LE TEMPS QUE RESTE

Written and Directed by Francois Ozon

To a great extent, the premise of French director, Francois Ozon’s latest film, LE TEMPS QUI RESTE, reads like a daytime drama storyline. An attractive 31-year-old photographer is told he has an extreme cancer that has spread through his body. It cannot be removed and, though treatment is an option, he does not have a strong chance of survival. He has but a few months left to live. What elevates this film above the potential for clichéd melodrama is the way the photographer, Romain (played by Melvil Poupaud), reacts to this news. He has little time to resolve his life and relationships. He has little time to fully embrace who he is. Yet he does not make peace with everyone in his life, one by one. Instead, he avoids the whole damn thing. Only, as he avoids, he manages to find the foundation of these relationships and begins to understand their significance, how they have helped shape the man he is. He puts his life into perspective his way and finds out that all this time, despite his selfish existence, he has also been a part of something much bigger.

LE TEMPS QUI RESTE is thankfully brief as no one wants to spend too much time watching someone die. It does however make the most of the time it has. When Romain first learns the news, he avoids sharing it with anyone in his life, from his family to his boyfriend to his employer. As he sits at a family dinner and people ask what is new in his life, it is painful to watch him say nothing, especially as he continues to withdraw. Poupaud’s performance humbles Romain as he goes from cocky and assured to constantly being overwhelmed by his own grief. He looks afraid to say that he is dying, to make it real, to place that pain on anyone else. Instead, he buries it and suffers silently. You want so much for him to reach out to the people who clearly love him that when he doesn’t, you just want to wrap your own arms around him. When he finally does share the news, his choice of confidante is calculated. He chooses to tell someone who can understand because, as Romain so plainly puts it, she too will be dying soon.


Along with Romain, the viewer has some resolution, some peace brought back to a time of chaos. Romain spends so much time convincing himself that the people around him do not need nor deserve to know about his condition because their relationships are so complicated. Only his solitude brings him the clarity necessary to remember how these relationships began. More importantly, these memories are the ones he associates most cleanly with naïve, unchecked happiness. With death imminently waiting for him, the search for happiness that he gave up on is rejuvenated when he sees how close he was to it all the while. Romain’s memories come to him at random moments and their nature demonstrates the talent of Ozon as writer and director. They are simple memories that may have seemed all too simple at the time they took place but these memories went on to bring Romain closer to others and himself. And as the memories come more frequently, he learns to integrate them into his current reality. Thus when he goes, he goes having lived a short but full life.

Death is a construct, an inevitability, a mystery, a fear to face. In LE TEMPS QUI RESTE, it is also a process that is nothing more than the last clue to understanding your life. In Romain’s final moments, death becomes necessary to complete the journey, a journey that would mean nothing at all if it weren’t ending to begin with.

LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE

Written by Michael Arndt
Directed by Jonathan Dayton & Valerie Faris

LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE is this year’s Sundance breakout and nearly all the press its received thus far has lauded it as, well, a little ray of sunshine to carry audiences through the last month of summer. It is the independent underdog that will tickle your funny bone, stimulate your mind and warm your heart. This little movie has so much to live up to and it has barely even gone wide at the moment I am writing this. LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE isn’t generating its own buzz; it’s having its buzz generated by the machine that wants so badly for it to be that movie it could. Y’know which one I’m talking about. The smaller, simpler movie that allows a more mature audience to wind down their summer, to let the ringing in their ears from all the explosive blockbusters subside. What the machine doesn’t understand is that the movie that fills that particular void is not manufactured. It is genuine and it earns that honour all by itself.

This honour is not one I feel LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE would have earned if it weren’t manufactured for it. Albeit an endearing film with authentic moments of hilarity and sentiment, it is often disconnected and unresolved. The dual director team of Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris create a believable family unit by giving each member their own personal touch. Dad is a failed motivational speaker; Mom has to deal with loser dad; Grandpa has a heroine problem; older brother has taken a vow of silence until he becomes a fighter pilot; and gay uncle Frank is fresh out of the hospital after trying to kill himself. Dealing themselves such a diverse hand of characters leaves many opportunities to cross the line between quirky and just plain awkward, which they do more often then they should. Then of course there’s Little Miss Sunshine wannabe herself, Olive. With an earnest enthusiasm and innocence beaming from her face (like a ray of … sorry), untouched and uncorrupted Olive reminds the family that they are in fact a family. It’s a lovely story but it is one that only takes shape in the final moments of the film. Prior to that, each character’s individual problems guide all of their own motivations and they only barely have any depth past these problems. Shifting each characters’ focus outwards gives the film some much needed structure but it leaves many an issue either unresolved or resolved far too quickly.


The ensemble cast of LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE reigns as the true heart of this organism. Cramped together in their yellow mini-bus, many different personalities fester. Greg Kinnear and Toni Collette are the heads of the family. Collette is merely a device to highlight the failures of her husband through her aggravation with him. Kinnear’s role however is hefty and he stridently carries that weight as an emasculated patriarch who preaches his failed life lessons to his daughter because she is the only one still buying them. Like another successful family piece, Noah Baumbach’s THE SQUID AND THE WHALE, the influence of the parents on the children manifests before your eyes in a difficult and painful fashion. Steve Carrell plays suicidal uncle, Frank, like a seemingly dormant volcano that may or may not erupt. You just can’t tell. His mystery is heartening and shows promise for his developing capabilities.

As a critic, shedding expectations is a higher state of being I try to achieve before I watch anything. I don’t read other reviews before I see the movie or even before I sit down to write my own, all as an effort to keep it real (dawg). It only takes a quick glance at a magazine cover to get whether people are hating, liking or really loving a movie so it is hard to avoid entirely. But as much as I try to approach each film with a fresh piece of paper to write on, buzz manages to influence the way we see things. When I’m told that something is really solid and it isn’t, even just a little, my disappointment is magnified. LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE has so many things going for it that what it is lacking makes it all the more frustrating because you really want it to live up to the hype. Still ...

