Movie Review: Beyond the Lights

Beyond the Lights
Directed by: Gina Prince-Bythewood.
Written by: Gina Prince-Bythewood.
Starring: Gugu Mbatha-Raw (Noni), Nate Parker (Kaz), Minnie Driver (Macy Jean), Richard Colson Baker (Kid Culprit), Danny Glover (Captain Nicol), Darryl Stephens (Quentin), Elaine Tan (April), Isaac Keys (Jonas), Tyler Christopher (Liam King), Benito Martinez (Jesse Soria), Aisha Hinds (J Stanley), India Jean-Jacques (Noni - age 10).

There is hardly a music business, melodrama cliché that Gina Prince-Blythewood’s Beyond the Lights does not use during its runtime. It is a film about a self-destructive famous singer named Noni (the stunningly beautiful Gugu Mbatha-Raw), who meets and falls in love with a normal guy – a cop named Kaz (Nate Parker), who saves her life by thwarting her suicide attempt – and as a result gets back to who she really is. You could have made this basic movie way back in the 1920s as a silent film. Yet, sometimes clichés are clichés because the work – especially when they are exploited by a writer-director as talented as Prince-Blythewood, and performed by two actors as appealing as Mbatha-Raw and Parker. Yes, the movie indulges in clichés – I haven’t even mentioned Minnie Driver’s domineering mother yet – but it uses those clichés to make one hell of an entertaining movie – that goes deeper than the initial premise would suggest.

The film opens – after a brief scene of our star as a child - with a music video – Kid Culprit featuring Noni on Masterpiece. The song itself is catchy as hell, the video dripping with sexuality, as Noni writhes around in clothes that are barely there, and has sex with the camera – and Kid Culprit – with her eyes. I have no trouble believing that this could be a legitimate hit song, and video. The video instantly establishes the world the movie is taking place in – and just exactly who Noni is (basically a performer not unlike Rihanna). We learn shortly after that her debut album hasn’t even dropped yet, and she’s already a star because of her collaborations with Kid Culprit – and an award winner. But after that award show, Noni retreats into her hotel room alone. She’s been drinking – and she’s not a drinker – and steps out onto the balcony, with the intention of throwing herself off. That is when Kaz, who has been hired to keep people out of the hotel room – walks in, sees what Noni is doing, and heroically saves Noni’s life. He doesn’t have much respect for Noni – and even less when he is basically forced to lie, and say the whole thing was an accident. But he’s drawn to her anyway – and her to him. And slowly we get to know both of these people, and the pressures they are facing. She loves to sing, but has had her career managed by her mother for maximum exposure – exploiting her sexuality to become more famous, participating in photo-shoots where she is uncomfortable with how much she has to show, singing ridiculously, overtly sexual songs that she knows is bad. But she is a product now – she’s making money, and a lot of people are counting on her – especially her domineering mother, who pushes things farther and father. Kaz has his own issues – he is also being push by a parent, his father (Danny Glover), who thinks Kaz may be the next Barack Obama. His life has been mapped out for him – and he’s about to run for office for the first time. Neither parent likes the burgeoning relationship between the two – Driver because it’s a distraction, and feeds the suicide story, Glove because he knows that Noni is not “first lady” material. But the pair fall in love anyway.

The reason the movie works as well as it does is because of the performances. Parker is fine as Kaz – big, strong, and confident – but still somewhat confused by what he wants in life. It’s another good performance on Parker’s growing resume. But the star is Gugu Mbatha-Raw, who is utterly brilliant as Noni – who starts off looking like another shallow pop star, and slowly starts revealing the pain underneath – and the little girl who still dreams of being a singer – not the one she is, but the one she wanted to be as a child, when she sang Nina Simone’s Blackbird in a singing competition. The opening scene, with a little girl playing Noni, is wonderful. When, later in the film after a transformation, when Noni sings the song again, it’s a showstopper – as great a musical moment as you can find in a movie this year. Mbatha-Raw, who was the star in the rather bland Belle earlier this year (she was far better than the movie though), delivers what should be a star making performance here. It is a great performance.

The movie takes some shortcuts, and has some issues – placing all the blame for Noni’s career on her domineering mother, who for most of the movie is a caricature (it gives her some shadings late in the movie, but it’s not quite enough). And because Mbatha-Raw is such a force in the movie, and takes over, everything involving Kaz’s life without her grinds the movie to the halt when it pops up.  

