Bernie is a twisted, quirky comedy; the true story of a beloved and cheerful small-town mortician who befriends the meanest (and wealthiest) widow in town and ultimately kills her. It stars Jack Black as Bernie, Shirley MacLaine as Marjorie Nugent, and Matthew McConaughey as District Attorney Danny Buck Davidson.

The following is an edited transcript of the discussion in which 10 journalists were invited to ask questions.

QUESTION (to MM): In this film and in some of your best work you play a lawyer. I’m trying to think of all the films where you played a lawyer…

MM: What have we got here… A Time to Kill, Amistad, Lincoln Lawyer and this … yeah.

QUESTION: And you wanted to be a lawyer originally, you were pre-law?

MM: I did. That’s where I was headin’. Then I luckily ran into a friend of ours, Don Phillips, in a bar and he introduced me to this guy (motions to Linklater). And yeah, this is much more fun.

QUESTION: How does Bernie fit into your “J.K. Livin” philosophy?
(“Just keep livin” is a quote from Dazed and Confused that McConaughey has adopted as his personal philosophy and it is the name of his production company.)

MM: Well one, Rick’s the director, the only director I work with that can go “Hey, I think I’ve got something for ya. Let’s get together and talk about it.” The process of getting to the day of shooting is really fun for Rick and I. There’s nothing formal about it all. We really play. It doesn’t take us that long.

RL: Yeah, the process for this one was just a couple days.

MM: And it’s just he and I, one on one. And I always look forward to that. And so, that’s a part of JK Livin philosophy right there, the fact that he’s a good friend and I like to work with him. The work is so much better when you have fun and I always have fun working with him.

QUESTION (to RL): In this film, there’s the opportunity to do some one-on-one research for the multiple roles. Did you seek out the real-life people?

RL: I started with Bernie and then talked to Scrappy (the defense attorney) as well. Jack wanted to meet Bernie so we facilitated that. I went to the trial about 15 years ago. I was into it back then. I wanted to see him testify. So yeah, it’s tricky when you do something that’s based on real events, real people. You know, I was concerned about the families and you try to be as accurate as you possibly can.

QUESTION (to RL): Why did you use the sort-of documentary style of the town characters?

RL: You’re talking about all the gossips? The townspeople? I just thought having grown up in a small town… and I hadn’t really seen that before. If you think about it that’s how I received the story. Mrs. Nugent is gone. Bernie’s in prison. So you have no access to the players, right? So what are you? In a way you’re whatever people say about you. So we hear the gossip from a lot of different angles. I was reading a stack of Skip’s journalistic notes (Skip Hollandsworth wrote an article about the trial for Texas Monthly, and he co-wrote the screenplay), that’s when it hit me. Like… gossips… yeah. It’s all the same event from different experiences. That’s when I got the idea in my mind that gossips would tell the story. You know, I went to that trial and saw it. They were excited. Gossip is fun, especially in a small town. It’s human, but it’s especially strong in a small town.

QUESTION (to MM):  Matthew, how did he describe the story? On paper it could seem really, really dark, and your kind of humor is a bit more whimsical, I suppose. So when he described the story to you, how did he play it?

MM: I was pretty much onboard when I read it. I thought it was the funniest thing he’d done on paper. I thought it was very, very funny. There’s an innocence about Rick, he has a bit of charm that he gives. There’s something about him, either your charm or you give that kind of charm… (to RL) You’re charming. (laughs) It’s just moving. There was something innocent about it that attracted me in that way. I never read this and thought, no it’s too dark. When I read it, I felt on pace with the tone. I thought it was much more funny than dark.

RL: I don’t really think it’s dark. I mean, it’s described as a dark comedy only because there’s murder in it, the darkest subject you can think of. But Bernie’s life I don’t… it only had a few seconds of darkness.

QUESTION: How much did you exaggerate the characters for comic effect?

RL: Danny Buck’s gonna be at the screening tonight so you can see for yourself.

(laughter)

QUESTION: What about Bernie?

RL: Jack so nails Bernie. He got his walk exactly. He was working on the accent thing because we had some recordings of Bernie that he was going on, like one at a church service. But then when he finally met Bernie and got to hang out with him, that was it.

QUESTION: Was the Shirley MacLaine character really that bad in real life?

RL: Oh, yeah. Shirley was talking to Ms. Nugent (motions to the sky, Ms. Nugent is the murder victim), so she had that connection.

(laughter)

QUESTION: I totally understood everything the characters were saying, but sometimes you’ll see a British film, like a Ken Loach film, where they have subtitles. I wonder if this film needs subtitles for the east and west coast.

RL: I wonder if you have to. I had a friend from New York who saw it at a press screening. He called me up and said, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I felt like I was watching a film from another country.” (laughs) Well, it kinda is. Even in Texas, it’s like another country, isn’t it?

QUESTION: The scene where you break down the different areas of the state, that was funny…

RL: I always wanted to do that in a movie because if you live here and you have friends not from Texas it’s hard to describe. It’s impossible. They’re like, “Oh, did you grow up like in a John Wayne movie?” And it’s like I grew up in an area that’s all woods. There’s trees in Texas. (laughs) Yeah, there’s all these different sections and I’ve been kinda wanting to break that down. I remember seeing a postcard when I was a kid about how Texans see the country, do you remember that? It’s like Texas goes all the way to Canada… (laughs), so we worked on that graphic.

QUESTION (to MM): We’re writing an article about your mother, we’re interviewing her today, so I wanted to get your side of the story…

(Up until now, the interview had been fairly subdued, but McConaughey lit up when asked about his mom, affectionately known as K-Mac, and renowned for being a fun and fearless broad.)

MM: You’re gonna need to get some stuff from me because my mom is not gonna say enough for you to write. (He grins broadly). She’s such a lady of few words. (laughs)

QUESTION: We wanted to ask you what it was like to work with your mom.

MM: This is the guy to ask (points to RL) ‘cuz he’s done this in Newton Boys. He hired my oldest brother, Rooster, and put us in a scene together. (laughs) So she tells me they met … or auditioned for it?

RL: She auditioned for it.

MM: And she goes, “Rick says I’m just right for it.” So a couple weeks go by and I go, “So did he say you got the part?” And she says, “Well, I mean, Rick said I’m right for it.” And I go, “No, no, no, a director can say anything like that. Did he say you got the part?” And she goes, “No.” (mimics her heavy sigh, laughs) So I said, “You might be gettin’ a call-back. You better get after it some more” So I get her pumped up. I’m serious! I jacked with her. So she starts… I work with her one night on those lines, and she’s walking around for weeks sayin’ like, “Well, mAY-be…” (strong accent, laughs). So I’m workin’ with her and stuff and tellin’ her don’t worry about her lines, just relax, and be yourself. That’s probably what Rick would like the most. I don’t remember how it exactly went down but she finally got the formal “yes,” and then everything notched-up. (laughs) Then she’s in the movie. That’s great. But then there’s a scene where I’m in a café and old sneaky cat here (motions to RL) … who’s sittin’ next to me: He puts my mom in the scene.

RL: It was in the script!

MM: But there are all kinds of townies!

RL: But did it say their names for all of ‘em?

(The two argue playfully and talk over one another.)

MM: Okay, I had no idea. So, my brother and I are in one film together and now he’s got Mom and I. I don’t think he’s likely to get my middle brother. Yeah, so that was…

RL: She’s been trying to get in every one of your films. (laughs) She wanted to re-do The Graduate early on.

MM: I would be Benjamin and she would play…

QUESTION: Mrs. Robinson? Oh, that’s twisted!

(raucous laughter)

MM: She said that would be a (uses quote fingers) “money maker!”

(laughter)

RL: She said to me, “At least someone appreciates me.”

(laughter)

MM: So tonight I’ll be there, ya know, having a great time.

QUESTION: What did she think of you in Killer Joe?
(Killer Joe is an ultra-violent film that also screened at SXSW)

MM: She liked it. She’s like, “You bad.” (points finger) “You baaad.”

QUESTION (to RL): Have you screened Bernie in Carthage yet?

RL: No, not yet. We’re hoping to get a screening in the prison for Bernie.

QUESTION: Jack could do like Johnny Cash, a sort of Live at Folsom Prison…

MM: Jack’s great in this, isn’t he?

(universal approval)

QUESTION (to RL): I know that Some Came Running is one of your favorite films and you’re finally getting to work with Shirley MacLaine. Did you bounce some thoughts off of her from that film?

RL: No. You know when you’re working with someone with that kind of career, I never ask those questions. But she would offer things and she’s got her stories and experiences.

QUESTION (to RL): Did she really meditate Mrs. Nugent?

RL: She said she did. She felt a little jealous because Jack had access to Bernie and she couldn’t, but then she could…

(laughter)

At this point the fellas were whisked away for more interviews elsewhere. The film screened at the Paramount Theater later that night, Wednesday March 14.

Click here to read my review of Bernie.

I hated the TV show “21 Jump Street.” It’s not even worth discussing why. It just sucked in so many ways. I became a Johnny Depp fan pretty much the second he gave them all the finger and went off to make weird movies. I groaned when I saw the trailer for the big screen remake and I went to the premiere at SXSW under duress. And then a funny happened:  God help me, I liked this movie.

Let’s add to my reasons for trepidation the fact that I’ve been slow to appreciate the charms of Channing Tatum. Or to put it another way: until now, I could barely stand the sight of the guy, let alone entire movies that showcase his sub-par acting and hunkdom routine. That’s a little harsh, and I know that now because I’ve seen 21 Jump Street in which he displays stellar comic timing and only uses his good looks as the butt of jokes (not unlike Mr. Depp some moons ago.) Jonah Hill is consistently hilarious in the film, and let’s face it, Jonah Hill is consistently hilarious in everything. He can deadpan like no other and has a special gift for wringing belly-laughs out of awkward situations.

In addition to (surprisingly) excellent casting, the writers, Michael Bacall (Project X, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World) and Jonah Hill (with a story credit) have a lot of fun turning the typical high school stereotypes on their heads. Schmidt (Hill) was uncool in school but a good student. Jenko (Tatum) was popular but not too bright. When they’re given the undercover assignment as high school narcs, now in their mid-20s, their phony names and personas get mixed up. Suddenly Schmidt is the cool kid and Jenko is the science geek. At first they have a hard time fitting in to their new cliques but gradually they acclimate, and this both strains their partnership and gives them a better understanding of one another. It also makes for some good comedy.

Another thing the film gets right is its self-awareness that the world really doesn’t need another retread, so it laughs at itself early to let you know they are in on the gag. When Deputy Chief Hardy (Nick Offerman) explains their new assignment, it goes like this: “We’re reviving a cancelled undercover police program from the 80s and revamping it for modern times. You see the guys in charge of this stuff lack creativity and are completely out of ideas. So all they do now is recycle shit from the past and expect us all not to notice.” Fortunately, from there onward the film picks up steam and surprises on almost every level.