SCOOP

Written and Directed by Woody Allen

MATCHPOINT was a welcome and impressive return for Woody Allen as a director and a writer. Lush art direction and intuitive camera movement framed performances that brought Allen’s best script in over a decade to a dangerously high boil. It was sensual and provocative with deeply layered imagery. It earned four Golden Globe nominations, an original screenplay Oscar nomination and made this critic’s best film of 2006 short list. It now seems its success has spawned a somewhat awkward offshoot, a relationship between Allen and lead actress of both MATCHPOINT and Allen’s latest picture, SCOOP, Scarlett Johansson. According to the SCOOP press (or perhaps a spirit appeared to me and told me about this while I was being dematerialized, I can’t be sure), Johansson and Allen enjoyed their quick-witted off-screen banter so much that she felt it a shame that the two did not have any plans to work together on camera. I suppose its possible he too felt this was a sad situation, or I suppose its also possible he saw this as a great way to spend more intimate time with his new muse, but anyway you look at it, Allen decided to write a script that would feature the two as the film’s leads. And so SCOOP was born, the story of an American journalism student in London who is on the verge of uncovering the identity of the infamous tarot card serial killer and thus breaking a ginormous story that will give her budding career an enormous head start. Great for her but SCOOP negates in an hour a half all the momentum Allen regained in the first two brilliant minutes of MATCHPOINT. I laughed my way through SCOOP but most of the time I was laughing at the entirely ludicrous root of the story and Allen’s obvious concessions in his script that were necessary to make it still questionably plausible.

Is this exchange between Allen and Johansson really worth all this trouble? Admittedly, they play well off of each other, both in their limited capacities. Hers, despite exhibiting a drastically wide range of emotions in MATCHPOINT, is her sometimes-hollow comedic delivery and his is that distant, glassy look that comes naturally with age but here makes him look like he’s drifting in and out of his senses. They meet when he calls her on stage. He is a magician; she is his unsuspecting audience member who must step into a box. Then, because it was in Allen’s box that she first encounters a spirit that gives her the scoop while she is being dematerialized (now that earlier comment makes sense to you, it?), she insists on solving this mystery with Allen’s help. They quickly become inseparable despite having any good reason to be in this caper together. He is constantly tripping over the lies the pair tells to get close to their suspect, often nearly ruining all their work. Meanwhile, he has no real stake to gain by helping her at all. A typical scene will have the two snapping back and forth, reaching points where they both alternately ask why they bother with the other, followed by the two inexplicably reconciling and eating dinner together.


Allen has been directing films since the 1960’s. He should have been able to spot some fairly simple story adjustments that would have better justified the pairing of the two. Instead of perhaps lying to people about Allen being her father, maybe he could have just been written as her father. No way Daddy will walk away and let his daughter investigate a serial killer no matter how much she yells. Instead, Allen plays a relative stranger, leaving the only reason for them to spend time together being that they share some solid chemistry and the same sense of humour. Oh, that was the reason for writing this to begin with. And that glassy look that Allen sports onscreen also found its way off-screen. SCOOP’s aesthetic elements are strained and clumsy. The set designed for the boat to Hades scenes (yes, you read correctly), looks cheap and static. It doesn’t even appear as if the boat were moving amidst the abundant smoke from the machine off camera. The framing and camera work are also uncomfortable and sometimes amateurish. As I found it difficult to focus on anything other than the strange movement, I just became sad realizing the depth and purpose in MATCHPOINT’s aesthetics may have been fleeting. Thank God Hugh Jackman is on hand as the suspected serial killer to distract with his effortless talent and impeccably smooth good looks.

It isn’t entirely fair to repeatedly compare SCOOP to its predecessor, MATCHPOINT, but I cannot comprehend how the same person directed the two. MATCHPOINT has so much cunning and energy whereas SCOOP suffers from Allen’s longtime philosophy that there is no reason why he cannot unleash one movie every year. Here's the reason, Woody. The result is a rushed work full of holes that expose it as a weak excuse to indulge two actors’ egos. Chemistry alone does not a good movie make, especially when the chemistry in question is far from perfect. Um, see MATCHPOINT instead.

A SCANNER DARKLY

Written and Directed by Richard Linklater

Three men drive down an American highway on a mission. They are driving to a neighbouring city and they plan on partying it up on the way, while they’re there and all the way home again. Their drug of choice is Substance D, what will be the most popular drug seven years from now, when A SCANNER DARKLY takes place. While speeding along, the car breaks down. What ensues is a hilarious journey into the far depths of drug-induced paranoia. They debate whether this car trouble was pre-meditated, whether their home is simultaneously being ransacked by the same people who sabotaged their car … whether one of them actually anticipated this entire series of events and left the door unlocked and an invitation to enter taped to the front of it. Their plans have been ruined but what they don’t realize is that there was nothing special about this occasion as getting messed up is pretty much what they do every day. As ridiculous as this sequence is, it is also completely useless. It is one in a long string of pointless scenes that are told in a disjointed fashion to give character to what is otherwise a flat and uninteresting film.

A SCANNER DARKLY is director Richard Linklater’s second film to implement an animation technique called rotoscoping, where loosely flowing animation is laid over filmed live-action sequences. The results are mesmerizing and hypnotic. It is also a technique that is capable of accomplishing what most directors have struggled with for years. It creates the illusion that Keanu Reeves can actually act. Joining Reeves in this animated parallel universe are Robert Downey Jr, Woody Harrelson and Winona Ryder. Reeves plays an undercover narcotics agent named Bob Arctor, who can’t seem to differentiate between his personas. The drugs have blurred his existence to the point that he can’t quite grasp whether the images of a wife and family that he has in his mind are a memory or just an image. As his confusion grows, so does his addiction. The results make it difficult to ascertain what life Arctor is actually leading. Shortly before the film ends, Linklater reveals an element that explains all the jarring elements encountered along the way. Suddenly, the story becomes clear and it is seen as nothing more than a straightforward nark story. The explanation may solidify the arch but it doesn’t appease any frustration one might have, having spent so long trying to make sense of what one thought was something different.


Substance D keeps Linklater’s characters detached from each other and themselves. Although the majority of the characters are addicts without a history, Arctor fell into drugs as a reaction to the perfection he thought he had achieved in his life. Adapting author Philip K. Dick’s autobiographical account of how he fell into drugs, Linklater reinforces how people spend so much time walking blindly towards the achievements they always felt would make their life significant and full. The rejection of that comfort through drug usage ultimately leads to a much larger sense of discomfort. It makes the idea of getting close to someone in a sober, authentic context unthinkable and frightening. Finally, Arctor has run away from intimacy and finds himself wanting to have that again but not being capable of having it because his world no longer makes any sense.