But overall, Beyond the Lights is a wonderful showbiz melodrama – one that uses its genre to make a terrifically entertaining movie. Prince-Blythewood, who directed the similarly wonderful Love & Basketball all the way back in 2000, has constructed another solid love story. Yes, it’s clichés. But it’s so good it transcends those clichés.

Movie Review: The Strange Little Cat

The Strange Little Cat
Directed by: Ramon Zürcher.
Written by: Ramon Zürcher.
Starring: Leon Alan Beiersdorf (Jonas), Matthias Dittmer (Vater), Lea Draeger (Frau auf Balkon), Monika Hetterle (Großmutter), Mia Kasalo (Clara), Gustav Körner (Nachbarsjunge), Armin Marewski (Schwager), Kathleen Morgeneyer (Hanna), Luk Pfaff (Simon), Jenny Schily (Mutter), Anjorka Strechel (Karin), Sabine Werner (Tante).

The Strange Little Cat feels like the first work of a major director. By itself, it`s an interesting little film – expertly crafted in a series of stationary shots, that observe one long, hectic day in the life of a large German family. It doesn’t do anything particularly profound – I`m not really sure it`s saying anything at all. But it`s so well made, so well-acted – and at 72 minutes doesn’t overstay its welcome – it feels like the type of film a director makes right before he makes his first masterpiece. I don’t know if Ramon Zurcher will do that – but considering that The Strange Little Cat was made as a student film, I think he certainly has the potential to go on to do something great.

The title character is an orange tabby cat, who isn’t really that strange. He walks around the apartment of the German family looking for food, toying with a moth, and basically acting exactly like a cat does. The family itself seems normal – two college age kids are back for some sort of holiday, their much younger sister is cute, but annoying. The mother is stressed from preparing for a large family dinner later in the day. Grandma has started to show signs of senility. An uncle and cousin are there to fix a washing machine. The father kind of fades into the background, and is ignored.

Zurcher has called the film a horror film without the horror – and that makes a certain degree of sense. There is certainly an ominous feeling to the movie – the mother in particular feels like she is holding back a level of hostility that may boil over at some point. She`s passive aggressive with the rest of the family – particularly her husband, who she basically ignores. The college kids have their own problems that they never really verbalize. The younger daughter observes it all – senses something is amiss.

But if anything is going to boil over eventually, it doesn’t on this day. Zurcher eschews any sort of typical plot or character development, and basically just sits back and observes – bringing his characters close to conflict, but never quite getting there. He favors long, unbroken, un-moving shots, which traps its characters in the frame and doesn’t let them out. It is expertly crafted – with the movement in the frame as well thought out as the camera placement.

The Strange Little Cat only runs 72 minutes, and even that may be a little long for a movie that has no plot to speak of. But it works in this case. It isn’t a great movie – but it`s a good one, and it’s one that shows promise for the director. I cannot wait to see what he does next.

Movie Review: Dumb and Dumber To

Dumb and Dumber To
Directed by: Bobby Farrelly & Peter Farrelly.
Written by: Sean Anders & Mike Cerrone & Bobby Farrelly & Peter Farrelly & John Morris & Bennett Yellin.
Starring: Jim Carrey (Lloyd Christmas), Jeff Daniels (Harry Dunne), Rob Riggle (Travis / Captain Lippincott), Laurie Holden (Adele), Rachel Melvin (Penny), Steve Tom (Dr. Pinchelow), Don Lake (Dr. Meldmann), Patricia French (Ms. Sourpuss), Kathleen Turner (Fraida Felcher), Bill Murray (Ice Pick), Tembi Locke (Dr. Walcott).

I re-watched the original Dumb and Dumber for the first time in about 15 years last week, and was rather disappointed in it. Yes, there are still moments in it as funny as any movie the Farrelly brothers have ever made – but when compared to their best work – Kingpin, There`s Something About Mary or even Stuck On You – it doesn’t really hold up all that well. It`s a series of jokes connected by the loosest of plots, some of which work, but many more of them don’t. The long in the making sequel has finally come out, after fans have waited 20 years, and structurally it’s more of the same – a series of jokes, connected by the loosest of plots, that require Lloyd (Jim Carrey) and Harry (Jeff Daniels) to go on a cross country road trip, tailed by people who want them dead to get their hands on something they are carrying, the whole time the two idiots remain oblivious as to what is going on. In a movie like this, it comes down to the individual gags – and how many of them work. Sadly, almost none of the gags in Dumb and Dumber To work. The whole movie stinks of desperation – mainly from the Farrellys who haven’t had a hit in years. Carrey, who is a comedic genius, is trying way too hard to sell his gags, and Daniels barely seems to have committed to playing his moronic character again.

