Movie Review: Hal

Hal **** / *****

Directed by: Amy Scott.

 

Hal Ashby had one of the most remarkable decades any filmmaker has ever had in the 1970s – a period of time in which he made seven films, all of which deserve to be seen, and several of which help define the era. And yet, until recently, I don’t think Ashby’s name was often mentioned in the same breath as filmmakers like Robert Altman, Francis Ford Coppola or Martin Scorsese – whose films are often seen as the defining films of that time, or even the likes of Peter Bogdanovich or William Friedkin who, fairly or not, are often seen as figures who had a great run of films in the 1970s, but whose careers kind of stalled after that decade. It would be fair to say the same thing happened to Ashby – who did make a few films in the 1980s, none of which are remembered fondly, and then died in 1988 – when he was only 59. Was it his death that made him overlooked – because he was prevented in speaking about that time in Hollywood that became romanticized at some point in the 1990s? Was it that his films were often quite different from each other, not because he was not an auteur, but because you have to dig deeper to find those signifiers? But while Ashby’s name was hardly ever mentioned alongside the giants of the 1970s – it would be unfair to say his films were ever really forgotten. I only gradually realized that there was a great director that wasn’t often talked about when you start stacking up the films of his I watched.

 

Those seven 1970s films were The Landlord, Harold & Maude, The Last Detail, Shampoo, Bound for Glory, Coming Home and Being There – and while I don’t love all of them, I love most of them (I have never been a huge fan of Harold and Maude – although I have to admit that it is a film that sticks in your mind, and its influence is undeniable). By the time Ashby started directing, he was already an Oscar winner – for editing his good friend Norman Jewison’s In the Heat of the Night – and it was Jewison who handed over the directing reins of The Landlord to Ashby, because he felt Ashby was ready, and knew he really wanted to do it.

 

Amy Scott’s documentary Hal is half a tribute to those films, and half an exploration of the man himself. Ashby had problems with authority his whole life – growing up in Utah (never a Mormon, we hear him say at one point) – who ran away from a wife and child in his late teens, and made his way to Hollywood, where he kind of fell into moviemaking – and then fell in love with it. He was always a great editor – his strength lied in being able to put together the footage he shot in interesting, sometimes unexpected ways (one of the ironies about his 1980s work is that often the studio would take the film from him, and edit it themselves – thus taking away the aspect of filmmaking Ashby was best at).

 

You can argue that the film edges in hagiography at some points – but then again, the film doesn’t shy away from people who would have a legitimate beef with him – like that daughter he essentially abandoned early on (the film doesn’t get into child support issues or anything – but one assumes he did pay). It’s that everyone the film interviews really seemed to love Ashby. To his collaborators, he was a great guy – someone who allowed them to experiment and do their best work. It’s all those studio executives, who never believed in him, that he held in contempt – who probably did hate him. But standing up and swearing to studio executives is the type of thing Hollywood heroes do – and he certainly did, often in writing. This was probably not the smartest thing in the world for him to do – but it works wonders for this documentary, because it gives them a treasure trove of things to read out.

 

The film is also smart about the filmmakers it chooses to interview – it’s not the same talking heads you see in most films talking about old filmmakers. There’s no Scorsese or Bogdanovich. But it’s Alexander Payne, David O. Russell, Lisa Cholodenko, who can tell you how much Ashby’s films meant to them growing up – and how they influenced them.

 

I do think Ashby is getting more and more notice as the years go by – and that run of films is seen as the masterclass in filmmaking it was. My favorite will always be Being There – with Peter Sellers as a simpleton, who becomes a political genius to people for his simple sayings. That’s almost more relevant now than ever. But you cannot go wrong with any of those films. See Hal – and then watch them all.

Movie Review: Lizzie

Lizzie *** / *****

Directed by: Craig William Macneill.

Written by: Bryce Kass.

Starring: Kristen Stewart (Bridget Sullivan), Chloë Sevigny (Lizzie Borden), Kim Dickens (Emma Borden), Fiona Shaw (Abby Borden), Denis O'Hare (John Morse), Jeff Perry (Andrew Jennings), Jamey Sheridan (Andrew Borden), Tara Ochs (Susan Gilbert), Jay Huguley (William Henry Moody), Tom Thon (Prof. Wood), Daniel Wachs (Dr. Bowen), Roscoe Sandlin (Judge Blaisdell).