The beauty of A SCANNER DARKLY is in its aesthetic. Remove that and I doubt the film would be watchable. Linklater’s previous attempt at this style, WAKING LIFE, was infinitely more successful because the technique lends to the psychedelic dreamscape setting and existentialist-themed conversations. Here, the technique is a life preserver for a bunch of drowning druggies.

SUPERMAN RETURNS

Written by Michael Dougherty & Dan Harris
Directed by Bryan Singer

A distant planet explodes, announcing the arrival. It is followed swiftly by large retro/electro credits flying directly towards the audience while a familiar score reemerges after twenty years. Superman has returned. From the very start, director Bryan Singer infuses his interpretation with an energy that reverberates respect and admiration for the legend that is Superman. Care is being taken and a calculated effort is being made not to disparage a character that is beloved by so many, Singer included. At a two and half hour running time, SUPERMAN flies by (not faster than a speeding bullet but fast enough). Not noticing the time ordinarily signifies an enjoyable event but here it serves better as a mask to hide the multitude of strange decisions that make the mighty SUPERMAN RETURNS weak and exposed.

Like any revival of a lucrative movie franchise, the script for SUPERMAN RETURNS went through many hands before it ended up in those of Michael Dougherty and Dan Harris, past Singer collaborators (X-MEN 2). Despite the amount of care being given to this project, the script choices, above all else, are responsible for occasionally killing the illusion. The jarring plot points fall into two categories, bizarre and irresponsible. The bizarre is best exemplified in a scene meant to show that Superman has started cleaning up the streets of the world again. After saving many situations from ruin around the world, Superman, played by the impeccably smooth-skinned Brandon Routh, finds himself back in Metropolis, where he is about to foil a bank robbery. The robber has positioned himself on the top of the bank with a rapid-fire machine gun so large that it requires an immense stand to prop itself upon. I am first unclear how the robber felt his mission would go so wrong that it made sense to bring such a monstrosity. Mind you, the building does end up surrounded by police officers so I guess it was good he planned ahead. However, when Superman has the gun turned on him, each bullet is deflected because, and I’m sure had I done any research before going I would have known that Superman is completely indestructible. You can even shoot him in the eye and he’ll get you anyway. He’s that frickin’ awesome. And I know this because Singer just spent a good ten minutes shoving it in my face. Fear not, I gave nothing of the story away as the scene serves no purpose in the larger picture.


Superman stands for truth, justice and all that is good and noble. So why does he have no issue putting the moves on Lois Lane (Kate Bosworth), a woman in a long term relationship with a six-year-old child? My brother would argue that nowhere does it say that Superman stands for loyalty but I’m fairly positive he’s supposed to be comparatively selfless. Whereas it makes perfect logistical sense for Lois to have moved on after Superman disappeared six years prior without a word (although, judging from the age of her son, she moved on pretty quickly), it makes for a very poor example of a couple to hope for. Lois’s boyfriend, Richard White (James Marsden working with Singer for the first time with his eyes open), is a good man. Sure, he’s a little jealous of Superman but he’s a good father and a supporting boyfriend and c’mon, how could you not be jealous of Superman? So why should an audience want for Lois not to be with Richard but with Superman instead? Singer expects his audience to root for Lois and Superman because of their iconic status instead of showing us something tangible between them to build on. Their constant flirting paints Lois as a confused woman who settled for the sake of her child, taints Superman as a guy who despite all his heroics is really out for himself, and leads me to wonder if the next Superman movie will begin with Superman helping Lois tell her son who his real father is. Never mind that Lois’ son, Jason kills a bad guy at one point and no one even thinks to see if the kid might be a little upset or if he understands the severity of what he’s done. That’s a whole other level of irresponsibility that I don’t have time for.

Superman is everything that everyone wishes they could be. He changes the world; he saves people’s lives; he is indestructible and inherently good without having to try. What Singer forgets more than anything is that he is also Clark Kent. Clark is not meant to stand out, he is not meant to save the world. However, he does exist. In SUPERMAN RETURNS, Clark is more the myth that Superman is. At no point, do we see any aspect of Clark, the real-life ego of this superhero, manifest himself in Superman. Superman embodies the best of what we all can be but if he is entirely disconnected from the person he really is, then he is not a better version of himself but rather an entirely different version that is trying to be someone he’s not.

CARS

Written and Directed by
John Lasseter and Joe Ranft

The crowd is uproarious. The stadium is practically shaking. Two checkered flags are waved and they’re off … to a sad and unfortunately slow start. I say “unfortunate” because I am speaking of Pixar Animation Studio’s seventh feature, CARS, and the Pixar name usually ensures sophistication, wit and insight in addition to awe-inspiring, revolutionary animation. Further to that, it usually means a darn good time but CARS drags its wheels, leading me to think Pixar might be due for a good tune-up. The problem is not with the quality of the animation, which bursts out straight away in the opening sequence. We are introduced to Lightning McQueen (voiced by the ever laid back, Owen Wilson), a spunky red sports car with a lot of scattered energy to burn and not enough experience or patience to see things through to the finish. He cruises past the rest of his competitors as he races for the Piston Cup, the highest achievement in race-car driving. The arena lights blare down on to the track and into our eyes as the cheers from the stands erupt to deafening new heights. Everything is as it should be but for one jarring detail. The patrons that fill the stands are other cars. Yes, people go to watch other people race against each other but this is a world inhabited by nothing but cars. It’s like “Planet of the Cars” and directors John Lasseter and the late Joe Ranft do very little to ground this reality. And yes, it’s an animated film but I couldn’t get past wondering how the cars managed to build the stadium and all the roads leading up to in the first place.

While on his way to another race in another town, Lightning gets lost and ends up arrested, or in this case impounded, in a middle-of-nowhere town after accidentally tearing up their road. He is sentenced to repairing the road before he can leave. Here he meets an expectedly colourful group of cars that run through a gamut of stereotypes, from the hippie minibus to the military standard hard-ass to the pimp-my-ride 59 Chevy. I have never seen the folks at Pixar deliver such one-dimensional three-dimensional characters. There is no good reason that these cars would inhabit the same town and so why would we even be there? The only resident that seems like he belongs there is a tow-truck by the name of Mater (as in to-mater). Voiced by Larry the Cable Guy, Mater is the dimwitted naïf who unknowingly bestows wisdom upon others. He is hilarious without realizing and is the most believable element of this film.