Unlike the Reagan-era TV show that made me want to puke, this movie is ambiguous at best in terms of whose side of the “war on drugs” it wants to be on. It’s a party movie with lots of drug humor, but then the inevitable big bust at the end is supposed to feel like an accomplishment – not because we’ve been made to care about getting drugs off the streets – but because our lovable loser bro-duo achieved something. In truth, this movie made me wish the fictional synthetic drug in question was actually real, and that I could have some. Like now-ish. The drug affects users in several phases that are explained to us in title cards. Phase One is “The Giggs” (giggles), somewhere in the middle is “Over-Falsity of Confidence,” I won’t spoil the others for you because they’re hilarious, but it ends with “Asleepyness.”

Yeah, it’s funny.

In fact, the entire film is funnier than it has a right to be.

Naturally, some gags work better than others and they take it a step too far at the end with a bit that is more gross and stupid than anything. But more often than not, directors Phil Lord and Chris Miller hit  the right tone and deliver the yuk-yuks.

This film is NOT for kids. If you were a fan of the TV show (bless your heart) and you think it’ll be cute to take your kid to this movie, think again. The R rating is for real. Heed it.

And now I can’t believe I’m about to type the following but here goes…

4 of 5 stars

P.S. The Johnny Depp/Peter DeLuise cameo is worth the price of admission alone.

“Bernie” is based on a crime story that proves the adage “truth is stranger than fiction.”

There is so much about the film (and Bernie) that is odd, and often endearingly so. The story is structured around interviews of quirky and colorful local residents who are eager to share their thoughts about the crime. These are interspersed with re-enactments of the events as they unfolded in 1998. It’s at once funny and chilling that most everyone in town sides with Bernie even though he confessed to shooting an elderly woman four times in the back.

The offbeat tone of the film is established in the opening sequence in which a competent and cheerful Bernie demonstrates to a class of future-morticians how to make corpses look good. (You’d be surprised how much super glue comes in to play.) The pride he takes in his work, his respect for the deceased and their families, the sing-song delivery of well-chosen words, and his stereotypically homosexual mannerisms establish a character that’s both funny and intriguing. He has got to be the happiest mortician on the planet.

When we next see Bernie he’s on his way to Carthage for a new job, singing a peppy spiritual with comic gusto and abandon.  Right away, one wonders if anyone can truly be this upbeat. Is he up to something? Is this guy for real? Jack Black plays the character utterly devoid of guile, let alone malice. So when he settles in Carthage, becomes the most popular man in town, and then endeavors to befriend the recently widowed and infamously wretched Marjorie Nugent (Shirley MacLaine), it’s not hard to believe that he’s simply doing it out of kindness. Only one man, the local D.A., thinks Bernie connived his way into Mrs. Nugent’s life in order to get his hands on her fortune.

Bernie and Marjorie develop an unhealthy co-dependency that takes some surprising turns and brings up some needling questions. Who’s using who? And how calculating are either one of these characters? The film doesn’t really take a stand on this. It lets the locals say their piece, but ultimately it simply presents the facts without judgment or manipulation. They were friends, they travelled together, got spa treatments together, he made it into her will, and somewhere along the line Bernie went from being her constant companion to something of an indentured slave. Then one day he shot her.

Enter District Attorney Danny Buck Davidson (Matthew McConaughey), defense attorney Scrappy Holmes (Yes, these are their real names!) and a juicy trial that brought the media circus to small town Texas.

Most performances in the film are splendid, particularly the quirky “locals” who provide an often hilarious running commentary chock full of colloquialisms that ring surprisingly true (McConaughey’s mom, Kay McConaughey, among them.) Director Richard Linklater is from Austin, of course, but by way of east Texas originally. He knows these people and captures them well. Lest non-Texans think these are exaggerations, I can attest that I’d be rich if I had a dime for every time I’ve heard the expression “I guaran-damn-tee ya.” Yes, people really talk like that.

Jack Black’s earnest and sincere portrayal of Bernie is highlighted by his lovely singing voice. He has the opportunity to show off his pipes here and there’s no denying his musical talent when he’s not goofing around. He even does a bit of song-and-dance that impresses and makes one wonder what he could do with a shot on Broadway. Shirley MacLaine plays her familiar grumpy gussie without much subtext or humanity.

McConaughey shines as the D.A. who can’t believe his eyes and ears when an entire community (including the pastor) sides with the murderer. D. A. Davidson is a bit of an a-hole who mentions “closet homosexuals” more than necessary and asks Bernie on the witness stand if he knows what wine goes with fish… as if that’s somehow a damning factor in the trial. Though the D.A. may be a publicity-whoring jerk, he also happens to be right on at least one score: murder is murder, whether the victim was a total bitch or not.

The film’s only weakness is that it doesn’t seem to be quite sure what it wants to say about these proceedings. There isn’t much of a take-away when all is said and done, except that a good time was had at the movies.

It’s unclear how this will play outside of Texas, and it’s a hard film to categorize in general. It’s not exactly a dark comedy – it’s pretty darn perky. But there is the problem of a dead old bitch in a freezer. If offbeat is your cup of tea, I guaran-damn-tee you’ll like this one.

4 of 5 stars

SXSW screening of Bernie is Wednesday 3/14 at the Paramount Theater.

Of course, their married friends see the flaw in this plan right from the get-go. The problem is, so will the audience. It doesn’t take a genius to know that the intimacy of child-rearing will strain and confuse their friendship, and that parenting is going to require more of them than part-time commitment.

Much effort is made to ensure that the march to the foregone conclusion is peppered with “shocking” risqué humor, presumably meant to set it apart from less challenging mainstream rom-coms, but the result is a film that’s more repellent than riotous.

It’s hard to know what to make of star/writer/director Jennifer Westfeldt. On the one hand, donning all those hats at once is something very few women do in Hollywood at the moment, so it seems a “you go, girl” might be in order. On the other hand, the film is so chock-full of puerile, demeaning quips that her character (and by extension, I suppose Westfeldt herself) seems to play as if women are supposed to go along with them in order to be good sports. Nobody wants to be a strident bore, but it’s hard to feel warm and fuzzy about a guy who reminds his gal-pal bff that having a baby will make her pussy so loose that men might not enjoy screwing her.

Are you turned off yet? Because I sure as hell am.

Those are the kinds of things these two obsess over. They never actually talk about parenting, school, discipline, or any other issue that two people might discuss while bringing a new human being into the world. Instead, while preparing for a date a few weeks after giving birth, Julie drops her robe and asks her best-pal/baby-daddy if he thinks her body is ready for her to be naked in front of someone yet. They aren’t exactly deep philosophical types, these two.

With Mike Nichols (Carnal Knowledge, Closer) producing, and the Manhattan backdrop reminding one of Woody Allen, it seems natural to hope and assume that there will be some level of sophistication and insight thrown into these proceedings. Unfortunately, no.

The glib self-absorption of the two leads makes them very difficult to relate to or even like. I found myself wishing this story revolved around one of the other two couples, or both of them. The film works when Kristen Wiig and Maya Rudolph are onscreen. Their characters’ lives seem fuller and more genuine, though they have only a fraction of the film’s screen time to shine. There is a sense that the risks Ms. Westfeldt takes in the writing might have been better served by a more gifted actress in the lead role, someone deft enough to deliver subtext and dimension.

Along the way, Jason hooks up with a Broadway star played by Megan Fox, and Julie hooks up with a single dad played by Edward Burns. Jealousies ensue, and you can guess the rest.

By the time the two leads learn what everybody else already knows, the Apatow-esque crudities (sans any real laughs) have certainly worn out their welcome but they aren’t done yet. In a scene that’s meant to be wrought with emotional catharsis, the final lines of this film are so tone-deaf and off-putting that any points they might’ve won for audacity are lost completely. One is merely grateful to no longer have to spend more time with these two.

Don’t be fooled by the ad campaign. Though this film is fortunate to share much of the same cast as “Bridesmaids,” it’s nothing like that raucous, feel-good hit.

2 of 5 stars

There are moments of romance, levity, heartbreak, outright anguish and pain, and sheer beauty.

Between each dance piece, a member of the troupe tells a brief story about Pina. None of these stories are about her personal life – only about working with her. The film aims strictly to offer a tribute to this woman’s amazing work and work ethic. We’re given the impression of someone driven to create, bound only by her seemingly limitless imagination. She was a woman of few words, who made it count when she offered brief directions to her dancers.  Everyone involved clearly has enormous respect and love for Pina and her work, and that shows in each frame of the film.

The choice to use 3D here is inspired. It’s as if we’re in a live auditorium, watching the dancers move about on a real stage. In as much as it’s possible, we get the sense of live dance performances while sitting in an ordinary movie theater.

This is a must-see for fans of dance, art, and theater.

4.5 of 5 stars

One night there is a terrible car crash and Paige obtains a serious head injury that results in memory loss of the past five years. She wakes up thinking she’s the woman she was five years ago, a woman who lived a very, very different life.

The old Paige was very close to her uber-rich family (who she hasn’t spoken to in years), dressed like a total yupster, hung out with sorority pals, and went to law school per her father’s wishes. Oh, and she was engaged to a man (Scott Speedman) who fits neatly into this scene of Gucci and Chanel and all things “upscale.” It’s a completely different world from her bohemian artist’s life she’s living these days downtown.

So two storylines emerge: 1) the mystery of how uptight yuppie Paige became the free-spirited artist Paige of today, and 2) will she fall in love with her husband again and embrace her current life? Or will she go back to the life she remembers?

Another question emerges that the filmmakers likely did not intend: How does an art student and a struggling recording studio owner afford their fabulous loft downtown AND their two different studio spaces, especially if she’s no longer taking the family money? Ah, movie logic. Best not to question these things.

Anyway, what unfolds is a period of time in which Paige has to discover her own identity again. That includes deciding which career path to resume: artist or lawyer. Deciding which man to love: handsome rich guy or handsome struggling guy who always says the right things and has a wonderful sense of humor and adores her. Deciding whether to remain in the bosom of her family or go it alone again … like she did five years ago for mysterious reasons.

When the mystery of Paige’s departure from richy-rich suburban life is finally revealed, it doesn’t quite hash out. It may explain a rift with her family, but it doesn’t begin to explain why a girl who once donned Chanel now wears FreePeople and has a tattoo. The big emotional “reveal” packs a genuine wallop, thanks largely to a fine performance by Jessica Lange as Paige’s mother, but it doesn’t lend the character’s arc much logic at all.

In fact, almost instantaneously after this revelation comes to light, Paige returns to her art which she hasn’t touched since she woke up from the accident. The correlation between learning that your parents are flawed people and instantly having completely different taste in clothes, food, music and lifestyle (and a different personality!) is tenuous at best. One begins to get the icky feeling that this has all just been one long contrivance to set up a juxtaposition between her two worlds, past and present.

It makes for some humorous moments and creates stark choices that must be made. But it doesn’t feel real. It feels like another one of those things we’re supposed to skip over – like how they afford their lofts and multiple studios spaces downtown. Just don’t think about it, and it all seems pleasant enough.

In fairness, “The Vow” is nicely-made on many levels. The actors are all doing their bit wonderfully well. Rachel McAdams is charming, and knows just when and how to flash that thousand-watt smile. Channing Tatum plays the world’s most perfect husband as convincingly as possible. And the supporting players are solid. Jessica Lange is the stand-out here in one scene that makes the entire movie worthwhile.

Fans of romantic dramas such as “The Notebook” will love this movie. For those folks, I heartily recommend it. For everyone else… not so much.