The basic setup for the movie is dumb – of course. Harry needs a kidney transplant, but needs to find a blood relative to donate one to him. When his parents are not a match (you`ll see why if you see the movie), all hope seems to be lost – but then he gets a 23 years old postcard from an old girlfriend (Kathleen Turner) telling him she is pregnant – meaning there is a 22 year old woman out there who could give him an kidney. Lloyd and Harry go on two road trips – first to find where his daughter lives, then another on the other side of the country to deliver a package to her from her genius, adopted father who has sent her to a conference on his behalf, even though she is decidedly not a genius herself.

I find there really isn’t much to say about the movie – anything I do will simply ruin the jokes of the movie, which if anyone out there is unfortunate to watch this film at some point will ruin whatever little pleasure the movie offers. I didn’t expect the plot of the movie to be good – the plot of the original was equally dumb, but the film mainly worked because the gags were funny. The original was made by the Farrelly's when they were still trying establish themselves are top notch comedic filmmakers, and by Carrey when he was still forging a film career. They seemed to be hungry then – and willing to do just about anything to get a laugh. Yet the film, like the best work of the Farrellys career, also had sweetness to it – it didn’t ever really get cruel, and mock its dumb characters, because it found them so lovable. This time around, everyone seems to be overly comfortable. There`s no edge to the film, and the film seems content to simply coast. The result is one of the worst films of the year – one that simply repeats what worked the first time, with far poorer results. Normally, even in really bad Farrelly movies, there are a few moments that made me laugh out loud – this time, I didn’t laugh once.

The Films of Stanley Kubrick: Barry Lyndon (1975)

Barry Lyndon (1975)
Directed by: Stanley Kubrick.
Written by: Stanley Kubrick based on the novel by William Makepeace Thackeray.
Starring: Ryan O'Neal (Barry Lyndon), Marisa Berenson (Lady Honoria Lyndon), Patrick Magee (Chevalier de Balibari), Hardy Krüger (Captain Potzdorf), Steven Berkoff (Lord Ludd), Gay Hamilton (Nora Brady), Marie Kean (Barry's Mother), Diana Körner (Lischen), Murray Melvin (Reverend Samuel Runt), Frank Middlemass (Sir Charles Lyndon), André Morell (Lord Gustavus Adolphus Wendover), Arthur O'Sullivan (Captain Feeny, the Highwayman), Godfrey Quigley (Captain Grogan), Leonard Rossiter (Captain John Quin), Philip Stone (Graham), Leon Vitali (Lord Bullingdon), Michael Hordern (Narrator).

Stanley Kubrick has a reputation of cold detachment in his films – and while that is somewhat overstated in some cases, it is the perfect description for Barry Lyndon. Despite the fact that the film was nominated for seven Oscars – including three for Kubrick for Picture, Director and Screenplay, and winning four others – for Cinematography, Art Direction, Costume Design and Score Adaptation – the film was viewed by many in 1975 as a disappointment – it certainly has never connected with audiences, who find the film long and boring. But over the years, the film has grown in stature, as critics at least have caught up to what Kubrick was doing in the film. This is a cold film – and it tells, in detail – the story of an inconsequential life of Redmond Barry (Ryan O’Neil), who starts a poor Irish farmer, rises to the heights of British society, and loses it all again. Barry is a rather passive character, who in many ways stumbles through the events of his own life. Kubrick adapted the novel by William Makepeace Thackeray, who wrote his book as a satire, told in the first person to try and gain some sympathy for his lead character. Whatever Thackery was satirizing doesn’t come across in Kubrick’s film – and he replaces the first person narrator with a bemused, omnipotent narrator, who often tells us what is going to happen much later in the movie. The first half of the movie takes place mainly during the Seven Years War – but the movie makes no effort to explain what that war was fought for. The narrator tells us that someone more versed in history would have to explain it – because it doesn’t really matter to this story. Some countries are fighting with other countries, and Barry is caught up in it – first as a British soldier, but then he deserts, and is caught and forced into the Prussian Army – which was far worse, far more cruel and brutal than what Barry was running away from. Although the narrator – and Kubrick – never state it outright, perhaps what Barry went through in the war explains the man he would become. While some see Barry’s fall as a result of society’s moral failings – I’ve always seen it as a more personal failing on the part of Barry himself.