The clichés don’t stop at the characters either. The moral foundation of CARS focuses on being in too much of a hurry to get nowhere in particular. Upon being forced to slow down, Lightning learns that there is more to life than winning races and scoring cool sponsorships. When you aren’t speeding down the highway, you can see the cars around you and maybe even become their friend or fall in love. Lightning brings some much needed life to this dreary waste of a town and the inhabitants show him a thing or two about loyalty and the simpler pleasures that come from standing still. A good chunk of this lesson comes from Lightning’s love interest, Sally (a coy Bonnie Hunt), a car who studied law and climbed the corporate ladder before she realized she had no idea who she was. Ordinarily, I would find these themes engaging but cars are built for speed, not for taking the time to smell the motor oil.

The beauty of a Pixar film is best exhibited in their 1998 offering, A BUG’S LIFE. The ants and circus bugs that make up the majority of the characters have personality that more than makes up for the lack of time to develop them all. More importantly, the bug world is believable because it co-exists with a human world, bringing light to a universe that we ignorant humans don’t even know is right beneath our feet. Even the entirely unreal monsters of MONSTERS INC have doorways that lead to an earthly plain. CARS had an inherently huge obstacle to get past from the start line but instead of pushing harder, Lasseter and Ranft left CARS on cruise control. The result is more a casual Sunday drive then a high speed race – enjoyable and pleasant but lacking purpose and drive.

A PRAIRIE HOME COMPANION

Written by Garrison Keillor
Directed by Robert Altman

Real life American radio show, A PRAIRIE HOME COMPANION, becomes fictional fodder in director, Robert Altman’s film of the same name. After 32 years on the air, the show has not changed a bit. Host, Garrison Keillor (played by Keillor himself) broadcasts live from a Minnesota theatre in front of a loyal audience. Various acts perform songs, ranging in message from spiritual to romantic to borderline naughty while messages from sponsors are interspersed throughout. Gracing the stage in song are colorful, quirky (read Altman-esque) characters played by a gamut of folk from Meryl Streep to Lily Tomlin to Woody Harrelson to John C. Reilly. It doesn’t stop there either. The cast continues to round out with the likes of Kevin Kline, Virginia Madsen, Tommy Lee Jones and little Lindsay Lohan. And those are just the A-listers. Nearly the entire story takes place over the course of the show’s final broadcast, practically shutting out any possibility for conventional structure and allowing for character work and integrated back story. Altman has given us a backstage pass to A PRAIRIE HOME COMPANION’s swan song, what ultimately becomes a contemplation on death that is served with soothing melodies that soften the looming sadness and grief.

At 81 years old, director, Robert Altman, admits that mortality is in his thoughts and it is certainly running rampant through the wings and dressing rooms of this homely theatre. The death of the comforting show opens the door to conversations about corporations crushing simple people and sensitive souls as well as the neighborly values sung about in the songs. An aging character dies on this fateful night allowing cast and crew’s reactions to permeate to the surfaces of their faces. Should something be said in his honour? Should words be said about the demise of the show in its honour? Is death a reason to honour life or is life reason enough? As both host and screenwriter, Keillor seems more in favor of honouring life while it is still with us, choosing to perform each show like it were his last. This makes the last show no more significant than any of the others, at least not just because it is the last one. Death is so acutely prominent on this night that it even takes the form of an angel of death, dressed in a glowing white trench coat. She presides over the duration of the show, visible only intermittently to those around her and not even all of them at that. Her function, as an angel of death, is to take souls to whatever comes next when their time has come. Though her duties for the evening had already been fulfilled, she cannot leave as she is haunted by her own death, which came while listening to A PRAIRIE HOME COMPANION. Even angels cannot fully piece together the puzzle that is the transition from life to death.


As the angel of death, a character billed as Dangerous Woman, Madsen sadly gives one of the film’s weaker performances. Though not entirely her fault as her white over coat is a little too white, too perfect, her stride is more of a glide and her speech is always calm, docile. Together, these approaches come off as more farcical than supernatural. Equally clichéd is Guy Noir, an over glorified security guard played by Kline. His private eye speak seems out of place amidst the rest of the realistically based characters. Luckily, Altman’s strange decisions to have these characters play to such stereotypes did not detract from all the rest. Individually, the rest of the major players are strong but they are stronger still as part of the miniature groupings they belong to. As duo Dusty & Lefty, Harrelson and Reilly play off each other like they’ve been doing it for years. Not surprisingly but still seriously appreciated are Streep and Tomlin as the Johnson sisters, Yolanda and Rhonda. They round out each other’s stories and harmonize like only sisters would. Tomlin even has a hint or irritation in her eyes whenever Streep drifts towards a more whimsical train of thinking. Of course, many an eye is on Lohan to see how she holds up as the third wheel to these two unquestionable talents. And hold up she does as the next generation representer of the Johnson family,
A daughter who sings of death but at least she sings. Some things don’t die; they just evolve.

In true Altman style, all of these different lives converge to create a world unto itself. This world is reinforced by Altman standard elements like lengthy credit sequences, conversations running over others and fluid camera movement crossing from the back stage to the actual stage and from floor to floor. The result is a multi-leveled maze that Altman somehow manages to make sense. Whilst doing so, Altman also sneaks in the film’s greatest irony, that some traditions don’t die but continue to thrive after four decades of filmmaking.

THE BREAK-UP

THE BREAK-UP
Written by Jeremy Garelick and Jay Lavender
Directed by Peyton Reed
Starring Vince Vaughan, Jennifer Aniston and Jon Favreau

Although I try to limit my reading of celebrity gossip rags to while I’m waiting in line at the grocery store, I will admit to being taken in by the plight of frequent cover girl, Jennifer Aniston. She’s the girl next door and the poor thing was left behind by one of the prettiest boys on the planet for one of the prettiest girls on the planet. She locked herself away in her Malibu beach house and spoke to no one but family and former cast mates from "Friends", the TV show that made her into an international star, but whose success is making it very difficult for her to establish herself as a bankable movie star. When THE BREAK-UP began filming in Chicago, the irony of the casting caught on and before long the rumours spread that Aniston and co-star, Vince Vaughan, were getting close. As they have no interest in confirming details of their relationship to the public, the intrigue is still high more than a year later. In that time, countless articles have dropped about the broken girl and the man determined to bring happiness into her life again and each of those articles has made mention of this movie. THE BREAK-UP is the world’s keyhole to peer through for a glimpse of what Jen and Vince are really like.