 

There have been many versions of Lizzie Borden’s story told before, probably because the case in many ways was a forerunner of the tabloid fascination with murder that continues to this day in America, and because the story itself is so malleable that you make whatever kind of film you want to out of it. Craig William Macneill’s Lizzie is the latest version, and it’s an odd little film. The material could very easily go over-the-top – this version has pigeon murder, lesbian love affairs, fainting spells and, when the infamous murders arrive, the film doesn’t spare the blood – and are committed when naked women. And yet, Macneill and company have made a film that feels restrained – muted in tone, presenting over-the-top material, in an understated fashion. I’m not sure it all quite works, but it’s an interesting film to watch.

 

Lizzie here is played by Chloe Sevigny – one of the great risk taking actresses of her generation. Her Lizzie is modern in many ways – she openly defies her father (Jamey Sheridan) and hates her stepmother (Fiona Shaw), who she thinks is a gold digger, she shows no interest in getting a husband, and can be quick witted when challenged in public by other members of her upper class. The problem, of course, is this is still 1892 – and as a woman, she has no rights or privileges herself, and has expectations put upon her. She worries her stepmother will get all the money, or that her uncle John (Denis O’Hare) will when her father dies. And she really, truly does hate her father – who is practically a mustache twirling villain here – as he kills all her pigeons (and then serves them for dinner) when she defies him. The thing that pushes her over-the-edge though is the arrival of Bridget (Kristen Stewart) – the family’s new maid. The two have an instant connection with each other – and that connection goes from furtive glances, to much more. When Lizzie discovers that her father has been raping Bridget repeatedly – and Bridget powerless to stop it (if she leaves, he will make it impossible to get a new job) – the pair of them hatch their plan, although Lizzie is more committed than Bridget.

 

Although in terms of story, the murders happen around the half way point in the story, we don’t actually see them until right near the end. There have been many theories over the years of just what happened and who did it – although that part seems pretty obvious. The more interesting question is the why Lizzie did it. This movie stacks the deck so far in Lizzie’s favor it almost seems reasonable that she would hack two people to death with an axe. Her father and stepmother are horrible – they are given no nuance, no inner life to speak of – and her uncle isn’t much better. Her sister (Kim Dickens) is barely in the film at all (a waste of a very talented actress). The “solution” to the murder here isn’t really based on fact – but makes sense in the context of the movie.

 

The heart of the movie is the chemistry between Sevigny and Stewart, which really is great. Stewart continues to be one of the best actresses around – she does so much, while seemingly doing so little. She is quiet here – she has an Irish accent (but fortunately, doesn’t sound like she’s going to start pitching Lucky Charms). This is the perfect kind of role for her – as she has to behave one way, and express emotions in another – and she pulls it off. Sevigny makes some bigger choices to be sure as Lizzie - she has expressed some disappointment in the movie – she wanted it to be bigger and more rousing – and that shows – but they work in context. Perhaps the movie Sevigny wanted this to be would have been better – perhaps a miniseries, which she initially envisioned, would have been even better than that (it feels like it could be a longer piece). What we have is a film that in some ways seems to be at war with itself – and that, in its own right, is very interesting.

Movie Review: Colette

Colette ** / *****

Directed by: Wash Westmoreland.

Written by: Richard Glatzer & Wash Westmoreland & Rebecca Lenkiewicz.

Starring: Keira Knightley (Colette), Dominic West (Willy), Fiona Shaw (Sido), Denise Gough (Missy), Eleanor Tomlinson (Georgie Raoul-Duval), Aiysha Hart (Polaire), Dickie Beau (Wague), Al Weaver (Schwob), Robert Pugh (Jules), Ray Panthaki (Veber), Caroline Boulton (Flossy), Shannon Tarbet (Meg), Rebecca Root (Rachilde), Arabella Weir (Mme De Caillavet).