When the film opens, Redmond Barry is a fool in love with his cousin Nora (Gay Hamilton). She decides to marry a wealthy British officer, and so Barry challenges the man to a dual – and wins – but then has to leave anyway to avoid being hanged. On the road, he is robbed of all he has, so he has little choice but to join the British army. He watches as his friend and mentor is killed – so when an opportunity comes up to flee (by impersonating an officer) – he seizes it, only to be caught and forced into the Prussian service – where, although he impresses his superiors, they also note his cruelty and lack of character – which Barry blames on the element he has fallen into (to Barry everything is someone else’s fault). Later, he will again seize on an opportunity to run away – by joining forces with a gambling fraud of a Chevalier – and he lives the life of a gambler. While living this life, he meets Lady Honoria Lyndon (Marisa Berenson) – and her much older, wheelchair bound husband – and sets his sights on her. She falls in love with him, and when her husband dies, marries Barry – who now has the money he has always wanted. But he still has no title – no security – and it is his quest to get this that ultimately leads to his downfall.

Ryan O’Neil has never been a great actor – even at the height of his fame, right before Barry Lyndon, he was more well-known for his generic, non-threatening good looks and easy charm than his acting ability. I wouldn’t call his performance in Barry Lyndon great either – but it is perfect for Kubrick’s purposes. Lyndon is a passive character – in many ways, he remains a blank slate from beginning of the film to the end. There are really only two scenes where he shows any real emotion – when his son dies, and when he attacks his step-son – other than that he remains almost perfectly calm at all moments, betraying little to no emotion. The same can be said for Berenson as Lady Lyndon – she was a model, and Kubrick seems to have cast her for her looks more than anything else. These characters almost seem like observers of their own lives than active participants. Barry does nothing on his own initiative – he is forced into almost everything he does, by the army, by his mother, by his stepson, etc. He becomes cold and cruel – and everyone in the film is willing to exploit him for his wife’s money. Its how the game is played, and as long as Barry conducts himself as a proper gentleman, they are willing to pretend he is one of them.

The film is a master class in filmmaking. Everything in the film is precise and beautifully executed – it is in fact one of the most beautiful films ever made. In particular, the cinematography by John Alcott is one of the best achievements the medium has ever seen. The exteriors are bright and beautiful – with Kubrick’s typical, sweeping shots. The interiors are even better – using only natural light, and the light provided by the candles, the interiors are dark, yet opulent. The film, like his two previous films 2001 and A Clockwork Orange, makes good use of classical music, adapted for the movie itself – which heighten the movie, without underlining everything. The film moves at a deliberate pace – even a dual in the second half of the film stretches on for minutes on end, which drains it of its energy – which stands in stark contrast to the dual near the beginning of the film, which is over and done with quickly.

The film is not as exciting as many of Kubrick’s films – but that is by design. Roger Ebert compared the film to 2001 – saying that “both films about organisms striving to endure and prevail – and never mind the reasons. The earlier film was about the human race itself; this one is about a depraved minor example of it”. That is true in many ways. Barry is a man, who like all Kubrick protagonists (save for Spartacus) is not driven by anything greater than himself – not by his beliefs or ideals or emotions. He is a selfish, cruel character who gets what he wants because he is able to be whatever he needs to be at any moment – and then completely abandon that act when it no longer suits his purposes. Barry sees himself as a victim – I think he does anyway, it’s hard to know precisely what Barry is thinking at any point in the film – but his rise and fall is all because of his own actions. He cannot see that – but Kubrick does.