3 of 5 stars

The film stars two of the most likeable actors on earth: John Krasinski and Drew Barrymore. Krasinski plays the local journalist who breaks the story. The role essentially requires him to be gosh-darn charming and that he is. Barrymore fares less well, playing a Greenpeace activist who is dedicated and single-minded enough to not really care whether anyone likes her. Unfortunately, Barrymore feels to be trying a bit too hard here. The line between an overly strident character and an overly strident performance is a tough one to walk.

Still, the pairing of Krasinski and Barrymore hits the right tone for a film that’s got a big heart and is intended for a family audience.

Part of what made this story so fascinating was the disparate people who came together to free the whales: politicians (conservatives, no less!), Greenpeace, big oil, the National Guard, indigenous tribes. It took a village, so to speak, to do the near-impossible. The lesson being that people of different stripes CAN work together when they put their minds to it, and miracles can happen when they do. The script is smart enough to acknowledge that some of these parties had ulterior motives for their involvement (namely good p.r.), but suggests that they came around and wound up emotionally involved in the struggle.

Some fun is had with characters like J.W. McGraw (played by Ted Danson), a big oil tycoon who at first seems to exist in the story to be the brunt of stereotyping humor. But when he goes to meet the whales and gets a big spray in the face, he laughs good-naturedly and develops an immediate fondness for the enormous creatures. The joke’s not “on him” if he laughs, too. And this kind of humanistic approach to the characters is what gives the film it’s “message”. For example, The “Greenpeace lady” and the local whale hunters must surely be at odds with one another, but come to a respect and understanding that allows them to work together.

This is the “lesson” of the film, and yes, it’s that kind of movie.

As far as lessons go, I’ll confess to being down with this one. Compromise and understanding is a lost art in our current culture, and anything that encourages children and adults alike to ponder the value of these things is okay by me.

There’s really only one problem with “Big Miracle” and it’s big all right.

The effects are terrible. I mean… really, really bad.

Local community theater could create a more convincing frozen tundra. In 50 below zero temps, nary a single actor has a red, runny nose, or visible breath. The whales look plastic. The painted sky in the background of some scenes is so obvious that one literally senses the actors are standing around in a cozy studio somewhere.

It’s a great story, truly. If you have kids, take’em.
If you don’t, perhaps you’ll enjoy the book more: “Freeing the Whales” by Thomas Rose.

3.5 of 5 stars

Daniel Radcliffe plays Arthur Kipps, a widower whose wife died while giving birth to their adorable son. He’s given the impossible task of settling the affairs at Eel Marsh, an aptly named spooky manor that is inexplicably located so far into the marshes that it’s only available by horse or motor carriage when the tide goes out. When the tide is in, the only road to the home is underwater, which of course leaves any inhabitants stranded until the tide goes out again. While the lonely mansion afloat in the marsh makes for an effective and creepy visual and serves a contrivance in the plot (one can’t merely decide to leave when the going gets spooky), it defies logic. Who would build a home that far beyond the tide? Who would live there? And how could the home ever be sold (even if it wasn’t ghost-ridden?)

Needless to say, this isn’t a job anyone would want, but Kipps is given little choice and his son depends on him.

When he arrives in town, the requisite mysterious and unfriendly reception he receives by the locals lets us know that something isn’t quite right at ol’ Eel Marsh. But determined he is, and off he goes.

The charm of the film is its old-fashioned approach to gothic horror. Kipps’ experiences in the manor remind one of an amusement park spook-house, with creaks and bumps beckoning him to investigate by candlelight so we can be subjected to those “gotcha” moments when something appears just behind the protagonist in the dark, or a mechanical doll suddenly goes to clanging and banging on its own, etc.

But these jolts lose their punch as they begin to come one after another for a stretch of the film that feels overly long, and the pacing begins to lag. Another problem is that there seems to be a “kitchen-sink” approach as far as tried-and-true methods of delivering chills: an isolated manor, creepy kids, creepy dolls (lots and lots of them!), rocking chairs that move on their own, a face in the upstairs window. You name it, they’ve used the lot.

The mystery that unfolds is a solid enough ghost story, as these things go, and it has the added benefit of tying thematically with the protagonist’s personal journey. It’s this aspect of the film that gives the ending a surprising punch of emotional resonance.

A cast of seasoned character actors (Janet McTeer, Ciaran Hinds) make a strong impression, but it’s really Radcliffe’s vehicle and he handles it very well. In fact, it’s fair to say his performance gives the film much more weight than it probably deserves. He’s a good actor, playing a role a bit beyond his age, and making it work. Here’s hoping he continues to choose well, and enjoys a long career beyond the Potter series.

In all, “The Woman in Black” is a solid rendering of a lot of things we’ve seen before with strong performances to make it worth your while. If you’re in the mood for a spooky house movie, this is just the ticket.

3.5 of 5 stars

Meet George Valentin. He loves himself, and why shouldn’t he? He’s a huge star, he has a loyal dog who is his constant companion in life and onscreen, audiences adore him and his existence is almost perfect except for his sour-puss wife. Jean Dujardin’s portrayal of Valentin is simply splendid. His remarkably expressive, handsome face calls to mind Gene Kelly in “Singing in the Rain.” That smile could light up the world! And like Kelly, he tempers the character’s ego with an easy charm and gentle wit that makes it impossible to hold his conceit against him.

A cute mishap on the red carpet serendipitously thrusts the unknown Peppy Miller (Berenice Bejo) into the spotlight alongside Valentin and a star is born. Bejo’s delightful every-girl quality is infused with infectious joy and energy that befits the old-fashioned stage name to perfection.

Problem is, while Peppy’s on the way up, Valentin is on the way down. Silent films are falling out of vogue and talkies are the rage. Peppy is the new poster girl of the now and the wow.  Valentin is a dinosaur. As his life disintegrates into ruins, he’s forced to watch from afar as Peppy’s star rises. What he doesn’t know is that she hasn’t forgotten him, and it is this aspect of the story that gives the film its heart.

Peppy keeps tabs on Valentin. One can attribute her motivation to several factors: 1) She is loyal to the fact that he discovered her, 2) She realizes that her own fame won’t last forever and one day she’ll be in his shoes, and 3) She’s been in love with him ever since they first bumped into each other in front of the flashbulbs.

Peppy becomes a sort of secret guardian angel for Valentin as the life he once knew slips further and further away. Through her, and with some help from his loyal canine companion, Valentin must find salvation. The storyline tips its hat to both “A Star is Born” and “Singing in the Rain.” It’s sweetly and unashamedly old-fashioned; an exercise in anti-cynicism that will open your heart wide if you let it.

“The Artist” gets everything just right on a technical level, thanks to director Michel Hazanavicius and his entire team. The recreation of film style from that era is phenomenal down to every detail including the saturation in the black and white, the framing and blocking of scenes, the Art Deco environs, and of course the charming fashions. But this film is more than a technical triumph, and more than homage. It’s a rousing escape to another time and place that leaves your heart lighter than when you came in.

Quite simply, it’s the feel-good movie of the year.

5 of 5 stars

John LeCarre’s classic spy novel has a loyal fan base that will likely be pleased with the film. It doesn’t have the time to explore the complexity of the relationships of the four spies in the same way the British mini-series was able to, but it captures the deeply layered essence of the book as well as can be expected in its 2 hour running time.

“There is a mole.” The words are spoken ominously by John Hurt who plays the character simply named “Control” with the sort of world-weariness one might expect from the head of British intelligence. It’s the 70s. The Cold War is raging. And it seems that someone in the higher echelons of her Majesty’s government is working for the other side. George Smiley is tasked with investigating this convoluted web of double agents and deceit.

It’s a challenging film, to be sure, in that it asks the audience to absorb a great deal of information early in the story that is laid out in very subtle ways. The uninitiated are likely to feel at sea for too much of the film, and this creates an emotional distance that is difficult to overcome. The deliberate pacing is likely to alienate some as well. One learns a lot about spycraft from “Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy” and part of the lesson is patience.

That said, for those who are willing to take the time with the film in the same way that you might curl up with a good book, get cozy, and lend your mind fully to detail, the rewards are rich indeed. For example, when Smiley finds a set of chess pieces fitted with the faces of possible mole suspects – his own face among them – the scene is not filled with expository emoting about betrayal, trust, fear, a lifetime of possibly misplaced loyalty. Instead, director Tomas Alfredson (“Let the Right One In”) opts for a simple close-up on the character as this stream of thought must surely be flooding through his mind.

In other words, the style of the piece asks something of the audience beyond passive viewing. If you look closely, each glance has a world of meaning behind it, and every exchange is rich with subtext. If you look closely.

The cast is a veritable who’s who of the best character actors working today (too many to list) with Colin Firth among them as the bona fide movie star in the bunch. He holds his own amongst these heavyweights of “actors’ actors” and then some.

But in truth, I suspect “Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy” will appeal to those with rarified tastes only. Others are likely to find it an impenetrable labyrinth of spy genre fetishism. If that doesn’t sound like a fun challenge to you, then this probably isn’t the best choice for your multiplex outing.

Still, what a joy to see Oldman at his best.

4 of 5 stars

The film opens promisingly enough. We watch what appears to be police footage of a crime scene in which several people were brutally murdered during an exorcism. The woman is tried, found insane, hospitalized, and then moved to a hospital in Rome. Yeah… that last bit sounded unlikely to me, too. This was the first red flag. See, I’m just not sure the government of either country would agree to such a thing or that it’s even legal, but okay… moving on.

Her now-grown adult daughter (who’s just as doggone cute as a button) wants to go to Rome to find out more about her mother, and of course decides to take along a cameraman with her to document this event. The fact that her mother is a drooling, incoherent, violent lunatic doesn’t seem to stop the hospital staff from leaving this girl alone in a room with her. More red flags, but okay. Some creepy footage is shot of devil-mom and voila! – they’ve got their trailer and poster! Mission accomplished.

Oh wait, now there has to be an actual movie in order to sell tickets. Okay, fine. What ensues is a lot of arguing amongst the exorcist priests, the daughter, the documentarian, and four – yes, four different scenes of exorcisms. That could have been cool, I guess. Gotta figure if they’re gonna do it four times we might be in store for something we haven’t seen in an exorcism movie before. If you thought that, you’d be wrong. Oh wait, we got to see some menstrual blood. That’s new, I think. So, where were we… Oh yeah, we also get a lot of dialogue like, “The electricity’s gone out! Bring the camera for light!” to excuse the fact that people are dragging a camera around when they should be running for their lives.

Then this thing called “transference” begins to happen. The demon jumps form devil-mom to other people. Scary, right? Well, no, not really, because one immediately wonders why the demon stayed inside of this locked-up woman for 15 years if they have the capacity to hop around so much. Why didn’t they inhabit a doctor who could REALLY do some damage out in the world? Oh, silly me, using logic.

So a bunch of this transference stuff happens and it’s not hard to guess that eventually all of the lead characters will succumb to demon possession at some point. As the logic-defying moments start adding up at a rapid-fire pace, they throw in one to take the cake. A demon-possessed person murders a nurse in the E.R., the hospital staff runs to care for the nurse, leaving the demon-possessed person writhing on the floor in the hallway alone so the priest and documentarian can scoop her up and put her in a car… because that’s just what hospital staff would do, right? Leave the person who committed the crime alone and writhing on the floor in the main hallway without calling security or even bothering to tend to her as a patient.