Of course that’s ridiculous as they are actors playing parts in the movie but neither of these actors stretches themselves much further than their established personas so its pretty darn close. And director, Peyton Reed (BRING IT ON, DOWN WITH LOVE), gives the audience exactly what it has been craving without delay during an opening credit montage of photographs of the happy couple doing nothing but being madly in love. It’s a succession of every photograph the paparazzi wishes it could get hold of. Jen and Vince, who should count themselves very fortunate their names don’t blend well into one defining moniker, play Brooke Meyers and Gary Grubowski, two people who look simply natural and happy photographed playing games with friends or dressed as cows for some costume contest. Not only does this satisfy the bizarre celebrity fascination that inexplicably drew us to the theatre in the first place, it also serves a great function for the film as well. We are now set up to realize what these two are throwing away when they break up in the next scene.

The break-up itself exemplifies what works and what does not about this film. It comes fast and early in the film and it is not pleasant to watch. There are many an angry word said and the condo the couple share stinks of regret, uncertainty and fear once all the doors have been shut. The level of pain reached in this scene is unexpected and atypical for a romantic comedy but commendable for its striving to be realistic. Break-ups are not funny; they hurt and this scene does not pretend otherwise. But are break-ups still happening because of the tired issues these two have? He wants to just come home and have a beer and a minute to himself while she wants him to want to do the dishes. Obviously, there is more to it than that but neither one of them seems to have a clue how to say it and instead of realizing that they’re both not expressing themselves properly, they yell louder so the other can really get it. Not surprisingly, that doesn’t work.

And so the now defunct couple fights for ground and supremacy for the rest of the film. The war that ensues grows out of hand with mixed results. Fighting with witty banter can energize a viewer to take sides and get into it but fighting that pretty much entails nothing more than screaming hurtful things is just awkward and can make the viewer want to leave the room to give them some privacy. And while the laughs do come, they are not always enough to forget that these two never really wanted to break up in the first place. Their antics make it more and more impossible to go back and repair their busted relationship. The hope they will finally learn how to say what they truly need to each other, like the not-so-complicated “I just want us to see each other, be there for each other and not take the other for granted”, falls further away. And before you know it, this romantic comedy has become a romantic tragedy.

AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH

AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH
Directed by Davis Guggenheim
Starring Al Gore

The crowd is hushed in anxious anticipation as the man they wait for makes his way through the maze of the backstage corridors. The fervor builds as the man stops to shake another’s hand, pose for a photograph. We can only see him from behind. We can barely make out who he is. Until, the wait comes to its end. Ladies and gentlemen, the man you’ve all been waiting for, the self-described man who used to be the next president of the United States, Al Gore! And, the crowd explodes in a respectfully enthusiastic show of admiration and reasonable applause.

In AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH, former Vice-President of the United States, Al Gore, plays host to a lecture series audience on the impending impact global warming will have on our planet in his and your potential life time. Although it may sound odd in passing, Gore’s lecture series has been given around the globe, hundreds of times. In the time since he lost the bid for presidency, he has rededicated his life and passion to the subject of global warming and made it his priority to increase the awareness of its importance to people everywhere. Contrary to what one might expect from a lecture given by Gore, for example a long snooze, this particular series is actually thoroughly engaging. Of course, the subject matter itself is compelling enough as Gore walks us through image after time-lapsed image demonstrating a shockingly sparse amount of ice where once there was plenty, and numerous graphs, be them bar or line, showing significant hikes in temperature and carbon dioxide emissions in the Earth’s atmosphere from recent years. No matter the topic, one needs a compelling host to make sure the message hits where it should. The shock of the advanced progression of global warming may end up taking a back seat to the complete personality readjustment of Al Gore as he is charming, witty and sarcastic without being obnoxious and ultimately very comfortable, both with the material and himself. One can’t help but wonder why he didn’t demonstrate this side of himself when running for the presidency in the first place.

One also can’t help but wonder this because filmmaker Davis Guggenheim breaks up Gore’s seminar with allusion to Gore’s past, from his upbringing to the election debacle in the state of Florida in 2000. The goal is to demonstrate how Gore came to be crusading for global warming awareness. Drawing a link between the death of his sister from lung cancer, due to years and years of excessive cigarette smoking and the general population’s ignorance towards the effects of global warming and our need for tragedy to inspire action is one thing. Drawing a link between a near-fatal car accident his son had when he was very young and Gore’s conviction towards the importance of human life makes sense but detracts from the focus of the film. Gore’s motivation or interest in the subject seems almost entirely irrelevant as the film is about the presentation, not the guy giving it. Not only does this filler detract but it also taints. Bringing up America’s decision to ultimately vote George W. Bush into office seems somewhat damning, as if to suggest that global warming is not getting any better because of you, America. You voted for someone who doesn’t care about the environment and therefore disasters like Hurricane Katrina, which the film says was much worse due to the warming of the ocean water it traveled over between Florida and New Orleans, might not have been as bad had you voted in a president that cared about the planet. I’m sure Guggenheim isn’t trying to make such strong accusations but the implication is still made through his editing and the film falls off track occasionally as a result.

AN INCONVENEINT TRUTH is being dubbed the “Must-See” documentary of the summer, picking up where past hits THE MARCH OF THE PENGUINS and FARENHEIT 9/11 have left off. I have a difficult time agreeing with this praise. I do believe it to be must-see but this is because the content is important and the facts need to heard. And albeit an enjoyable experience, the content cannot be all that it is judged upon as it is still a film and it is one that is flawed.

THE DA VINCI CODE

THE DA VINCI CODE
Written by Akiva Goldsman
Directed by Ron Howard
Starring Tom Hanks, Audrey Tautou and Ian McKellen

Writer's Note: I don't bother masking the conspiracy theory at the root of this film. Read at your own risk.

