This tech diatribe's real power lies in silence

2014's Men Women & Children is one of those films that didn't do well due to ineffective marketing: apparently many casual observers immediately thought "comedy!", yet while Adam Sandler is the first on the cast list, this is decidedly part of his serious oeuvre, not the side that dwells in wackiness and sophomoric nonsense.  If you lean toward more somber films, don't let Sandler's reputation throw you. He's actually very good in three dimensions, ala Punch-Drunk Love or Spanglish, and this could be an acceptable amuse bouche to his better work. Even better, it's not all about him -- he by no means carries the ensemble, but is part of the team, and the rest of the cast is extraordinary together, offering many reasons to see this movie.

So MW&C is no comedy, but more along the lines of The Spectacular Now and A Birder's Guide to Everything, films of the same trend that feature talented teen actors, serious topics and a big helping of familial angst. There has been a long spate of these films over the last decade, giving young actors better opportunities to hone their craft and add quality credits to their reels and resumes.  But this film, while also seriously flawed, is in some ways a cut above its contemporaries, due largely to an impressive array of dazzling performances and to a series of smart choices (presumably) by director Jason Reitman.  The result is a cohesive journey that challenges the senses, as well as our concepts of ethics, morality, connectedness and more simply, the right thing to do. Here's the trailer:



Jennifer Garner, not always a favorite of mine, is quite effective here: tragic and a little creepy, as the mother who so fears for her beautiful teenage daughter that she obsessively tracks and guards her progeny online, on mobile, as well as IRL. On the opposite side of the spectrum is Judy Greer, an erstwhile starlet turned ambitious stage mom, inadvertently (but not entirely guilelessly) guiding her sexy 15-year-old cheerleader daughter down a dangerous cyberpath that seems to lead to stardom.

Sandler and Rosemarie Dewitt (stunning as ever) are a married couple as completely naive about their mutual malaise as they are about their son's porn consumption.  While they attempt to feel alive again by different yet surprisingly similar means, a seemingly typical jock dad (played by the wonderful Dean Norris) is strong and conflicted as he and his son (Ansel Elgort) cope with the departure of his wife for a seemingly blissful new life in California.  Their pain is tangible, as are Norris' heartbreaking efforts to hide it.  Beautiful performances all.

Other stories dwell in the mix, but aren't as prominent, exploring (rather lightly) anorexia, peer pressure, and all sorts of sexual issues. These include some nice moments from a cast of well-selected actors: notably Elena Kampouris as a young girl with an eating disorder, JK Simmons as her father, and Phil LaMarr, who is genuinely committed to helping Elgort's character through a difficult time. While it would have been nice to see LaMarr's character get an actual name in the credits, it's heartening to see "Shrink" portrayed in such a positive light, as school counselors are essential to some students' survival, and all too often maligned onscreen for no real reason.

While the film has low points (as they all do), one of Reitman's remarkable strengths here is in the score, or in many spots, the lack of one.  The way he uses silence and camera work instead of music makes the moving pieced-together soundtrack even more effective.  This contrast mirrors the daily realities of sound in an ever more tuneful world, where the complete absence of sound can be startling, and it is those crystalline moments when we see most clearly into our own souls.

Ode to Tilda: A Swintonian challenge for fall

Tilda Swinton has had one of the most fascinating careers in the business -- there's absolutely nothing average about her. After watching Snowpiercer recently, I was so reminded and inspired by her awesomeness that I've decided to learn more about her diverse body of work.  First, a little personal Swinton history:

Since I first became aware of her with Orlando in 1992 (part of my unabashed years of art house skulking), I unconsciously watch for her, and am always delighted to see her in any role she takes on. Her uncommon beauty is indelible, and most of her films take full advantage, from Conceiving Ada to the Narnia films to The Grand Budapest Hotel.  Even in Michael Clayton, where she plays a relatively normal human rather than an angel or mythical queen, her astonishing pallor, too often mistaken for fragility, turns on those who underestimate such a bitch.

Her interviews reveal, in no uncertain terms, equally astonishing intelligence, and a commitment to character that pays off big in her portrayals.  Perfectly capable of serene loveliness on the red carpet and the catwalk, she is fearless when acting, and seems to have no problem "going ugly", a fear which holds so many other beautiful actresses back.  I have long believed that this is why so many hideous roles seem like award "gimmes", as we tend to see a gorgeous woman transforming herself into her own physical antithesis (e.g. Charlize Theron in Monster) simultaneously so alarming and so mesmerizing that we naturally assume that she must be a better actress than anyone else that year. It's no surprise that this doesn't seem to hold equally true for men -- perhaps we expect them to be monsters underneath the pretty?  But I digress.