Just so very bad.

By the time the “climax” happens, the laughs are coming one after the next. You know that thing where demons who possess humans always like to throw people’s weaknesses and secrets up in their face? You know, that old thing. Well, it happens a lot here, like in the speeding car near the end of the film. The priest asks incredulously, “Who are you?” and the demon responds, “Everybody knows who I am.” Really? You’re THE DEVIL? And all you got is demon-possessing some nobody housewife and sitting in a hospital for 15 years then possessing her daughter and friends in this crappy car that’s going nowhere? Really, Satan? That’s the best you can do? Note to the next person who makes a movie about the devil: At least have the guy bring his A game.

I’m a huge fan of Roger Ebert who has always asserted that he “never reviews the audience,” meaning that as a film critic, it isn’t his job to tell readers how the audience reacted when he saw the film.  That’s a good policy in general and normally I would agree. But in this case, I can’t resist the urge to tell potential movie-goers that the preview audience snickered when the movie was supposed to be scary. By the end, I literally felt embarrassed for the filmmaker. But make no mistake, this isn’t that campy bad kind of movie like Troll 2 where watching it is amusing in unintended ways. You won’t feel amused. You’ll feel ripped off.

Which leads me to this last bit. There is a chance the filmmaker thought he was making a good movie. I don’t know. I’m not sure what’s worse: thinking this is good, or not even bothering to aim for good.  I honestly can’t tell which of those crimes he has committed here. What IS clear is that Paramount most certainly knew what they had on their hands. Seriously, the lead actress is so bad that she goes through the film in a kind of pleasant stupor with a blank look on her face even when the most horrific things are happening around her. The only time she really emotes is when she loses her keys. (I’m not kidding.) They knew. They HAD to know how bad it was. But you see, they didn’t care. They had 60 seconds of good trailer footage that would ensure them loads of cash.

Meanwhile, thousands of beautifully rendered films come and go from film festivals across the country but do not land distribution because they don’t fit so neatly into a target genre, or demographic, or they don’t lend themselves quite so easily to an attention-grabbing trailer. So much beauty, wonder, wit, and talent (or even scares) go unseen because the powers that be don’t think you or I are smart enough to appreciate them.

You see, folks, Paramount’s philosophy is one of two: 1) sure it’s bad, but we’ll dupe enough people with the trailer to make a bundle, or 2) audiences are so dumb they won’t even notice that we just fed them a steaming pile of shit.

I’m not sure which is more insulting.

I know one thing: Evil, thy name is greed.

0 stars

In this sequel (hopefully one of many), Robert Downey Jr. as Holmes again employs his method of madness to foil a plot by the nefarious Professor Moriarty, played with sinister calm and confidence by Jared Harris (son of Richard) who seems to delight in making pretty boy Holmes squirm. The word “plot” is used loosely here, as it’s really all just an excuse to watch thrilling action sequences, delight in  Downey’s wonderfully bizarre and daffy performance, and enjoy the… let’s call it camaraderie… between Downey and his leading man, Jude Law.

What was hinted at in the first installment is writ much more large in the sequel. Frankly, Holmes loves Watson so much that his jealousy of the fair fiancée cannot be contained. The Holmes/Watson repartee reflects not only a long-time collaboration of clever detecting, but a weary marriage of sorts between a couple who’ve grown accustomed to each other’s peccadilloes. The humor inherent in this situation is played to sublime perfection by these two larger-than-life movie stars who wink at the audience like the good-natured gents we hope they are.

Downey’s demented take on Holmes, the chemistry between our adventuring cohorts, the steampunk look and feel of the era, and a jaw-dropping action sequence in a forest are the film’s highlights. The thin plot is the dubious and forgettable string that ties these delights together. It’s better than the first, and tons of fun.

4 of 5 stars

Four tight-jawed parents are crammed awkwardly in a home office awaiting the final printing of a document they’ve agreed upon, which puts the responsibility of the incident squarely on the stick-bearing boy, and leaves the bully blameless. The elephant in the room being that this is the most expedient way to avoid a lawsuit.

The mother of said stick-bearer is played by Kate Winslet, who is ever so apologetic and says all the right things with such precision and care as to make it abundantly clear they were rehearsed, probably in the car on the way over with her spouse (Christoph Waltz), who has a harder time concealing his contempt for these proceedings. Jodie Foster plays the mother of the boy who was struck in the face, an unbearably strident woman who takes every opportunity to blow the incident out of proportion while her affable husband (John C. Reilly) goes out of his way to smooth things over with his aw-shucks good-natured demeanor.

What follows is an afternoon of tea and crumpets (so to speak) that devolves in ways I wouldn’t dare give away. Suffice to say the following: you’ve never seen Kate Winslet do THAT before.

“Carnage” is a “comedy of manners” in the truest sense, a theatrical genre defined as “a play which satirizes the affectations of a social class.”  And, man, does it ever. Taken from Yasmina Reza’s play “God of Carnage” which began in Zurich and then went on to take London and Broadway by storm, the film stays true to its theatrical roots giving us a claustrophobic afternoon with well-mannered jerks who only need a bit of needling and some booze to start letting the cracks show in their lovely facades.

The staginess of the premise probably feels just about perfect in a live rendering of the material (I have not seen the play) but on film, it creates a problem. As things devolve, however shocking and hilariously, one begins to wonder why the visiting couple doesn’t just leave. In fact, by the time Kate Winslet utters the words, “Why am I still here?” the audience has been wondering the same thing for a long time. Such contrivances can be forgiven in a staged play where there is a certain suspension-of-disbelief built in to the experience. But film is less forgiving. The result is that the very short running time of 79 minutes is nonetheless difficult to sustain.

One can see that Roman Polanski directed and co-wrote the film with this dilemma in mind.  Pains have been taken to address the issue with characters running out to the hallway and waiting for the elevator, only to be coaxed back in so they can smooth things over. But still, the confines of this premise don’t quite work on film and the story inevitably loses steam before the credits roll.

What’s worth watching here are the masterful performances by the stellar cast. Christoph Waltz steals the show with the best sardonic zingers this side of the Algonquin Round Table. Kate Winslet’s overly mannered performance is just right for a woman who is all about keeping up appearances (though her American accent is distractingly exaggerated.) John C. Reilly milks his laizzes faire persona enough to make it truly shocking when he finally lets his guard down and spews some of the most politically incorrect dialogue uttered on film in a while. Jodie Foster’s performance is the most perplexing and perhaps the most triumphant. Her character is unlikeable from the get-go, wound so tightly that she could snap at any moment (and does). In the early sequences, her jaw is so clenched that one wants to hit her in the face with a stick, too. Just watching her makes you tired, so in her case it’s a relief when she finally falls apart.

The writing here (apart from the aforementioned stuck-in-this-room-together dilemma) is phenomenal. Loyalties shift between the married couples, to a battle of the sexes, and back again. As the façade crumbles to dust, these upper East side know-it-all types devolve into behavior that would put the kids on the schoolyard to shame. This witty, insightful, and downright pitiless dark comedy is not for every taste, to be sure. The key word here is dark comedy.

The epilogue with the children on the playground provides a book-ended effect which seems needed in order to create some closure, leaving the film on an upbeat though incongruous note. Don’t head for the exits until you find out what happened to the hamster.

4 of 5 stars

“Hugo” is about an orphan boy (Asa Butterfield) who lives within the walls of a train station, winding the clocks so no one will notice that his alcoholic uncle caretaker is no longer around to do the job. His troubles include a nosy, orphan-hating station captain played with pitch-perfect wit by Sacha Baron Cohen, an angry toy shop clerk played with sad subtext by Ben Kingsley in what should be an Oscar nominated performance, a pretty girl with an affinity for literature played with plucky charm by Chloe Grace Moretz, and a mystery to solve which involves an automaton that Hugo and his father (Jude Law) were repairing before his dad’s untimely death. The mystery that unfolds leads the story into unexpected territory: the genius of a forgotten early cinema pioneer.

In this tale of artistry and craft, Scorsese uses 3D technology to highlight the themes of the film, rather than cheap gimmickry (as is so often the case with 3D.) The beginning sequence is so breathtaking that the audience literally gasped when the title “HUGO” finally appeared in large letters on the screen. One wonders, if that’s just the opening sequence, what can we be in store for next? A lot.

The beauty of the Paris train station circa 1930s and its quaint shops are captured with such grace and charm that one feels transported. The tracking shots inside the inner workings of the clock tower gears and the gritty walls where Hugo resides juxtapose a darker, less colorful world. The detail with which Scorsese handles scale is mind-boggling. For example, the angles of the Eiffel Tower are spatially accurate according to Hugo’s position in the tower and the city. The loving care given to every detail in the film is enough to bring tears alone. But it’s in Scorsese’s homage to the pioneers of cinema that the film really finds its heart. These sequences are shared with such childlike awe and whimsy, that only the coldest of hearts could remain unmoved.

Mr. Scorsese has some fun with the audience, too, by introducing classic scenes from early cinema and (lest we feel superior in our modern sophistication) recreating them within the story itself using current technology to illustrate how effective those scenes still are. We really aren’t all that different from audiences who were privileged to experience cinema in its infancy, and thanks to Mr. Scorsese, we are now able to experience some of that awe and wonder today, as if watching a movie for the first time.

I’m a purist. An avid 3D hater. And yet I beseech you to see this film in theaters in 3D. Do not wait for the DVD. It will not be the same film. This movie deserves to be seen as the artist(s) intended, in all its fanciful, ambitious glory.

“Hugo” is a spectacular masterpiece for all ages and forever.

5 of 5 stars

It was a smart move to turn himself over to Alexander Payne, a director known for stretching A-list actors (“Sideways,” “About Schmidt,” “Election”). Mr. Payne has a knack for stories which mine life’s awkward moments to find both the comedy and drama in them, and here he’s given us his most accessible film. The Hawaiian views are spectacular, the locale and culture are captured with detail and specificity, the family dynamics feel alive with depth and sincerity, and the emotional catharsis is powerful.

“The Descendants” deals with the inevitable death of a coma patient whose secrets are revealed before she breathes her last, leaving her confused and grieving soon-widower (Matt King, played by Clooney) with a mix of emotions in extreme degrees. She’s also about to leave behind two daughters, Alex (Shailene Woodley) and Scotty (Amara Miller), who are seriously lacking in parental supervision and respect for authority. There’s a mystery of sorts (which I won’t give away) that thrust father and eldest daughter on an adventure together. It is this relationship that flavors the film with delightful surprises.

This reviewer hopes that Mr. Clooney’s fine performance doesn’t completely over-shadow that of Ms. Woodley. She’s a fine young actress who delivers what should be a break-out performance. Other stand-outs include Judy Greer (as “Julie Speer” – coincidental name similarity or perhaps the role was written for her), Robert Forster as the crotchety father-in-law, and a newcomer named Nick Krause (from the Austin area) who plays the stoner boyfriend in a performance reminiscent of early Jack Black. Mr. Krause attended a Q&A after “The Descendants” screened at the Austin Film Festival. He was intelligent and articulate. Don’t let the performance fool you. That’s acting, folks.