I know that many people will see Barry Lyndon as long and slow and one of those movies where “nothing happens”. Let them say that if they wish. There is a lot going on in Barry Lyndon – it is a clear, cold eyed view from Stanley Kubrick of a man that had he been real, history would have long forgotten. The epilogue of the movie perhaps sums up the movie better than anything I could say “It was in the reign of George III that the aforesaid personages lived and quarreled; good or bad, handsome or ugly, rich or poor they are all equal now”. That line provides more insight into the human condition – and into Barry Lyndon himself – than the character could ever hope to have.

The Films of Stanley Kubrick: A Clockwork Orange (1971)

A Clockwork Orange (1971)
Directed by: Stanley Kubrick.
Written by:  Stanley Kubrick based on the novel by Anthony Burgess.
Starring: Malcolm McDowell (Alex), Patrick Magee (Mr. Alexander), Michael Bates (Chief Guard), Warren Clarke (Dim), Adrienne Corri  (Mrs. Alexander), Carl Duering (Dr. Brodsky), Michael Gover (Prison Governor), Miriam Karlin (Catlady), James Marcus (Georgie), Aubrey Morris  (Deltoid), Godfrey Quigley (Prison Chaplain), Sheila Raynor (Mum), Madge Ryan (Dr. Branom), Philip Stone (Dad).

A Clockwork Orange is infamous for its controversial depiction of violence. Stanley Kubrick shoots the violence in the film with the same glee that the film’s protagonist, Alex (Malcolm McDowell) commits it. But Kubrick also frontloads the violence in the film so it’s almost all right near the beginning. Within the first five minutes, Alex and his “droogs” have beat up a homeless man – from there, Kubrick goes immediately to a rival gang on the verge of gang raping a young woman, which turns into a gang war with Alex and his gang, and then right from there Kubrick goes cuts to Alex and his gang driving recklessly down the street, running others off the road, and then goes immediately into the scene where Alex sings “Singin’ in the Rain” as he beats up an old man, and then rapes his wife. All of this happens within the first 15 minutes of the film. Kubrick keeps going with the violence in the movie for another 15 minutes – the infamous fast forwarded threesome with Alex and two teenage girls, his fight with his own gang, and then the second home invasion – with the cat lady – when Alex plays with her phallic sculpture, and then attacks her – leaving her dead – and then he’s confronted by his gang, attacked and left for the cops to clean up. Within the first 30 minutes of a movie that runs well over 2 hours, Kubrick has had almost all of the graphic violence the film will contain – the violence from that point on is still there, but it’s shown much quicker – Kubrick doesn’t dwell on the violence later in the film, and doesn’t show it with the same glee that the violence in that first 30 minutes is show.

All of this is done on purpose. Kubrick wants to establish right off the bat what kind of person Alex is – Tasha Robinson, in her excellent essay from September, would refer to Alex as one of cinema’s “irredeemable protagonists” – a lead character who is rotten to the core and not only isn’t going to get better, but has no interest in getting better. Alex goes through a lot in last hour and forty-five minutes of A Clockwork Orange – but he remains precisely how he is. The reason Kubrick does this is because more than anything else, A Clockwork Orange is a film about free will. Like the old saying about free speech goes - `Freedom of speech means nothing without the freedom to offend`. The same is basically true of free will – it doesn’t mean anything if you cannot choose to do evil. Alex is an evil character to be sure –but he is a human being right up to the point where the government takes away his ability to choose to be good or evil – then he ceases to be human. Kubrick could very well have made movie with the same message that was easier to take – to make Alex a more likable character who had his free will taken away from him – but that would have been a much safer, much less interesting film – because how could anyone argue against an innocent person losing their free will. By arguing that someone as evil as Alex deserves the freedom to choose to be good or evil makes A Clockwork Orange a much more daring, much more memorable film.

A Clockwork Orange was an interesting choice for Kubrick coming off of 2001: A Space Odyssey – which is Kubrick’s most hopeful film, one that shows humanity place in the universe, and argues that we have room to grow as a species. To Kubrick, the history of humanity wasn’t the same view that religious people take – that looks at how far we have fallen from the Garden of Eden in paradise – but how far we have come from the time we were apes. A Clockwork Orange is probably the darkest film in Kubrick’s career – but is still keeping in line with his view. Like 2001, he creates an entire universe in A Clockwork Orange – and it’s one of the most memorable in film history. The film takes place in some sort of future dystopia – but Kubrick doesn’t spend any time telling us how humanity got to this point, or even really what this point is. There are some references to politics – and before Alex undergoes the treatment to cure him of his violent ways, it is mentioned that all the room in prison will soon be needed for political prisoners. What those prisoners’ crimes are is never mentioned – I think because Alex doesn’t really care. He never sees beyond his most immediate needs and wants – he doesn’t care about the world around him. Kubrick lets that world seep in around the edges – but only to a point.