So clearly there's great depth here, and like me, you probably haven't worked your way through Swinton's entire body of work.  Therefore, I hereby challenge myself to see as many Tilda Swinton movies as I can get my hands on this fall.  I'll resist the titles I've already enjoyed*, but by the end of 2016, I want to at least have seen the following (except for the first title, listed in no particular order):

• Doctor Strange (opening November 4)
• Love Is the Devil: Study for a Portrait of Francis Bacon
• The Protagonists
• Possible Worlds
• Teknolust
• We Need to Talk About Kevin
• The Deep End
• Julia
• A Bigger Splash
• Only Lovers Left Alive
• I am Love
• Trainwreck  (if I must)

That's about one a week, so that should keep me busy.  Wish me well in tracking them all down, and stay tuned for random notes!

---

*To avoid accusations of bias or neglect, these are the movies from her list that I've already seen over the years, listed here in chronological order of release:

• Aria
• Orlando
• Wittgenstein
• Female Perversions
• Vanilla Sky
• Adaptation
• Thumbsucker
• Constantine
• Broken Flowers
• The Chronicles of Narnia:  The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
• Burn After Reading
• The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
• Moonrise Kingdom
• Snowpiercer
• The Grand Budapest Hotel
• Hail, Caesar!

Shocking confession: Finding my own inner 'Gossip Girl'

I've been working on a project that will take a couple of months to realize, and it involves a lot of busywork -- hours of mindless data entry, migrating data and formatting a new system.  It will all be worth it, as it will revolutionize the business I work for.  But working from home, this kind of work tends to go far more quickly with a little company.

So to my own bewilderment, I found myself working through Gossip Girl on Netflix.  I never watched the show when it was new, and wasn't really interested. But when vapid entertainment can possibly increase productivity, I figured a couple of episodes wouldn't rob my brain of too many IQ points.

But Gossip Girl, while certainly not either great art or even great television, is, at the very least, quite surprising.

The show is alarmingly addictive, with characters more fully realized than expected, and even my feeble inner fashionista is dazzled by the costuming.  This is one very stylish pageant, sporting even of-the-moment directors, with several episodes helmed by erstwhile Brat Packer Andrew McCarthy.

Before I go on about the attributes which have unexpectedly positive, let's get this straight:  I will not be raving on this page about the so-called talents of Blake Lively, who plays Serena, the main character. She's beautiful, and warm, and it's clear that she's no dummy. But her acting is stiff and duo-chromatic (alternating sunny yellow and lethargic blue).  And while she had charm in The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and the buzz is that The Shallows is worthwhile, The Age of Adaline couldn't even be saved by the the likes of modern legend Harrison Ford, or even the very hunky Michiel Huisman.  Blrrrrgh...  (And now I'm consciously avoiding a dive into the horrors of The Green Lantern.  That disaster couldn't possibly have been her fault.)

But other actors on this show have done a creditable job with difficult scenes, lending depth to characters that could have been wafer-thin.  Pretty boy Chace Crawford is better than expected, Connor Paolo's dramatic skills show promise beyond mere likability, and mostly one-note Leighton Meester has her moments of pathos.  Kelly Rutherford is an elegant mama bear with considerable subtext.  But there are two actors who, on their own and in ensemble work, repeatedly make this series worth a look:

Zuzanna Szadkowski, as Blair's maid, Dorota, is (hands-down!) the best part of the show.  As the seasons ensued, the producers seem to have realized the treasure they had in their midst, as they start giving her more to do in later episodes.  She's funny, she's wise, she's irresistible -- very much like her doppelganger, the other McCarthy (starts with M!). Pay attention, H-wood: we need to see more of this woman.