Ordinarily, I would think it grossly unfair to criticize a work directly regarding its translation from book to film. The literary medium offers its readers the opportunity to imagine the events unfolding any way they would like while the cinematic medium does all the imagining for you. In the case of Ron Howard’s adaptation of author Dan Brown’s international phenomenon, THE DA VINCI CODE, there isn’t much imagination happening on the filmmaker’s part though. Avoiding comparison here would actually be the great injustice as the immense anticipation that preceded the release of this film was all to do with the ultra-wide popularity of the book. Brown’s novel is easily digested. It’s lead characters, Robert Langdon and Sophie Neveu, are being chased by numerous parties throughout lavish and romantic European settings. The chase and threat of capture keeps people turning the pages and the international flavour makes people feel as if in the presence of culture. For likely many others, and myself, these were the least intriguing elements of the book. What kept me coming back and barreling through hundreds of pages at a time was the book’s unapologetic and relentless blasphemy against the Christian faith. Brown immerses the viewer amidst characters and settings that exist to varying degrees in real life, thus blurring the lines between fiction and non. Somewhere in between the facts and the fabrications, Brown drops his theoretical bomb – that the ever-elusive Holy Grail, the cup of Jesus Christ, is in fact not a cup at all but rather a person, a woman. The woman in question is the infamous Mary Magdalene and the chalice is her womb, the carrier of the bloodline of Jesus Christ. Yes, you heard right, folks! Jesus got it on with the prostitute and she went on to have his child and their descendants are still here on earth today. I am not for attacks on Christians without purpose but this is not an attack so much as an alternate theory to the foundation their shaky religion rests upon.

I can understand why the Vatican is concerned about the impact this film could have. If you forget for a second, it’s easy to get sucked into all this lore and accept it as fact or at least as potentially true. That being said, it is borderline insulting of the Vatican to presume the filmgoing public is not intelligent enough to know the difference between history and plain story. Their concern is not for the entire filmgoing public though, it is more so for the middle of the road viewer who just passively absorbs images without thinking. When I think of these filmgoers, I think of the ideal Ron Howard fan. Howard doesn’t make bad movies (OK, HOW THE GRINCH STOLE CHRISTMAS was bad) but he also doesn’t make spectacular movies (and no, I don’t have an example to refute that). THE DA VINCI CODE has all the elements one would expect from a large-scale Howard production, from big names to big locations. But what it attempts to mask with size is not a lack of substance but rather a lack of control over that substance. Howard coaxes performances from the cast that are inconsistent and hollow. As Langdon, Tom Hanks is sensible, curious and introspective. Ian McKellan plays Leigh Teabing, a Holy Grail expert as playful and cheeky. On the other hand, the usually deep Alfred Molina is farcical and Audrey Tautou looks lost and confused as Neveu; at times she barely seems to know where to stand.

One of the book’s major criticisms, aside from it relying too heavily on conspiracy theories and barely bothering with style, is that it reads like a high-spirited Hollywood blockbuster. Ironically, Howard’s film interpretation plays out nothing like one. It is tiring at times and stale at others. The hackneyed script by frequent Howard collaborator, Akiva Goldsman, cuts out numerous Grail factoids from the book that lend to the theory’s credibility,  but yet still manages to get frequently bogged down in Grail history throughout the film. The result is slowed pacing during scenes that are meant to be suspenseful. Lengthy background explanations take place during car chases and moments when killers are waiting to attack in the next room, but the danger never presents itself until the explaining is all done (leading me to wonder if perhaps the attacker took a bathroom break). With the action forced to wait its turn, the viewer feels the flaws and loses their patience. Howard has taken a book that seemed to have been written with a film deal in mind and made a mess of the already carefully laid plans. As cheap as it is to say this, I must. You’re better off reading the book.

THE NOTORIOUS BETTIE PAGE

THE NOTORIOUS BETTIE PAGE
Written by Mary Harron and Guinevere Turner
Directed by Mary Harron
Starring Gretchen Mol, Lili Taylor and David Strathairn

How do you define a person who has always been between two worlds, one of presumed sin and one of supposed redemption? Especially when that person eventually succumbed to a split personality disorder in her latter years, as if to demonstrate her own point. If you’re director Mary Harron, you don’t shy away from showing the push/pull nature of THE NOTORIOUS BETTIE PAGE. You allow the character to drift back and forth between the healing forgiveness of the power of God and the church and the seductive illusion of control and dominance afforded to Page during her years as a pinup model. By doing so, audiences are offered a complex character that is propelled forward by a desire to leave her difficult past with a naïve enjoyment in others’ lust for her, and a struggle to reconcile her image in the eyes of God. Come the right time, it will no longer matter how many eyes are on her because there is only one pair that counts.

Shot mostly in black and white (with some unnecessary bursts of colour), THE NOTORIOUS BETTIE PAGE is at times a light, humourous comedy, making the film an enjoyable experience and also one that pokes fun at how seriously people believe in the corruption of pornography. But the delicate hand of the director is more palpably felt during Page’s times of despair. Harron is a sensitive, considerate director who does not throw Page’s numerous and devastating blows of abuse in the face of her viewer. Instead, she allows the surprisingly effective Gretchen Mol, who plays the title role, the chance to hammer the pain of her character into the viewer with fear in her eyes, exhaustion in her cries and shame on her skin. Whereas most directors, perhaps most male directors, would find it essential to show the heroine in painful positions in order to draw a link between the kinds of atrocities that were put upon her and where her life took her, Harron has too much compassion for her character, her actress and her audience. From fragility, Page learns to trust people again and as more and more photographers fall in love with her image, the more she falls in love with their admiration and the control she has over the gaze. By the time her poses cross over into the realm of soft-core S&M, she has found a way to combine her need to be respected with the objectification she has been accustomed to her whole life.

Mary Harron’s Bettie Page is a woman who yearns for control over her life and destiny, yet ultimately is always being told where to stand, how to smile and what to wear. When she finally realizes that none of her choices have been her own, she chooses to embrace God and preach his word to those who will listen. The true sadness behind this most important decision is that she is still letting someone else guide her blindly; she just has more faith that His direction will be better for her soul.

UNITED 93

UNITED 93
Written and Directed by Paul Greengrass
Starring Cheyenne Jackson and Olivia Thirlby

It was a morning that started like every other but ended unlike any other. While some made their way to work, others made their way to their couch, both with coffee in hand. Others still scurried about the Newark airport, carrying the same coffees and carrying on about everything and nothing on their cell phones. Everyone was so busy pretending their lives were so important, that their problems were so serious, that it mattered whether or not you got CC’d on that memo, that they didn’t see it coming. Amidst the windstorm of excess, greed and selfishness, a hatred had been brewing and was about to boil over. Paul Greengrass’ UNITED 93 tries to pinpoint exactly when that happened by taking the fateful morning of September 11, 2001, and placing it under a microscope. The experiment’s results are intense, emotional and life affirming. And with a few years worth of distance between that morning and now, we can look back and begin to ask why instead of just how.