 

Ever since seeing Colette, I’ve been trying to figure out why the film didn’t work for me. The story of Colette, a writer in late 19^th and early 20^th Century is France is fascinating, as it involves intrigue and betrayal and love and lust and controversy. The film is handsomely produced – with gorgeous costumes and art direction. I’ve always loved Keira Knightley – and she looks stunning in this film, and her performance conjures up the right mixture of lust and rage. And yet the whole thing feels rather lifeless.

 

The story is about Colette (Knightley), who was a young girl from the French countryside, who meets and marries Willy (Dominic West), a writer, and something of a con artist and libertine, who brings her to Paris. He writes under that name – Willy – and he needs another book quick. So, Colette writes the first of four novels in the Claudine series – and it becomes a smash hit. Of course, he gets the credit – and the money – and he continues to press her to write more and more and more – sometimes even locking her in her room and forcing the novels to come. As the novels keep coming, the money keeps coming – but Colette also starts to see Willy for what he really is. And she has other ambitions – on the stage – and other interests off them, particularly in women.

 

All of this should make for a fascinating and entertaining costume drama. None of that stuffy stuff you usually see in English productions of old time-y writers, but something brimming with passion and anger and lust. And yet, somehow, it doesn’t. Perhaps it is the direction of Wash Westmoreland – who along with his late husband Richard Glatzer, made Still Alice (2014) – the film that finally won Julianne Moore an Oscar. But that film is deadly dull other than Moore’s admittedly great performance. And this film is deadly dull even with Knightley in fine form, and gorgeous costume and art direction. You just never really feel the film. Westmoreland is photographing all this wonderful stuff, but it never really comes alive.

 

All of that is a shame, because the story the movie is based on is fascinating – and you could probably make another three or four films about Colette about the time period after this film ended, and they would be equally fascinating. But in this film, the filmmakers never really found the right way to tell this story.

Movie Review: THe Little Stranger

The Little Stranger *** ½ / *****

Directed by: Lenny Abrahamson.

Written by: Lucinda Coxon based on the novel by Sarah Waters.

Starring: Domhnall Gleeson (Faraday), Ruth Wilson (Caroline Ayres), Will Poulter (Roderick Ayres), Charlotte Rampling (Mrs. Ayres), Josh Dylan (Bland), Kate Phillips (Diana Baker-Hyde), Harry Hadden-Paton (Dr. David Granger), Anna Madeley (Anne Granger), Camilla Arfwedson (Young Mrs. Ayres), Amy Marston (Mrs. Blundell), Lorne MacFadyen (Dr. Calder), Dixie Egerickx (Gillian Baker-Hyde), Alison Pargeter (Maid), Sarah Crowden (Miss Dabney), Liv Hill (Betty), Kathryn O'Reilly (Elizabeth Faraday), Tipper Seifert-Cleveland (Young Susan).

 

Something is wrong with Hundreds Hall – the mansion where the once wealthy Ayres’ family lives. The family isn’t as wealthy as they once were – and the place is crumbling on the inside, even as the family struggles to keep up appearances. But it’s more than that – something in that house is infecting the three surviving members of the Ayres’ family – and anyone else who comes into contact with the house. In an interesting narrative choice, The Little Stranger is not told from within the Ayres family – but from the outside. Dr. Faraday (Domhnall Gleeson) is the narrator of the story – and he’s long been obsessed with Hundreds Hall – since the days his mother used to work there as a maid. He returns when another maid is taken ill – and slowly integrates himself into the family. And that, perhaps, is what hastens everything that happens next.

 

There are three Ayres’ left – the matriarch Mrs. Ayres (Charlotte Rampling), haunted by the death of one of her daughter’s years before, tries to keep an icy, steely exterior. Roderick (Will Poulter) is a scarred WWII veteran, who has seemingly started to go crazy – thinking he smells things in the house. He’s smart enough to want to sell the place – but no one really takes him seriously. Caroline (Ruth Wilson) is the oldest daughter, and really the one trying to keep everything together. Faraday is attracted to her – says he wants to marry her – but both of them are so chilly on the outside, it becomes clear both are after something other than love. Faraday loves that house – and wants to be there always. Caroline wants just the opposite.