There is a subplot involving the King family’s estate sale of pristine paradise land which dove-tails nicely with the main plotline and allows Beau Bridges to make an impression in only a couple of memorable scenes. The conclusion of this storyline is the only predictable element in the film, but it’s unlikely audiences will mind.  

“The Descendants” finds resonance in surprising moments and unexpected places, and this ultimately is its special charm. The final shot is at once simple, complex, and deeply moving – like the film itself.

5 of 5 stars

Sound like too much? No one would believe it.

But this film is not fiction. It is documentary. Lord Byron was right about truth being stranger than fiction. It’s also more fascinating.

To look at the world through Werner Herzog’s eyes is to view human nature with insatiable curiosity. Indeed, the auteur has set his particular genius upon this task more times than we can list here, but some highlights include “Grizzly Man,”, “Aguirre: The Wrath of God,” and “Stroszek.” With “Into the Abyss,” he has wrought something unique and penetrating, yet again.

The documentary explores the aftermath of a tragic and senseless crime that took place in Conroe, Texas in October 2001. Two teenagers murdered three people for the sole purpose of joyriding in a shiny red car. The stupidity and cruelty of this act is impossible to measure (hence: the abyss), but Herzog does a good job of trying by interviewing the family members of the victims, who are heartbreakingly sincere and generous in sharing their pain.

This crime and its aftermath, though, serve as the backdrop to a larger discussion about the death penalty. This is not an activist film. It does not seek to exonerate the perpetrators; they are clearly guilty and the film wastes no time arguing otherwise. Instead, the point here seems to be simply to look and listen and learn what we may about a culture that breeds Michael Perrys and Jason Burketts, then kills them in the bizarre ritual known as state executions.

Herzog interviews the perpetrators of the crime: Michael Perry who was to be executed eight days after the interview, and Jason Burkett who is serving a life sentence. Perry’s cocky, unremorseful demeanor is stomach-turning, and Burkett’s restrained, dull stare is a harder wall to penetrate. Both men blame the other. Neither garner sympathy. But it’s fascinating to watch the depths of their denial mechanisms at work.

The film opens with a humble chaplain, a strong and sensible man who speaks of his experiences in the Death House with tears in his eyes. It ends with the surprisingly poetic musings of a former Death House Captain, who has seen more death than anyone ever should, and is now more interested in doing a good job of “living his dash”. It’s interesting that Herzog bookended the film with employees of the state.

There are no lawyers, no experts, no statistics, no politics. It’s not about that. Instead, Herzog interests us in the emotional toll of violence on all involved.

The footage is incredible: from the unsettling police video taken at the home of murder victim Sandra Stotler while the blood was still fresh on the floor and cookie dough on tin sheets in the kitchen, to the shoot-out location with the car shot to smithereens with glass and blood all over the place, and an untold number of bullet holes in the walls of the abandoned building they fled through. Later, the film takes us into the Death House, where rows of Bibles are placed at neat intervals alongside boxes of Kleenex, presumably for loved ones of those to be executed. Composer Mark de Gli Antoni’s haunting score accents these eerie scenes beautifully.

But perhaps one of the film’s most intriguing ingredients is Herzog himself. He doesn’t interject himself into this film as he did with “Grizzly Man”, but his voice is heard off-screen asking the questions, at times focused and penetrating, at other times light-hearted and personable. In the midst of such heavy subject matter, he can send the interview off on tangents in frankly delightful ways: a witness with a large tattoo of his girlfriend’s name on his arm is asked “What happens if the relationship unravels?” And upon learning that Jason Burkett still had a piece of the car lodged in his side after the shootout, “How do you get through a metal detector?” The film is peppered with these brief moments that give us a glimpse of how Herzog’s curiosity is simply his way of life.

The most moving sequence of the film involves Delbert Burkett (father of Jason), who is incarcerated across the street from his son in the same prison for unrelated crimes. Mr. Burkett’s lament about his son’s upbringing is what got Jason a life sentence, whereas Michael Perry (whose family did not come to his defense), received the death sentence. Mr. Burkett is humble, full of regret, and seemingly the only criminal in the entire film who accepts full responsibility for his actions. He wants to go back in time and be a good father so that none of this would ever have happened. But he can’t. Trapped in prison, trapped in time, trapped in guilt.

Every wayward young man in the film winds up mentioning relatives in prison (usually their fathers) and it becomes clear that the cycle of violence is a family affair. The film is rich with such themes that appear serendipitously. Another is the belief in God and some master plan amidst all the senseless violence and chaos. Another is the beauty of nature and how it can wrest us from our selfish lives to notions of something more. And then there is denial… always denial.

Denial is such a running theme in the film that it becomes almost a lead character. Without fail, every person interviewed – from the Chaplain, to the perpetrators, to the victims’ families, to near-victims, to the Death House Captain – every person in the film speaks of it. “I can’t allow myself to think about that.” “I’ve blocked it out.” “I’m not able to face that.” These words are echoed time and again.

In a country where most people have strong feelings about the death penalty (either for or against), it’s likely that most of us haven’t looked at it all that closely. This film, in a sense, is the opposite of denial. It looks with an unwavering eye. If you’re going to say you’re for or against something, you ought to bloody well know what it is that you’re really for or against.

4.5 of 5 stars

The film begins quite slowly, unless you’re particularly interested in watching a very uptight young man work his way up in government. It doesn’t really have an emotional hook until the moment that Hoover (Leo DiCaprio) meets Clyde Tolson (Armie Hammer), which felt to be 30-40 minutes in. Finally, there is some emotional conflict that one can latch onto: It’s love at first sight, which would be complicated enough in those times, but it’s particularly untenable for Hoover. He is, after all, the face of law enforcement, a terrible prude, and an utterly judgmental jerk. Also, a homosexual, drug-addicted, cross-dresser. Go figure.

In fact, it is here that the central theme of the film begins to take hold: is it simple irony that a man with so many secrets spent his life digging into the personal lives of others? Is it irony that he chose to lord their secrets over them in the form of threats and blackmail (something that surely would have struck fear into his own heart had the tables been turned)? Or is there a more direct cause-and-effect between his shame and repression and this mode of gaining power? 

It’s hard to feel sympathy for such a fellow, and yet Eastwood and screenwriter Dustin Lance Black find a way to make us feel, if nothing else, pity for this “fussy little man” (as Lindbergh called him) who desperately needed respect and admiration – so much so that he concocted stories out of whole cloth to put himself in a heroic light.  

Judi Dench plays Hoover’s Mom with the kind of quiet control that gives one a chill, and provides more than a bit of sympathy for Hoover’s dilemma. She also loved her son (in her way) and he lived with her until she passed away at a very old age. By then, a warm and lifelong companionship had formed with Mr. Tolson. Hoover never married (not even for appearances sake) and made arrangements so that Tolson could always travel with him. In the end, Tolson was the sole beneficiary of his estate.

Armie Hammer’s performance should solidify him as a fine actor (after the strong impression he made as the Winklevoss twins in “The Social Network”), and Naomi Watts is solid as Hoover’s loyal secretary and the keeper of his (and others’) secrets.

What DiCaprio achieves here is quite impressive: he portrays Hoover from his idealistic youth to embittered old age with equal veracity.  He’s almost guaranteed an Oscar nom, and he deserves it.

The film, however, has its flaws. The beginning is slow, some of Hoover’s political machinations feel glossed over, there is some dodgy old-age makeup here and there, and the sheer volume of people whose private lives he invaded is barely even touched upon. But ultimately, the most frustrating thing about “J. Edgar” is that it asks us to feel sorry for a man who essentially shat upon the Constitution on a daily basis.

I suppose it’s inevitable that a Hollywood bio-pic about a major American historical figure should seek to depict him with some sympathy, and I will confess to being moved by nearly all of his scenes with Tolson. But it is a shame that those who do not know his true story will come away with only an inkling of his criminal deeds – committed while hiding behind a badge and a bureau that enabled his sickness to fester and grow.

True, a film can only show so much in its time constraints, but Hoover did more than just go after political adversaries. He had files on Marilyn Monroe, John Lennon, Elvis Presley… the list goes on and on. And why? Because he personally felt threatened by them in some way? Perhaps their sexual frankness or disturbing hair styles kept him up at night. Poor guy. But then he refused to go after the Mafia. Speculation abounds that they had the goods on him so he backed off. But it isn’t hard to see how completely arbitrary his approach to law enforcement was. Unfortunately, the film doesn’t touch upon that. It just hits the high notes – Roosevelt, Kennedy, Dr. King. 

J. Edgar Hoover did some very bad things. Wearing dresses and falling in love with a man do not qualify in this category. Ruining lives, forcing people to live in fear that their deepest secrets would be revealed, disregarding simple decency and common-sense notions about privacy, and violating any and every law he wished – those things are the bigger picture. He was a sick and sad little man, who hurt a lot of people and corrupted the very institution he founded.

And yet, there’s something so basically human about love and loyalty that lasts a lifetime, the fear of not living up to your parent’s dreams, and the realization that you’ve become everything you hate.

A sad little man, indeed.

3.5 of 5 stars, for Leo’s performance and the Cliffs’ notes history lesson.

Antonio Banderas plays Robert Ledgard, a well-meaning plastic surgeon, who becomes tortured and obsessed by tragedies that lead him on a path of medical experimentation. He creates a tough, human-animal hybrid skin that can withstand injury. Such a medical wonder needs a human guinea pig, and he just happens to have one: a beautiful woman being kept prisoner in his home (played by Elena Anaya). Who is the prisoner and what is her relationship to the doctor? I promise, you’ll be surprised.

“The Skin I Live In” takes more than one twist and turn and always keeps you guessing, intrigued, engrossed, and frankly, a bit queasy. In fact, the more that’s revealed about what’s really going on in the doctor’s sprawling home, the more creeped-out you get.

The entire cast performs admirably, particularly Marisa Parades as housekeeper, Marilia. She has plenty of her own secrets, and her misguided loyalty to the doctor makes her the Igor to his Dr. Frankenstein.

The unspeakable acts are happening on gloriously beautiful grounds. Vibrant colors and lush scenery abound. There is a universe within and a universe without; a beautiful exterior, and something else entirely going on inside, beneath the surface, behind closed doors. A good director and his crew know how to use surroundings as a metaphor for the story’s central theme.

Almodovar is at once a fan of old-fashioned filmmaking (those lost stares into the distance as the scene fades into flashback, the detailed extravagance of sets, knowing looks and mysterious glances), but he’s also an innovator, playing with timely ideas: Who are we inside of our skin? How much of our exterior defines us? How much of our exterior dictates how others relate to us? What are the limits of science, and to whom do we entrust them?

The look of the film, the thought-provoking themes, and the stomach-turning plot twists are worth the ticket price. Think “Frankenstein” with weird sexual twists and you’ll have some idea of what you’re in for.  If you love Almodovar, you’ll love this one. If you hate him, you’ll hate it. If this is your first Almodovar experience, you’ll come away knowing without a doubt which category is yours.