The production design, the cinematography, the use of classical music and the costumes are all as well executed as they were in 2001 – Kubrick was a master at world building, but he keeps that in the background. We spend the entire movie with Alex – brilliantly played by Malcolm McDowell, who does nothing to make Alex likable – which strangely makes him all the more interesting. McDowell goes over the top from the beginning, and keeps it there – it’s a portrait of a youth who just doesn’t care as disturbing as anything we’ve seen in the movies. None of the other characters leave anywhere near the same impact as Alex – they come and go quickly – leaving as soon as Alex has no use for them.

The violence in the movie is strong and disturbing – but it’s the later scenes that are perhaps even more disturbing. Alex is used as a test subject for a new treatment – drug therapy combined with been strapped down and forced to watch violent movies, which eventually make him physically ill when he even contemplates violence. This is an abuse of government power to be sure – and something the audience would never except with a more innocent character. And that is what makes A Clockwork Orange so memorable – Kubrick makes you at least consider what the government is doing to Alex, and its benefits. Clearly society cannot function with people like Alex – who rape, kills, beat and rob whoever they want – but what are they supposed to do with them. You may well find yourself agreeing with the government – which when you consider the implications makes the film more disturbing.

I have probably seen A Clockwork Orange more times than any other Kubrick movie. It immediately draws you in, but leaves you shaken and disturbed. Many critics – like Roger Ebert – do not seem to be able to get over the violence, and do not much want to dig in much deeper to what Kubrick is doing in the film. That violence at the beginning of the film is strong and memorable – but it’s only the tip of the iceberg to what Kubrick is doing here. It needs to be that strong for Kubrick’s purposes. I understand if you don’t want to spend too much time with Alex – but you’re missing out if you don’t.

Movie Review: Rosewater

Rosewater
Directed by: Jon Stewart.
Written by: Jon Stewart based on the book by Maziar Bahari and  Aimee Molloy.
Starring: Gael García Bernal (Maziar Bahari), Kim Bodnia (Rosewater), Dimitri Leonidas (Davood), Haluk Bilginer (Baba Akbar), Shohreh Aghdashloo (Moloojoon), Golshifteh Farahani (Maryam), Claire Foy (Paola), Amir El-Masry (Alireza), Nasser Faris (Haj Agha), Kambiz Hosseini (Hassan), Numan Acar (Rahim), Jason Jones (Himself).

Four times a week, Jon Stewart goes on TV and finds humor in material both serious and ridiculous. His strength has always been in a common sense approach that cuts through all the bullshit that politicians spout off on a daily basis. In his debut film, Rosewater, he does something similar with material that would seem to be resistant to such humor. This is the story of Maziar Bahari, a journalist for Newsweek who returns to his home country of Iran to cover the controversial election of 2009. After Mahmoud Ahmadinejad won a landslide re-election, many in the international community suspected that the vote had been rigged – and thousands of Iranians went to the streets to protest. Bahari had met some of the young people who supported Ahmadinejad’s opponent, and also have worked to undermine the tight government regulations on information – by installing a bank of satellites on the roofs of their apartment building. It’s while with these young men, that Bahari shoots some footage of the protest – that includes a young man being gunned down in the streets. He gives the tape to another foreign journalist – who broadcasts for the world to see. It is then, of course, that the secret police arrest Bahari – and accuse him of being a foreign spy. For four months, Bahari is held mainly in solitary confinement, his only human contact is with his “specialist”, who he dubs Rosewater, for his scent. Rosewater subjects Bahari to a systematic campaign of terror – while there is actual physical abuse, it is the psychological abuse that hurts more – the constant threat of something worse about to happen.

This is serious material – and addresses some serious issues. While Stewart stops short of outright saying that the election was rigged, you can tell what he thinks. The film’s main subject is the censorship of journalists, and the use of fear as a weapon to silence the people. Yet, Stewart finds the humor in the movie right for its first scene – and while there is some harrowing stuff in the middle, Stewart never pushes things so far that the audience becomes uncomfortable, or terribly shocked – or loses their ability to laugh, and see the ridiculousness in what is happening – something Bahari loses only temporarily.