 

The Little Stranger is a slow (too slow) burn of a thriller in that it takes a long time for anything much to happen. It’s told from the point of view for Faraday, but he’s so obsessed with his own thoughts, he seems oblivious to what the others in the story want or think – and they aren’t vocal about it to begin with. The film is clearly about class – with Faraday being someone who has worked his up the social ladder, but still doesn’t entirely belong, and the Ayres who belong there because of their standing, but no longer really able to afford it. The people they know look through Faraday – he’s little more than the help, which is what his mother was, and what he doesn’t want to be. It’s an impressive performance by Gleeson, who keeps everything bottled up.

 

The film slowly starts to reveal its mysteries – but even then, not really. It does seem like director Abrahamson is at times more concerned with art direction and atmosphere than anything else. To be fair, he does that amazingly well. Like he did with his last film, Room, he takes a single house and makes it visually haunting – and that hangs over the entire film. When he finally does start to reveal his secrets, he still keeps things close to the vest – right up until the final shot of the film, which explains everything and nothing at the same time.

 

The Little Stranger probably deserved better than it got – it was basically dumped into theaters with no ads in the late summer, and predictably, didn’t find much of an audience. The studio undoubtedly (and to be fair, understandably) didn’t know how to market it. It is a challenging film, and an interesting one. It’s also probably too slow for its own good – and will alienate as many viewers as it in tranches. You probably know which one you are.

Movie Review: Nico, 1988

Nico, 1988 *** ½ / *****

Directed by: Susanna Nicchiarelli.

Written by: Susanna Nicchiarelli.

Starring: Trine Dyrholm (Christa Päffgen a.k.a Nico), John Gordon Sinclair (Richard), Anamaria Marinca (Sylvia), Sandor Funtek (Ari), Thomas Trabacchi (Domenico), Karina Fernandez (Laura), Calvin Demba (Alex), Francesco Colella (Francesco).

 

“My life began after I left the Velvet Underground” – Christa Päffgen aka Nico tells an interviewer at one point in the unconventional biopic Nico, 1988. She wants to talk about her own music – the music she is making now – but throughout the film, we will see her during various interviews, and all anyone wants to talk about is her past. She had an interesting past in the 1960s after all – captured, in snippets of old footage, that are like glimpses of memory – working for directors like Fellini or Andy Warhol, and of course, being in The Velvet Underground – where she sang three songs - the rest of the time, she stood in the background and played tambourine – it was like when she was a model she says – she was there for her image. But all of that was 20 years in the past by this point, and she no longer really cares about it. She has her own music now. But no one asks about that.

 

Susanna Nicchiarelli’s Nico, 1988 (which is an odd title for a movie that spends an hour in 1986, about five minutes in 1987 and 25 minutes in 1988) is a film that is interested in everything those interviewers were not. Other than those snippets of footage, we don’t see anything from Nico when she was in the 1960s – and considered one of the most beautiful women in the world. She’s older now, a junkie, loves to eat and drink and doesn’t much care what anyone thinks of her. Her one regret is her relationship with her son – Ari – who was raised by his grandparents, because Nico wasn’t really that responsible at the time. The rest of what people say or think about her rolls off her back – the subject of her son stings – and are the moments where she seems to have nothing to say.

 

At the heart of the movie is a fine performance by Trine Dyrholm as Nico – who is able to nail Nico’s trademark low vocal on a number of her songs (and songs by other she will sing) over the course of this movie. But she gets to something deeper and darker here as well. Nico may not care what people think of her – may not care that her record sales have never been great (“I am very selective about my audience” – she tells an interviewer at one point) – but underneath that exterior, part of her does. It has to be frustrating to know that the reason you’re being interviewed – the reason she can support a tour, and record her albums – all has to do with a time in your life you no longer want to talk about.

 

The problem with the movie is that other than Nico, and Dyrholm’s performance, there isn’t much else here. The visual look of the film is quite good, but the rest of the characters are paper thin. Like Nico, many of them are junkies – although she handles it better than they do. Her relationship with her son is the emotional heart of the film, but doesn’t really work in that regard – he doesn’t appear until fairly late in the film, and he never really becomes a character in his own right.