4 of 5 stars

“Like Crazy,” directed by Drake Doremus, captures something fleeting and indefinable with dream-like specificity. Every moment is like a cherished postcard. The point-of-view angles, the colors (whites and grays and pale blues like early morning), and the spontaneous performances of the two winsome leads (Felicity Jones and Anton Yelchin) capture intimacy in a way perhaps no other film has. We fall in love right along with Jacob and Anna. The film takes you to that place, not with cheesy rom-com cliché, overwrought plot machinations, or arty love scenes. Rather, we spend time with them and see in each character what the other sees – their beauty, humor, talent, quirks, flaws. It feels real and it creates a bond with the audience.

That’s what “Like Crazy” does right.

The story involves a young couple who meet in college, fall in love, but then are separated by circumstance, namely that she is in the U.S. on a student visa from England. In a moment of romantic idealism, she thwarts the law and does not go home when her visa expires. This violation later heaps complications on the young couple as she is deported and banned from returning. His successful furniture design company isn’t the sort of thing one can simply uproot elsewhere. She becomes a journalist in London. They are successful, but apart. The times they manage to spend together become fraught with insecurities and resentments.

I remained involved through much of this. It was when the pair each took lovers that my bond with them began to fray. Jacob takes up with his beautiful assistant Samantha (Jennifer Lawrence) and Anna takes up with her neighbor Simon (Charlie Bewley).

Samantha loves Jacob. She’s there for him. They have fun together, it seems. They sleep together. The sex seems good. She’s dedicated to his business and caring toward him in every conceivable way.

Same with Simon. He’s good to Anna. They get along, they have sex, they share things in common. He wants to marry her.

Sure, Jacob and Anna pine for one another from across an ocean. But they USE the people who are near them to numb the loneliness. These people are innocent in the train-wreck that is Jacob and Anna’s situation, but they most certainly are hurt by it – not once, but twice!

As the film wore on, I began to think and feel differently about the two leads. They are educated, have means, live in cool apartments, have creative jobs, have supportive, hip parents, and they both have someone who truly loves them right there, present and available.

Through the ever-increasing weepy piano music, I began to think: What I would give to have their problems.

There can be no doubt that there is true beauty in the performances, the cinematography, the general aesthetic of the film. And it captures the essence of falling in (and out of) love with a wisdom and complexity rarely seen on film. But as their story came to its bittersweet end, I too, had fallen out of love.

3.5 of 5 stars

Margo Martindale

You may not know her name but you most certainly know her face. Margo Martindale is perhaps the hardest working woman in show business. With a career spanning over 20 years in film, television and theater, she’s Hollywood’s go-to gal for memorable supporting roles. She’s been able to make her mark standing next to some of the brightest stars in Hollywood in such films as “The Hours,” “Million Dollar Baby” and “Secretariat.” She was nominated for a Tony in 2004 for her turn as Big Mama in “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof”, and she’s conquered television in “Dexter”, “Mercy”, and “Justified” for which she won an Emmy this year. The New York Times Magazine named her one of the “8 Actors Who Turn Television into Art.”

Ms. Martindale has now turned her talents to a low budget indie thriller called “Scalene,” playing the lead role of Janice Trimble, a mother who takes revenge when her mentally challenged son is accused of rape. The word ‘scalene’ refers to a triangle with three different angles, and such is the nature of this film; director Zack Parker and co-writer Brandon Owens have skillfully crafted an intricate look at three different perceptions of a singular event. The film is structured in reverse order, beginning with the climax and working its way back to a pivotal moment for Janice Trimble.

With a meager budget of only $150,000 (less than some blockbusters spend on craft services alone!), the film could easily have fallen into the pitfalls seen so frequently in low budget thrillers, but that’s not the case. Concerns about quality dissipate quickly as the story sucks you in. By the end, one is astounded at what has been achieved with such limited resources.

“Scalene” co-stars Adam Scarimbolo (“A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints”) as Janice’s handicapped son Jakob, and Hanna Hall (young Jenny in “Forrest Gump”) as Paige, the college student who becomes his part-time caretaker. Both young actors impress in these roles, but this is really Ms. Martindale’s tour de force.

I had a chance to ask Ms. Martindale about her career and what it’s like to play an unhinged mom bent on violent revenge.

DW: First, congratulations on your Emmy win.
You’ve got a Tony nomination under your belt (for Big Mama in “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof”), you’ve worked with some of Hollywood’s most revered directors (Clint Eastwood, Sydney Pollack), and you’ve been in over 40 films. Do you have a favorite project or experience? One that is particularly special to you?

MM: Of course “Justified” because it was such a rich and completely satisfying character and so much fun, but other than that I’d say it was the honor of having Alexander Payne write the role of Carol for me in the “14th Arrondissement” segment of “Paris Je T’aime.”  It was like doing a silent film because with only one exception I didn’t speak as we filmed, and later added voiceover narration.  He is such a gifted writer and director.  Plus, what better location to work is there than Paris!

DW: I’ve just watched “Scalene” and found it fascinating how the perception shifts throughout the film. As an actor, do you have to find a universal truth of the film… that is to say, do you have to “answer the questions” of the film’s internal logic in order to play the role as part of a whole? Or do you approach a puzzle like this by focusing exclusively on your character’s point of view?

MM: Typically I do search for the internal logic in the films I’m in, but Scalene was a little unique in that it dealt specifically with differing perceptions of events, so I believe that more so than usual, I approached it from my character’s point of view.

DW: The film focuses on an occurrence through the eyes of 3 different characters, almost in Rashoman style. Did you and director Zack Parker discuss which point of view is “true”?

MM: We discussed it many times, but Zack never revealed to me what he saw as the reality.  However, even if I had been told otherwise, I would have to have come at it from the perspective that I was telling the truth.

DW: One of the things I admire about “Scalene” is the fact that it was done on such a small budget with no special effects – just good old-fashioned storytelling. What attracted you to the role? How were you approached?

MM: Zack sent the script to my agent while I was on vacation who sent it along to me.  It was a real page-turner, and I immediately responded to the story and my character.  That was several months before shooting began and I was working on another project at the time.  Luckily the timing worked out and I was available to be a part of it. 

DW: This role is a departure for you. The character Janice Trimble is rough around the edges at best, and unhinged at worst. Is it fun to play that type of role? Or is it disturbing to get inside her mind? What was that experience like for you?

MM: I always love the opportunity to portray a character who is eccentric or “unhinged” as you said.  It’s very liberating to let go and not be bound in by conventional behavior.  The shooting experience was wonderful because Zack and the cast and crew were all wonderful.  We got along great and had a terrific time filming on a tight schedule. 

DW: Are you the type of actor who adopts something of the character between scenes? Or are you more the type who can turn it off and on?

MM: I can usually turn it on and off, but sometimes, depending on the role, I need to stay apart and be quiet.

DW: In this film, most of your work is done with two young actors, Hanna Hall as Paige, and Adam Scarimbolo as your son Jakob. Did they ask your advice? And do you know if Zack Parker was daunted at all about giving direction to someone with your resume?

MM: Actually, Adam, Hannah and I all three sought advice from one another.  They’re young, but very skilled.  Zack is quite confident and very clear in what he wants from the actors and the film.  He’s not someone who waivers or is intimidated, and he has no reason to be.  He has already developed his own style as a director.

DW: “Scalene” is more of a thriller with strong dramatic elements, but the online indie horror community has been very supportive, giving it lots of attention in blogs and such. Have the flood gates opened up for requests to do horror films?

MM: No, but I wish they would!  I LOVE HORROR MOVIES!

DW: You’re currently working on the TV show “A Gifted Man” with Patrick Wilson and Jennifer Ehle. But we know you’re never content to stick with one medium. What’s next for you?

MM: There’s a movie that I’m hoping to do with Ned Beatty which was written by his son, Thomas Beatty.  At the moment “A Gifted Man” is keeping me busy, and I’m really enjoying the experience and the luxury of working in New York where I live. 

You can watch Ms. Martindale go unhinged in the thriller “Scalene,” available on DVD now, and Blu-Ray November 8^th.

\”Scalene\” trailer (HD)

Jennifer Garner in "Butter"

The satirical comedy “Butter” screened at the 2011 Austin Film Festival to raucous laughter and exuberant applause. I was amongst those laughing out loud in giddy delight at the ballsy political incorrectness of it all. Its unabashedly R-rated sensibilities add to the feeling that the whole thing might ride off the rails at any moment, and sometimes it does go too far with mean-spirited jabs. But for the most part, the film is consistently funny.

Jennifer Garner plays the strident and wholly unlikeable Laura Pickler with hilarious conviction. She’s the wife of the town’s butter carving champion who gave admiring fans such works of genius as the life-sized Last Supper (sculpted entirely out of butter) and other remarkably intricate displays of butter carving prowess. But just as she’s sure they can parlay this notoriety into a bid for political office, the competition committee decides that her hubby (Ty Burrell) has won too many years in a row and should step aside to give others a chance. He humbly accepts this as a fair and inevitable turn of events, but plucky Mrs. Pickler decides she’ll take up carving herself thereby ensuring the Pickler name remains in the spotlight.

Across town in a less affluent neighborhood, a nice couple (Alicia Silverstone and Rob Corddry) adopt an adorable African-American girl named Destiny who’s been shuffled from foster home to foster home. Destiny (played with charm and intelligence by Yara Shahidi) has a healthy cynicism toward well-meaning white people, but she settles in comfortably. One day she happens to catch Mr. Pickler’s carving exhibit and is inspired to make the unlikely decision to give this “rednecky” (as her adoptive mother puts it) hobby a whirl.

This pits underdog-orphan Destiny against she-has-it-all Laura Pickler who, in the face of possibly losing the competition, proclaims that it’s not her fault she’s pretty, rich and white.

The political metaphor is obvious and audiences won’t have a hard time figuring out who represents who. I suppose some ardent Red Staters will take offense at the depiction of you-know-who as a desperate, attention-grubbing hack, but as the writer of the film (Jason Micallef) pointed out in the Q&A at AFF, it’s nearly impossible to write parody that lives up to the absurdity of you-know-who in real life.

Throw into the mix an angry local prostitute named Brooke Swinkowski (Olivia Wilde) who hates Laura Pickler’s guts so much that she enters the contest just to give her all kinds of hell and public humiliation. The character’s motivation is completely contrived, but it doesn’t matter a whit. She’s so wildly inappropriate and so single-minded in her task to take Laura down, that it’s impossible not to root for her.

Think of Tracy Flick in Alexander Payne’s “Election” (1999) and you’ll have some idea of how much fun it is to hate Laura Pickler.

Hugh Jackman has a couple of brief scenes in which he plays a cowboy/car salesman ex-boyfriend of Laura’s that inadvertently falls into her trap of manipulation and deceit. He makes the most of his few minutes onscreen and seems to have a lot of fun doing so.

It all culminates in the state’s big carving competition and you can probably guess how it turns out.

There is a ham-fisted attempt to interject some sentimentality toward the end of the film, which comes off as forced and tonally incongruous. In general, though, nothing in this film is particularly subtle. It’s safe to say, “Butter” lays it all on a bit thick.

If you like broad political satire, you’ll love this movie.