It must have been a daunting task to write this film and then find the bravery to make it. Greengrass must have known how hesitant people would be to see this film and how disturbing it would be for those who did. He must have also known the risks he could run by sensationalizing the hijackings or trivializing the last moments of the real lives his actors were reenacting. Why else would he choose to cast no household name actors? Why would he choose to keep the actors cast to portray the four terrorists, who violently took over United Airlines Flight 93 with the goal of flying it directly into the White House, separate from the actors portraying the passengers or flight crew throughout shooting? Why else would he have spoken extensively with the victims families to perfect details like what they were wearing that day or what they may have been listening to on their walkman? He must have wanted to be as true to reality as possible, to respect and honour the hardship and tragedy the passengers on Flight 93 endured, as well as the devastating impact the combined day’s events had on the country as a whole. By not casting easily recognizable actors, the average viewer has an simpler time connecting with the average looking face on the screen. By keeping his actors separate during the shoot and it’s off hours, Greengrass set out to reinforce the distance between the groups and make the alienation of the terrorists palpable. And finally, by paying attention to character details, he exhibits a strong respect for the dead and deep sympathy for the bereaved. And though we may learn very little about the people on board, the little we do learn is hard enough to deal with as they accept their fates.

UNITED 93 is a tribute to the pain and sorrow that engulfed that particular Tuesday. Greengrass has crafted a unique interaction that transports the viewer back to that day, to that headspace and proceeds to offer a healing of the mind and soul that can only come by facing the darkness you’ve ran from. He does not presume what might have been going through the terrorists' minds while they executed their attack, choosing instead to simply show them as determined but scared, like any human being would be. He does not claim to know why they attacked the United States, but merely shows them as lost amidst an inundation of consumerism and meaninglessness, allowing for the viewers to speculate and ultimately decide for themselves. He does not insinuate that the American government took too long to acknowledge what was happening and react appropriately. Instead he shows the men and women of the army and traffic control as always one step behind, yet with an air of forgiveness because who wouldn’t be in that situation? And perhaps most importantly, when it comes time to take back the control of Flight 93, Greengrass does not have the passengers fight back in the name of the U.S.A.; they fight back because they want to live, because they value life.

Understanding the events of September 11, 2001, took some people contextualizing them as scenes in a movie, because only a good screenwriter could have devised such a sinister and horrifying plot. Thinking of it in terms of a movie, in terms we can perhaps more easily understand, also highlights the anticipation that the credits would soon role, the lights would rise and we could walk out and move on with our normal lives. It has been nearly five years and normalcy has prevailed for the most part. Still, walking out of UNITED 93, I left behind more than just the rolling credits and the rising lights; I left behind some leftover heaviness in my heart I didn’t know I was still carrying.

FRIENDS WITH MONEY

FRIENDS WITH MONEY
Written and Directed by Nicole Holofcener
Starring Jennifer Aniston, Catherine Keener, Frances McDormand and Joan Cusack

Centering stories around the lives of four very different women who happen to be friends for no particular reason other than because the screenwriters say so, is a common television practice. From “Sex and the City” to “Desperate Housewives” to even “The Golden Girls”, four women grow as archetype characters as the years roll on and the series develops. No specific story drives the characters’ progressions, just one scenario after the next that showcases how each personality type handles different circumstances. The formula succeeds as a long running series because the characters go through highs and lows, learn some lessons, struggle with some others. When applied to a feature film, the formula is boxed into a limited frame that ultimately highlights one focus. In the case of Nicole Holofcener’s FRIENDS WITH MONEY, Jennifer Aniston, Catherine Keener, Frances McDormand and Joan Cusack make up a foursome of women who struggle with success, remodeling, finding their calling or finding a worthy cause to donate the extra millions they have lying around. Everything in their lives is difficult and often uncomfortable. Everyone in their lives, including themselves, has issues and problems handling those issues. So when Aniston’s character, Olivia, claims “I’ve got problems,” in the last moments of the films, that’s really all the film amounts to, leaving out some of the causes and not bothering with any solutions.

It seems that every movie released these days starring Jennifer Aniston has the added pressure of successfully establishing her as a movie star. FRIENDS WITH MONEY takes the backdoor approach on this one as it is an indie film. If it doesn’t make a ton of money at the box office, no one ever expected it to. A high profile star does an indie film for credibility. She has done it before with fare like THE OBJECT OF MY AFFECTION and THE GOOD GIRL, but if the indie film doesn’t strike exactly the right chord with the critics then all that hard work is wasted. FRIENDS WITH MONEY will not be the film that gives Aniston the firm ground she seems to be chasing after so intensely. In fact, I’m not even clear why she agreed to do it in the first place. She has clearly proven she has a limited acting range with last year’s DERAILED (Horrid!) and RUMOR HAS IT (Aggravating!) but yet decided to star opposite women who are known for their strong presence and versatility. Cusack exhibits a calm, restrained quality not ordinarily seen in her work, while McDormand and Keener play women with internalized anger that is coming out of them in different fashions without their comprehension. Aniston plays the most lost of the four women and that is only further reinforced when she looks lost acting opposite such experience. She plays a stoner house-cleaner who just looks vacant at all times instead of a paralyzed soul, which is what her character calls for.

Very little is resolved at the end of FRIENDS WITH MONEY and having friends with money hardly seems to play a significant function in the film. Aniston’s Olivia is the only one without and the film focuses on so much more that does not derive from that particular dilemma. On the one hand, it would have been trite to make tired statements like the single girl has it more figured out than all her married friends or the girl with little to no cash is the happiest. On the other hand though, drawing at least one conclusion might have saved this movie from mediocrity.