But the award for Most Riveting starts with three little words, eleven letters:  "I'm Chuck Bass." English actor Ed Westwick is more than just husky voice, perma-sneer and swagger.  He's handsome, but other than the jawline that could cut glass, not in a conventional way. His character is the reigning devil of the Upper East, but he has a big heart, a wounded soul and the real relationships Chuck develops with Lily, Eva, Eric and even his dog, Monkey, show a far greater capacity for love and respect than we're led to expect.  Rarely does a TV character, even one as maligned and downtrodden as Chuck, show the realities of real depression and conflict so convincingly.  Westwick has had little chance to show this kind of range elsewhere:  ABC's disastrous Wicked City, in spite of its period fascination and rather gimmicky "edge", seems like a dumbed-down, homicidal version of the same role -- the worst of Chuck, but without the soul, wounded or otherwise. Other roles have been largely in the same Bassian vein, e.g. Margin Call and J. Edgar:  named roles that would work equally well as "Guy Who Looks Good in Suits". There are likely more watchable examples, and we'll be waiting for other offerings that show off his skills, perchance his portrayal of Tybalt in the 2013 Julian Fellowes-penned adaptation of Romeo and Juliet.  There's also the hope that Snatch, the new series currently in production and slated for next year, will take hold and give us something juicy to sink our teeth into. With Rupert Grint and Dougray Scott also attached, there may be very good things to come.

Musical moments in film

Those of us who love films tend to also be more than aware of film scores.  Music is the language of the film's soul, and often becomes a character of its own.  A blog post came across my desk today from a respected classical blogger in Southern California -- Timothy Mangan.

Mangan knows his topic, and dove into the film world today with this brief post:

    Great moments in film music: ‘Once Upon a Time in the West’ (The Duel)

Thanks for the nudge into a great film moment, Mr. Mangan.  Hopefully we'll see more of this from you?

Snowpiercer: Finally watching it three years later

This 2013 film has been on my radar (if the back burner) since it was in theaters, as several people told me it was not only worthy but devastating.  As much as I love advice, one of my basic flaws is that I hate being told what to do.  So I waited three years to see it.  (That's right, don't boss me around!)

And so, I've had Snowpiercer on my Netflix list for ages, and after finally sitting down to watch it today, I'm still on the fence.  This is a major achievement for the filmmakers, as the world they have created and the post-apocalyptic society that unfolds as the film goes on is fascinating, terrifying, and almost hypnotic in its detail.  But in the end, the pacing is uneven, making the film seem like a three-hour slog (when it's actually just over two hours in length).  The characters are strangely flat, while the world they live in is not.  And while so many of the performances are exceptional, the overall result is frustrating.  But let's start with the good stuff:

Tilda Swinton is one of my personal favorites, and here she is eerily believable as Mason, a power-hungry bitch crazed with greed, bloodlust, power, and blind faith in a distant, invisible Wilford. Shivers galore, with or without the teeth.

Chris Evans gets to show some chops:  it's so nice to see him stretch beyond the two-dimensional limits of simple bravery and persistence.  The scenes that ring true are quite laudable. I would love to get into ridiculous detail about the artist, the food, the fish, the red letters, the drugs, the train babies, the aquarium... 

But first, let's offer a few specific shout-outs:

• Alison Pill -- vapid belief, eye-fluttering ecstasy while playing the organ.  Clear intent holding a gun with one hand and her swollen belly with the other. She was an astonishing talent as a very young woman (do see Pieces of April), and she just keeps getting better. 
• Jamie Bell, as Edgar, excellent from beginning to end (as usual).  Every moment rings true.
• Octavia Spencer is always a wonder:  passionate, quirky, full of life and truth.  Here she is courageous, tragic and beautiful, whether she is fighting for her child or caring for others
• Emma Levie as Claude, the yellow bitch.  Ruthless, almost alien, unpredictable, with a voice that sounds remarkably robotic, reminiscent of Siri?
• Ed Harris, with a strangely deep and rather artificial voice.  The final twist, suggesting that Gilliam was a part of the Reich...

In the last third, although it's fascinating to see the different sections of the train and get an idea of how this society has worked for so many years, the characterizations devolve into less interesting stereotypes.  Evans is given little to do other than look alternately fierce/horrified and then hit people, he spends long periods with the same look on his face.  But when a director makes an actor spend such long periods in close-up, and in situations that would leave most people numb, it works somehow.

The film redeems itself by giving him a devastating monologue as he smokes one of the world's last cigarettes, and tells a tale that fills in a few gaps in the story and makes horrifying sense of the society that has been built. The evil genius Wilford fills in the rest later, with plot twist after plot twist, and a keener use of logical justification than I would have anticipated:  for a second there, he was almost eerily persuasive.

There are plenty of things that don't make sense, and were likely explained in the graphic novel: there are two many supply issues that shouldn't have been possible; Wilford complains about the noise, yet his abode in the engine car is eerily quiet; and why were the people in the fire pit car wearing fur coats?

But in spite of these head-scratchers (and I will definitely watch it another time or two to pick up a few more details), this persistently bleak drama is riveting and indelible.