 

Still, I appreciate this approach to the material. Most musical biopics (like, say Bohemian Rhapsody), play like basically a greatest hits collection – unconcerned with what happens later. Nico, 1988 is about what happens when that part of your life has faded. It’s a tragic film – but not in the way you may suspect it will be.

Movie Review: The World is Yours

The World Is Yours *** ½ / *****

Directed by: Romain Gavras.

Written by: Karim Boukercha and Noé Debré and Romain Gavras.

Starring: Karim Leklou (Farès), Isabelle Adjani (Danny), Vincent Cassel (Henri), Oulaya Amamra (Lamya), François Damiens (René), Philippe Katerine (Vincent, l'avocat), Sam Spruell (Bruce), Gabby Rose (Brittany), Sofian Khammes (Poutine), Mounir Amamra (Mohamed 1), Mahamadou Sangaré (Mohamed 2).

 

There was a time – probably the late 1990s – when a crime movie as stylish and fun as The World is Yours would have been a big art house hit with audiences. Nowadays, it ends up on Netflix, where most people will ignore it. But you shouldn’t ignore The World is Yours because it is so much fun – and also, because there is a little bit underneath all of that fun, all of that style, that makes the film a little different. This is the opposite of a nihilistic crime movie. What does that make it – and idealistic crime movie? Sure, why not?

 

The story centers on Fares (Karim Leklou), who is a low level criminal, working as a middle man for an idiot drug dealer in France. His entire life has been involved in crime – his mother, Danny (Isabelle Adjani) is a con artist and thief, who will use anyone – including her son – in her schemes if it will work (she loves him though – at least as much as she can). Fares doesn’t want to be a criminal his whole life though. He has modest dreams of selling frozen treats – and just needs some money to get started. He pretty much had it all – and then his mother lost it. Now, in order to get what he wants, he has to pull off a drug deal in Spain. He assembles his team – his father figure/right hand man/conspiracy theorist Henri (Vincent Cassel), the object of his affection, and potential femme fatale Lamya (Oulaya Amamra) and two idiots both named Mohamed head to Spain in order to buy drugs from a Scottish drug dealer (Sam Spruell) – but of course, everything goes wrong and they end up kidnapping his daughter (Gabby Rose) instead. There are more characters and subplots to the movie – but if I tried to diagram them all, we’d be here all day (plus, I’m not sure I could – the plot is needlessly complex by design, to keep your heading spinning – but none of it matters all that much).

 

Fares is a strange character to have at the center of a crime movie like this. He’s sweet and doughy and trusting – and really, he doesn’t have a bad bone in his body. He shouldn’t be a criminal, because as he says, he doesn’t want to fuck anyone over. He’s in a world where everyone is constantly looking to fuck everyone else over – including him. The interesting thing about his plan is that he will do his best to make sure that he fucks over the least amount of people he can – and only those who really deserve it. For the most part, people get what they want – and the one guy he doesn’t is an asshole, so who cares about him.

 

The film really is about the different alliances Fares has to build – across political, racial, religious and gender lines that make up modern Europe. The film never hits you over the head with any of them – there isn’t a single discussion about any of it – but it’s there in the background throughout the film, and at times is used as a joke (a boat raid is only successful because the guys on the boat being raided think the two Mohamed’s are migrants for example “from Spain?” the less stupid of the two asks – but by then it’s too late.

 

The style of the film recalls early Guy Ritchie – there is a lot of chaotic action throughout, and throwaway gags and moments (like the moment when we see each Mohamed’s vision of the future). But director Romain Gavras has more heart than Ritchie ever did. He pauses to allow some more tender moments – even at the strangest times. There is also more genuine, sweet natured humor here than we expect.

 

No, The World is Yours is in no way realistic – nor is it pretending to be. The ending of the film in particular is straight up fantasy. But it’s a fantasy you want to believe in – so you do. And it comes at the end of a wildly entertaining film.