3.5 of 5 stars

It all starts with some lay-offs. Stanley Tucci passes off a thumb drive with some valuable information on it as he’s being booted out the door. The young analyst who receives it (Zachary Quinto) does what a good analyst should – he analyzes it. What he finds is that the firm has been operating way outside of the acceptable bounds of risk for some time, and the proverbial shit is about to hit the proverbial fan. He kicks this info up the chain of command, and pretty soon the top dogs (Kevin Spacey, Demi Moore, Paul Bettany, Simon Baker) are pulling an all-nighter trying to determine what options might possibly exist that would allow them to save the company. They come up with bupkiss.

“Tuld”, played with an almost gleeful snarl by Jeremy Irons, shows up and tells them exactly what to do: Fire sale! Dump the junk! Fire everybody after they’ve spent the day dumping the questionable “assets”, and what’s left will be… well, the people most responsible for the meltdown in the first place, with the exception of one lone head on a pike which they must offer up to the board.

Sam Rogers (played with a good deal of sympathy by Kevin Spacey) wonders aloud how Tuld can be so calm throughout all of this. He muses, “Clearly, you know something I don’t.” And the audience knows it too: Tuld’s pals in Washington will see to it that the company stands, and you and I will foot the bill.

“Margin Call” does a good job of illuminating some of the murkier ins and outs of Wall Street shenanigans by taking us into the lair, so to speak, but it’s hard to muster much empathy. Some effort is made to show the insular world in which they operate and how questionable decision making is based on the fear of losing the station they’ve worked so hard to attain. There is some talk of “What will this do the regular people?” but ultimately the film stays focused on what it does to the people who operate at the upper levels.

After a lifetime of long hours, lost youth, sacrificed health and marriages, when it’s all said and done they’ve spent their time shuffling paper around. They haven’t made anything, built anything, planned anything, or served anything other than making a very small handful of people very rich. It’s this realization that knocks the light out of Spacey’s eyes, and he shows us what a fine actor he really is.

First time director J.C. Chandor shows remarkable restraint in slowly building unease and tension as the night wears on and turns in to a hellish day. There’s a steely gray look to the cinematography and this furthers a sense of cold distance. Ultimately, “Margin Call” plays like a complex tutorial given by some of our finest actors, who perhaps use lines like, “Explain it to me like I’m dumb.” one too many times to be believed.

But as far as tutorials go, most of us could use one on this topic. It is doubtful that “Margin Call” will be the definitive film on Wall Street, but it’s quite possibly the best one so far.

3.5 of 5 stars

The story begins with young Michael in the backseat of a car getting “what for” from his Dad for having lost his eyeglasses. Up front, his mom (Julia Roberts) defends the boy as the argument continues to escalate. Eventually, young Michael is tossed out of the car onto the side of the road to watch his parents drive away as rain begins to pelt from a merciless sky. The boy reaches in his pocket and pulls out his glasses that had been there the whole time. Here we see the basis of the strain between father and son – father pushes too hard, but the son also goads him, delighting in perhaps the only control he has: the ability to enrage his father.

There are two timelines: the past where Dafoe’s character becomes more abusive and Michael’s refuge is an increasingly close (perhaps too close?) relationship with his young Aunt Jane (played by feisty and fun to watch Hayden Panettiere), and the present where the family gathers for a funeral and deals with issues that have lain dormant all these years.

There are an overly ambitious number of subplots, most of which remain frayed and unsatisfying. For example, Michael’s estranged wife (Carrie-Anne Moss) shows up for the funeral but seems to appear only to participate in one scene that provides some comic relief. Throughout the rest of the movie, her presence is given no meaning at all. Michael’s relationship with Aunt Jane as an adult (Emily Watson) still has a hint of sexual tension that is never explored or explained, but she’s so angry and suspicious of him the moment they are reunited that one gets the feeling the heart of this subplot was gutted in editing.

Perhaps the most troubling subplot involves the film’s biggest star, Ms. Roberts, whose character offers relatively mild protests regarding her son’s abuse but allows it to continue anyway. Sure, she’s there to comfort him after the fact but that should not be enough to endear her. A good mother would put a stop to it, not just show up later to pat the boy on the head. Sympathy for this important character is lost in scene one and never regained. In fact, the only time she threatens to leave her husband is when she suspects him of having an affair. She’s got the guts to leave over another woman but lacks the courage to leave in order to protect her son? Sorry, I found this character uninspiring in every conceivable way.

There are more subplots (too many to list) involving the impressive ensemble but none really resonate, except for Michael’s relationship with Jane’s kids, who are technically his cousins but more the age of nieces and nephews. Here, Reynolds shines with comic timing and good-natured wit. He fares the best among the cast, and after a tough year (“Green Lantern”, “The Change-Up”), he deserves kudos for that.

The film’s episodic structure creates emotional distance but is secondary in concern to the director’s penchant for melodrama. Emotional outbursts can work in a film when they are earned through consistent story-telling and characterization, such that when they finally boil to the surface it feels like an inevitable culmination of the moments that preceded it. But with fractured storylines and sketches of characters, such moments tend to feel forced.

It is impressive (and curious) that this first-time helmer was able to get such monumental talent involved in his project. Unfortunately, this feels like one of those cases where the author/director was too close to the material to be able to sculpt it objectively.

Shot in Austin, Bastrop, and Smithville, mostly bucolic scenes are captured with graceful cinematography by Ms. Roberts’ hubby Danny Moder, and this lends the film a good deal of polish.  Ultimately, “Fireflies in the Garden” takes on the feel of a glorified Lifetime movie, with only rare flashes of something special scattered here and there – a lot like fireflies in the night sky.

2 of 5 stars

The film opens as Martha sneaks away from the commune in the wee hours of the morning. She’s trembling, terrified. A desperate call from a pay phone to her sister brings a ride and a respite away from whatever horrors she’s just escaped. Unfortunately, leaving and truly escaping are two different things.

As the two timelines play out with an alternating rhythm, the dark details of Martha’s time at the farm lend insight into her bizarre and inappropriate behaviors in the “real” world. At first there are fairly innocuous gaffes, such as skinny-dipping in the lake (Horrors! The neighbors might see!) and sitting on countertops. But gradually the tenuous grasp Martha has on reality becomes more apparent and disturbing. Her relationship with her sister (Sarah Paulson) and brother-in-law (Hugh Dancy) become increasingly strained, not just because of her odd behavior, but because the only family she’s got left are fairly shallow, self-obsessed yuppies. They want the big money, the prestige apartment in the city, and a new baby. Martha simply does not fit (and probably wouldn’t even if she were not suffering post-traumatic stress.) Ultimately, the sad fact is she’s a lost young woman without a home or a real family. She fits nowhere, which helps us to understand how and why she may have succumbed to the lure of the commune in the first place.

Life at the commune is at first inviting and warm, then increasingly creepy. John Hawkes plays cult leader Patrick with the right blend of charm and sinister reserve. One gets the feeling that while he speaks in soft tones, just one wrong move might cause an explosion. He manipulates “family” members by the giving and withholding of love and approval, and justifies horrific deeds with twisted Manson-esque logic (“Death is the ultimate act of love.”) This isn’t a religious cult, it’s a cult of personality, and the victims are wayward youths in desperate need of unconditional love. Just when it seems they’ve found it, the conditions arise – and they are heavy. The indoctrination is methodical and steady. Patrick knows what he’s doing.

It doesn’t escape notice that the farm is populated with attractive girls and dim-witted boys willing to do Patrick’s bidding. However, one assumes the means with which Patrick brainwashes the boys is a bit different, and we aren’t given much insight there. Another question that came to mind early in the film is just how the idea of coming to the farm is first broached with potential members. How did Martha meet the friend who brought her there? What were her expectations?

As each member settles in, they “find their purpose” among the group and contribute to the hippie commune lifestyle, the women are sexually used at Patrick’s will, and there is a bit of a hierarchy among members who have been there longer. Martha eventually becomes a “handler” for the new girl, and it is then that we see how fully she’s lost all sense of self.

Elizabeth Olsen (Martha) gives a strong performance that will likely do for her what “Winter’s Bone” did for Jennifer Lawrence last year. It is doubtful anyone will confuse Elizabeth with her famous sisters ever again. John Hawkes is brilliant, as always, and deserving of awards attention. Sarah Paulson and Hugh Dancy are fine in roles that aren’t meant to be terribly likeable, but serve the story well. The cinematography is lush, giving personality to both the humble commune in upstate New York, and the upscale lakeside home in Connecticut. Durkin’s pacing is deliberate and does not get in a hurry.

The central issue in “Martha Marcy May Marlene” is two-fold: how reliable are Martha’s memories, and more importantly, how real is her perception of the present? The chilling final sequence will have you pondering those questions as you leave the theater.

4 of 5 stars.

Mia Wasikowska, (an actress with perhaps the most friendly, expressive face in the business), plays Annabelle with a spritely joy that juxtaposes nicely with Henry Hopper’s more brooding persona. Indeed, Hopper (son of Dennis) calls to mind River Phoenix, exuding a gentle spirit and a kind of lost soul quality that is hard to resist.

In addition to funeral-crashing, the two share other odd obsessions, such as cultivating a wardrobe from a (very) by-gone era and talking to ghosts. If this all sounds a bit too intentionally precious and off-beat, it probably is. In fact, the film is such a departure for director Gus Van Sant (“My Own Private Idaho”, “Milk”) that it feels more like a Wes Anderson film with its sad, outsider characters and their accompanying indie folk soundtrack (but without the wry insight and signature Anderson visual style.)

Enoch and Annabelle’s budding romance is halting, awkward and sweet. They aren’t in a hurry to throw themselves at one another. The soft-hewed cinematography complements the tenderness of their courtship and the sweet, melancholy tone of the film. But at the same time, the muted look gives the film a dreamlike quality that is somewhat distancing and surreal. The urgent and gritty truth behind Annabelle’s circumstances are whitewashed in other ways as well – she never seems physically incapable or even tired until the plot calls for her to have an emergency.

There is an odd subplot dealing with Hiroshi the Ghost, who seems more like Enoch’s imaginary friend. His purpose in the story is not always clear, except that he provides a sounding board for Enoch, and the fact that Annabelle believes in his existence simply because Enoch does, endears her even further.

As one might expect, the collision of these two characters at their respective crossroads brings them both to a deeper understanding of life, death and what it means to love. Their romance brings Enoch back to life, just as Annabelle is fading away, and it’s this intersection that gives a potentially depressing story a life-affirming conclusion. The film’s wordless final sequence is especially poignant.

The strength of “Restless” lies in the performances, but the weakness lies in the sinking feeling that all the whimsy is manufactured. The recipe seems to be leftover stew from “Harold and Maude”, “Love Story” and “Garden State.”

Perhaps every generation needs a weepy love story. Young people of a certain temperament are likely to take this one to heart. For everyone else, it’s a melancholy confection that may test your tolerance for all things quirky.

3 of 5 stars.

Michael Shannon (“Revolutionary Road”) plays Curtis LaForche, a good man who loves his wife and daughter, works hard, and has the respect of his friends and community… until the dreams begin.

Soon, Curtis begins seeing visions of the storm even during waking hours. This is particularly troubling because there is a history of schizophrenia in his family, and he feels trapped and alone with this problem, afraid to tell his wife that he may be developing the very disease that put his mother into a lifetime of institutions. Although Curtis makes many questionable decisions, Michael Shannon’s intense charisma helps create a haunting portrait of a tortured man who never loses our sympathy.