THANK YOU FOR SMOKING

THANK YOU FOR SMOKING
Written and Directed by Jason Reitman
Starring Aaron Eckhart, Maria Bello and Robert Duvall

Tobacco lobbyist, Nick Naylor, imparts many practical approaches to life’s many problems upon all the people he deals with. He tells people how to see things for a living and knows that they’re listening to him. No one person is perhaps listening to him more than his own son. And though Nick’s confidence might blind him into a false sense of security in life, he is not so far removed as to not know that the molding of his son’s mind is his most important job. Thus, when he tells his son that if you argue correctly then you are never wrong, it is not only the true beauty of argument, but it is also a strong, decisive direction to give your son. In that moment, he is a good father and not one of the most hated faces in America. This dichotomy between person and persona is what makes Nick Naylor real and Aaron Echkart’s portrayal of Naylor, as it is guided along its unexpected journey by director Jason Reitman, is what makes THANK YOU FOR SMOKING a real smart comedy.

Anyone I know who has avoided seeing this film has done so because they didn’t want to see a satirical look at smoking. The shame there is that this film avoids clichés whenever it can and doesn’t bother wasting its or our time positioning Naylor to learn a lesson about tobacco being bad. The lesson Naylor must learn is about pride as his is shaken during the course of the film by a disparaging piece of journalism. When life kicks you to the floor, it does not necessarily mean that everything you knew beforehand was wrong. Naylor had a pretty good idea about how to make life work for him but he stopped believing in himself. And when you can’t convince yourself of something, you certainly can’t convince others. Further to the root of this hilarious film are purpose and drive. Naylor’s biggest criticism from those who know him is pointed at his choice to lobby for big tobacco. It seems an easy place to start but it negates that Naylor is good at what he does. He can argue well for those who no one else would dream to argue for. It therefore becomes an inspiration to push yourself as far as possible when you find what you’re truly good at. And once you’re doing something, you might as well do it as well as you can because at the end of the day, everyone’s got their mortgage to pay for and you can’t come back with nothing. That’s a little approach to life I learned from a smooth-talking guy named Nick Naylor.

Son of director Ivan Reitman, Jason has clearly found what he’s good at. THANK YOU FOR SMOKING is his first full-length film and it is sharp and witty. It has an energy that is infectious and a style that is both cool and hip, much in the way one sees smokers, minus the cancer, yellow teeth and bad breath. From the flashy pop-art of the opening credits shaped into cigarette packages to the usage of split screens, ironic subtitling and video, Reitman crafts a sexy, slick film that could have easily turned any of its viewers on to smoking. However, in perhaps what is Reitman’s most brilliant touch to this film, not one character ever lights up.

V FOR VENDETTA

V FOR VENDETTA
Written by Andy Wachowski and Larry Wachowski
Directed by James McTeigue
Starring Nathalie Portman, Hugo Weaving and Stephen Rea

Evey: I wish I wasn't afraid all the time but I am.

A young lady speaks these words to a man in a mask who has imprisoned her in his home. This time in captivity is the most free she has ever felt. London waits outside these walls, as does her job, her friends and what she calls home. The insides of these walls are lined with art; the room is filled with history, music, colour and life. The mask the man is wearing is a Guy Fawkes mask, in honour of the man who once plotted to blow up the parliament building in London as part of a Catholic plot to overthrow the British government. The man behind the mask, known simply as V, plans to finish what Fawkes started centuries before, and blow up parliament in the name of the British people, so that they can reclaim the freedoms of life they gave up to their government out of fear years before. While the government and media, naturally controlled by the government, proclaim V a terrorist, V sees himself more as an artist. For V, the artist is one who uses lies to tell the truth, while politicians use lies to cover the truth up. The men behind V FOR VENDETTA clearly feel the same, as they make a terrorist into a sympathetic protagonist and draw undeniable lines between the ruling British government of V’s world and the current political relationship of the United States government and its people. As writers, the Wachowski brothers choose to highlight fear as the motivating factor in people’s lives, but go so far as to implicate the government as the major perpetuator of that fear. This is not a fresh accusation but the Wachowski’s go boldly further to accuse the government, fictional or otherwise, of not only maintaining a stronghold on its people through fear, but originating that fear to begin with, subsequently forcing the people to abandon the original motivating factor in their lives, love.

The frightened young lady being held captive by V is Evey (Natalie Portman). Director James McTeigue, longtime protégé of the Wachowski’s, instantly links Evey and V (played by Hugo Weaving) together in the opening sequence of the film by juxtaposing the two characters getting ready for their evening. They are both fixing themselves in the mirror, putting on boots. They both watch the same television news program and both shut it off at the same obnoxious point in the commentator’s monologue. They are both putting on their armour to protect themselves in the night, her from harm, him from human connection, and they both have similar views and ideals. The major difference, she’s going out to visit a colleague and he’s going out to blow up a building. As Evey, Portman is composed and confident. Throughout the course of the film, her character learns to open eyes that have been closed in fear since she was a small child when she witnessed her parents’ abduction by a government task force. With her eyes wide open, she can finally stare fear down and see there is a grander design that she is but a small yet vital part of. Weaving plays the role of V although it may be more appropriate to say the role of V is voiced by Weaving, as we never see him without his mask. Weaving’s delivery is both eloquent and polite making for a poetic and charming terrorist. Together, V and Evey are a delightful couple. McTeigue puts them in very simple and close situations, like sharing a breakfast V prepares for her or cozying up on the couch to watch V’s favorite film, “The Count of Monte Christo”, which Evey enjoys but finds sad as the hero chooses duty over love.

Evey’s quest is in all of us and we all must overcome our fear, as must she. Placing the viewer on par with a terrorist and his apprentice is what makes V FOR VENDETTA so poignant and effective. At a critical moment in Evey’s journey, which can also be ours, she must give herself over to faith and allow herself to be the person she wants to be. Her future self must choose to leave her present self behind her for the present self is too heavily controlled by her past to do what needs to be done to effectuate change. Explosions will ensue and life will be forever changed. It is the change that we cannot fear for we have sacrificed so much of ourselves to that fear. V FOR VENDETTA is dark and bleak. The citizens need deep extremism, shown here in a stylized pairing of bombs and fireworks set to Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture”, to wake them from their complacency. This is where my fears come into play. I fear that we are far too comfortable, far too afraid, and far too apathetic to respond to the call to overthrow those who impede our growth as individuals and as a species. I fear we believe change will come but that it will just happen without any work on our part at all.

V FOR VENDETTA is playful and cheeky. It is exciting and insightful. It can be very wordy but I like wordy. Ultimately, its very root is fearless and that bravery will energize and invigorate the viewer.