Movie Review: Happy as Lazzaro

Happy as Lazzaro **** / *****

Directed by: Alice Rohrwacher.

Written by: Alice Rohrwacher.

Starring: Adriano Tardiolo (Lazzaro), Agnese Graziani (Antonia bambina), Luca Chikovani (Tancredi bambino), Alba Rohrwacher (Antonia), Sergi López (Ultimo), Natalino Balasso (Nicola), Tommaso Ragno (Tancredi adulto), Nicoletta Braschi (Marchesa Alfonsina De Luna), Daria Pascal Attolini (Maria Grazia adulta), Maddalena Baiocco (Stefania bambina), Giulia Caccavello (Teresa giovane), Annunziata Capretto (Natalina anziana), Davide Denci (Appuntato), Alessandro Genovesi (Maresciallo), Carlo Massimino (Pippo), Edoardo Montalto (Pippo bambino), Gala Othero Winter (Stefania), Iris Pulvano (Natalina adulta), Ettore Scarpa (Maresciallo), Pasqualina Scuncia (Suora), Carlo Tarmati (Carletto).

 

Alice Rohrwacher’s Happy as Lazzaro is one of those tricky films that as soon as it ends, you want to go back to the start and watch it again – trying to unpack its layers, and just what exactly it does (in this way, while it’s a shame it isn’t much of a theatrical release, it’s okay that it’s on Netflix, so you can do just that – as I did). The film starts as a throwback of sorts to the Italian films of a few decades ago (a little Bertolucci or Taviani or Tornatore for example), but gradually becomes something wholly unique and different. It’s a strange, confounding film in many ways – and I am still not sure if it all works, but it’s such a fascinating film to watch, you almost don’t care.

 

The film begins in the kind of situation that used to be common in Italian films – a portrait of sharecroppers living on the vast estate of the landowner. In this case, that landowner is the Queen of Cigarettes – who along with her family work their workers to the bone, and keep them in debt in a way that they will never be able to get out of. And yet, while this seems like a scene out of, say Bertolucci’s 1900, it’s clear that this is much more recent than that – as Tancredi – the spoiled teenage son of the landowners, is using a flip phone for example. But this sort of thing has been illegal for years now, isn’t it? Are these people essentially slaves, cut off from society, and not knowing precisely what the world off of this plantation are? Yes, it turns out.

 

One among the workers is Lazzaro (Adrianao Tardiolo) is kind, innocent, sweet and more than a little blank. If the landowners are exploiting all the workers, then the workers themselves are exploiting Lazzaro in the same way – taking advantage of his limited knowledge, and sweet demeanor – but caring little for him. Even when he gets sick, no one really wants to help him out. This also allows Tancredi to take advantage of Lazzaro as well – using him to stage his own kidnapping, although he isn’t really prepared for what would happen when no one in his family really wants him back – or what happens when he calls the police himself to report himself missing – and the whole house of cards comes tumbling down.

 

All of this is simply the halfway point in the film, which takes a more surreal twist at this point – we flash forward years into the future, and yet not everyone has aged (and those who have aged, don’t seem to have aged at the same rate). Lazzaro is the constant here – the same guy, facing the same exploitation wherever he happens to be. The idyllic looking plantation, which hide the horrors of exploitation, has been traded for a bleaker, grayer cityscape this time around. But the same level of poverty exists – and those who Lazzaro once knew aren’t much better off being free than they ever were, and aren’t above exploiting him. Those who were once on top have been brought low – but they cannot see why that may be, and think of themselves as victims who have lost something.

 

The film heads towards its inevitable conclusion – things like never were never going to end well – and the result is more than a little heavy handed, but also emotional impactful. The acting in the film is excellent – probably best of all is the pair of actresses who play Antonia – one of the few people who are kind to Lazzaro (played in the first segment by Agnese Graziani, and the second by Alba Rohrwacher – the directors sister). As Lazzaro, Adriana Tardiolo has a fascinating role. He’s not a Holy fool or a simpleton – he isn’t Peter Sellers in Being There for instance – but rather he’s just a simple and decent person, a bit slow, but decent. And this is a world in being decent doesn’t count for very much.