His wife, Samantha, is played with remarkable wisdom and empathy by the up-and-coming Jessica Chastain (“Tree of Life”, “The Help”). Ms. Chastain’s performance is so wrought with gentle subtext that she calls to mind a Cate Blanchett, or yes, even a young Meryl Streep. At every turn, we understand her motivation and inner thought process perfectly, without it ever spoken aloud. Her performance is so earthy and real that it’s hard to imagine it was scripted at all. But scripted it is, and wonderfully so. What a treat to see the “wife of a troubled man” role not played for the harpy or long-suffering do-gooder. She is relatable and stands in her own integrity every step of the way.

Kathy Baker’s memorable turn as Curtis’ mother in a singular sad scene gives us a great deal of insight into his insistence on secrecy.  But while Curtis explores the possibility that he’s losing his mind, he simultaneously begins preparing for the storm in bizarre and disturbing ways that threaten his family’s security and all of his relationships.

This is director Jeff Nichols’ sophomore effort, after the well-received “Shotgun Stories” (also starring Shannon). Nichols exudes self-confidence in his framing and shot choices, allowing subtle camera movement to create a slow, creeping sensation in early sequences, and a gut-wrenching foreboding in the vast, darkening skies. The suspense works in a literal sense but also as an allegory for our times, with Curtis portraying the every-man stricken with a sense of impending doom and helplessness in the face of vast and powerful forces. 

“Take Shelter” builds to a climax that defies Hollywood conventions, so don’t go in with pre-conceived notions. Just let it take you where it will. This is not a fast-paced thriller by any means, but it is darkly compelling and has haunted this reviewer long after leaving the theater. It will be among the best of 2011.

5 of 5 stars

Joseph Gordon-Levitt plays Adam, a careful 27-year-old who jogs, eats right, and waits for the ‘walk’ signal before crossing the street — just the sort of guy to get stricken with a rare unpronounceable form of cancer that he’s got only a 50/50 chance of surviving.  Gordon-Levitt is certainly among his generation’s most gifted actors, and this role allows him to play with almost all the colors in the emotion rainbow: affably sweet, insecure, dark, light, vengeful, forgiving, withholding, generous, hopeful and afraid. He can take you there with just a look.

His best friend is Seth Rogen. The character has a name (Kyle) but it doesn’t matter. Seth Rogen plays Seth Rogen. This is both a blessing and a curse. His brilliant timing and off-the-wall asides make for some of the heartiest laughs you’re likely to get in a movie now or ever. Unfortunately, the script relies much too heavily on the “you gotta get laid” buddy character cliché. Rogen persists with this trope for so long into the film that one wonders why Adam would be friends with him. Truly, even the most shallow jerk on the planet would probably give that a rest once his friend is deep into chemo and can hardly stand up. There are some other shades to Rogen’s character that peek through now and again, and we relish those moments.

Adam’s girlfriend is played by the beautiful and talented Bryce Dallas Howard, who offers up another “ice queen” role coming on the heels of her Hilly Holbrook in “The Help.”

Adam’s very young shrink-in-training is played with quirky vim and vigor by Anna Kendrick (“Up in the Air”), whose charms have been largely lost on me until now. Adam is only her third patient and she hasn’t quite mastered the fine art of “spontaneous” comforting physical contact – the shoulder pat, the hand squeeze. Adam lets her practice on him, and their awkward rapport is instantly endearing.

Rounding out the cast is Philip Baker Hall and Matt Frewer as Adam’s jovial and supportive chemo pals, and Anjelica Huston as his overbearing but well-meaning mother.

With such a chancy topic for a comedy, hopes were high that the film as a whole would be bold enough to avoid formulaic plot points. However, it pretty much hits all the beats exactly where and how you’d expect them. It’s the witty dialogue and charming, humane characterizations that provide the surprises.

Director Jonathan Levine (“The Wackness”) knows how to get wonderful performances from the young cast and some unexpected qualities from the veterans. The hip score feels right, and Pearl Jam’s “Ledbetter” is used to sublime effect in the closing shot.

It’s impossible for anyone who has been touched by cancer to watch a movie on the subject without looking for authenticity. Levine makes a big mistake in his handling of Adam’s make-up toward the end of his chemo treatments. The hair on his head is gone, but his eyebrows remain, and the dark circles under his eyes are never more severe than one might expect from a hangover. It’s likely The Powers That Be thought it unwise (in box office terms) to let the handsome leading man look like Uncle Fester, as most chemo patients do for a time. Perhaps they thought it would be too depressing or that audiences wouldn’t embrace Adam if he wasn’t cute enough. Shame on them for that. In a movie that’s meant to take you into the experience of a young cancer victim, it’s a colossal cop-out to avoid the subject of how drastically the outer appearance changes. We would love Adam with or without eyebrows, I promise.

The classic 1983 film “Terms of Endearment” (another cancer comedy/drama) is referenced in “50/50”. This film isn’t that good, but it will make you laugh, and it might make you cry.

4 of 5 stars.

The hikers don’t wait around to find out who may be coming for the girl. They quickly strategize the best way to get her to safety and call for help. Unfortunately, things go horribly awry when the culprits realize their ransom scheme has been interrupted. The wounded and unarmed hikers soon find themselves hunted in the wilderness like animals.

Strong performances from the ensemble cast add emotional resonance to the inherently suspenseful action. Melissa George (“30 Days of Night”, “Grey’s Anatomy”) plays Allison, the natural leader among the hikers and the most heroic of the group. Ed Speelers (“Eragon”) plays a much more reluctant hero but ultimately a willing participant in the quest to save the girl. Sean Harris is particularly memorable as the steely, soulless monster who put the child in the ground.

The script is full of genuine surprises and suspense, and the director allows each location to become the centerpiece of the action: rugged mountain terrain, an exotic village festival, a modest house engulfed in flames. Each in their own way presents new dangers and challenges for Allison and the girl as they struggle to stay one step ahead of the kidnappers.

“A Lonely Place to Die” grabs your attention very quickly and holds it to the end.

4 of 5 stars.

Well, meet Cesar (Luis Tosar), a lonely concierge at an upscale Barcelona apartment building. He doesn’t so much want to kill the shiny, happy people that live in his building. He wants to make them so deeply miserable as to wipe the smiles off of their faces forever.

Director Jauma Balaguero is best known for horror films that take place in single-location settings (“Fragile”, “Rec”, “Rec 2”), but while those films rely on creepy interiors to create a sense of claustrophobic unease, “Sleep Tight” takes place in an open, sunny building that seems (aside from the hired help) a lovely place to live. It’s the interior of Cesar’s mind that provides the chills.

Cesar’s misanthropy extends to everyone around him, but he’s particularly fixated on the incessantly perky and pretty Clara (Marta Etura). He sneaks into her apartment by day and night, doing things that I won’t tell you. Suffice to say, I will be checking behind my shower curtain and under my bed when I come home from now on.

There’s a bratty little girl in the building who has caught wise to Cesar’s shenanigans at Clara’s place and she blackmails him for cash and “adult movies” in exchange for her silence. It is in this relationship and some of the technical choices of the film that its point of view can be a bit stomach-turning. For example, the bratty neighbor subplot seems to exist solely to add tension around the concern that Cesar might be found out. And there are music cues that indicate that the audience, at least subconsciously, is meant to be on the edge of their seats for Cesar when he is about to be caught in Clara’s apartment. None of the characters who threaten to get in Cesar’s way are portrayed with any sympathy. In truth, though his actions are abhorrent and utterly cringe-inducing, this is Cesar’s story all the way. We’re not exactly meant to root for him, but it does seem as though we’re meant to want to see his master plan play out in full.

And play out, it does.

There is a particularly gory scene that gives the film its obligatory splatter moment, but it’s the psychological cruelty that really makes the lasting impression here. The scene in which Cesar tells an elderly tenant just how little her life means to those around her, in the kindest of tones but coldest of words, is much more eviscerating than any slasher moment could ever be. It’s one thing to watch fake blood splatter on a wall. It’s something else entirely to watch cruel truth shatter a kind spirit. And the film goes one further: the final scene of “Sleep Tight” is so emotionally sadistic that it will stick with you for a long while.

Balaguero wields Hitchcockian techniques in new and twisted ways. This is a masterfully crafted psychological creep-out, and certainly not for the faint of heart.

4 of 5 stars.

The film begins promisingly with an intriguing opening sequence followed by a series of getting-to-know-you moments that include an AA meeting and Larry’s first visit to a Jiu Jitsu studio where his instructor, Darren, espouses non-violent philosophies and techniques intended to “subdue” potential assailants rather than hurt them. One might think that Larry’s addiction and Darren’s philosophies might come into play later when the action picks up, but one would be wrong.

In fact, “Aardvark” feels like two different movies. I would love to see the movie that is set up in the first half, but alas, I had to watch the rest of “Aardvark” instead.

The first sign of trouble is when Larry begins “hanging out” with his instructor buddy and they (naturally) go to a strip club where Darren (naturally) has a stripper acquaintance (naturally) named Candy. Yes, just that quickly something seemingly original at the outset shifts drastically into rote territory.

{Spoilers below!

It seems the peace-loving instructor Darren isn’t so peaceful and loving, after all (though he does share an intimate moment with a body pillow.) Darren is into some shady shit, and we’re never let in on the details but that doesn’t really matter. He’s got a pissed-off crime partner (or some such) and lo and behold, Darren winds up dead. Our man Larry finds him on the floor covered in sticky stuff that he wisely concludes is blood. And thus begins Larry’s rampage of revenge. That’s right. It’s not that someone killed his family, or his one true love, or stole his life savings and left him homeless and starving. Nope. His martial arts teacher dies. Is it just me, or does this seem like a pretty low threshold for bloody revenge?

Anyway… suddenly Larry (a formerly jovial guy) is pushing chicks around in bars and talkin’ wise to baddies and using his Jiu Jitsu skills in utterly non-peaceful ways to force our gal Candy into helping him go after Darren’s killer. I can’t help but note that Larry is wearing tan khakis, a starched blue button-down shirt, and white sneakers while he’s doing all of this.

Weirder still, after several false starts on the trail of Darren’s killer, Candy just suddenly gives him a name (out of the blue) and Larry robotically goes about the business of blowing the guy to Jesus. It’s unclear what we’re supposed to feel when a character we thought we knew does things we thought he wouldn’t, and the comeuppance is exacted upon a baddie that we’ve never met before, don’t know anything about, and have no rooting interest in seeing suffer.

“Aardvark” is to film noir as paint-by-numbers is to Picasso. You can follow the “rules” and move from point A to point B, but without any nuance, shading, or soul, it definitely loses something in the translation.

Ironically, it’s the role of Candy-the-stripper that offers the film’s best performance. Newcomer Jessica Cole manages to turn in a believable performance in spite of the bad writing and acting that goes on around her. Here’s hoping the filmmakers who see “Aardvark” at festivals give her the chance to shine in something more worthy.

2.5 of 5 stars.

It would be lower, but there’s a WTF Factor that can’t be denied.