The casting of Gael Garcia Bernal as Bahari is somewhat strange – Bernal, after all is Mexican, not Middle Eastern. But what he brings to the role is that broad, goofy smile that he utilizes in every role, and makes Bahari instantly likable. He makes Bahari both funny, yet smart. He is a sympathetic character from the start. The other major character in the film is Rosewater, played by Kim Bodnia who can be terrifying at times, but who Bodnia and Stewart make more human than you would expect. He has his own pressures he is dealing with, that makes him push Bahari harder than he might otherwise. Stewart also makes him a subject that he can mock – he has no real understanding of Western culture, and doesn’t realize when Bahari is making fun of him, but takes everything seriously. It’s a fine performance.

As a first time writer and director, Stewart mainly plays it safe. There are stylistic choices littered throughout the movie that a more experienced director may not have made (an early scene of scenes from Iran playing out behind Bahari as he walks by numerous chain restaurants and stores for example). He never pushes Rosewater into truly challenging territory, or brings it outside his comfort zone.

 
Having said that, everything in the film is well executed by Stewart and company. It’s not the most daring film, but it’s still well made, well written, well-acted and well intentioned. It works well enough, that I would look forward to seeing another movie by Stewart if he choose to make one – but not well enough that I want him to give up his day job.  

Dual Movie Review: Butter on the Latch & Thou Wast Lovely and Milk

Butter on the Latch
Directed by: Josephine Decker.
Written by: Josephine Decker.
Starring: Sarah Small (Sarah), Isolde Chae-Lawrence (Isolde), Charlie Hewson (Steph).

Thou Wast Mild and Lovely

Directed by: Josephine Decker.
Written by: Josephine Decker and David Barker.
Starring: Joe Swanberg (Akin), Sophie Traub (Sarah), Robert Longstreet (Jeremiah), Kristin Slaysman (Drew), Matt Orme (Caren), Geoff Marslett (Richard).

Debuting in theaters, and on Fandor, last Friday Josephine Decker’s first two films – Butter on the Latch and Thou Wast Mild and Lovely – made less than a year apart announces an interesting new talent to the independent film world. A former performance artist (she was apparently the woman who got naked in front of fellow performance artist Marina Abramovic during her The Artist is Present exhibit – and seen in the excellent documentary about Abramovic), Decker’s first two films are existential horror films that slowly build a feeling of dread throughout their slight running times. Butter on the Latch is the first, and better, of the two films – largely improvised by its stars, and set mainly during a New Age retreat in California, as two best friends – Sarah (Sarah Small) and Isolde (Isolde Chae-Lawrence) seem fine at first, but are torn apart by tension – that is only partially explained. We constantly get have the sense that something bad is about to happen – and it does in the end. Or does it? Thou Was Mild and Lovely was scripted by Decker, and is more conventionally satisfying, but also slight less ambitious and ambiguous, and leads to a more standard climax. Both are good little films though, and are best seen together for maximum impact.

Butter on the Latch opens in New York – with a performance art piece starring the main character Sarah. On the streets after the performance, she gets a frantic phone call from a friend, although we only hear Sarah’s part of the conversation. Her friend may be being held somewhere, or perhaps just had a one night stand gone bad. Sarah seems about to lose it – but then goes back to normal, dancing at a club, and then waking up the next day, naked, with strangers – a situation she flees. A smash cut later, and we’re in California with Sarah, and her best friend Isolde – who has just gone through a breakup. They’re at some sort of retreat –the type of place where all the campers participate in a drum circle around a campfire. The tension between the two of them grow – especially after Sarah starts flirting with another camper, Steph (Charlie Hewson). The two women are best friends, but in many ways opposites – Isolde seems comfortable in her own skin, and with her own sexuality – while Sarah feels like an outsider to both. There are some creepy scenes of the pair – and later just Sarah – walking through the forest at night, and talk of Eastern European folklore, about dragons and spirits. Is something out there? Does that explain the finale? Or is it all just Sarah? The movie doesn’t explain which is part of its strength.

Thou Wast Mild and Lovely is more straightforward. A farmhand, Akin (indie stalwart Joe Swanberg) is hired to work the summer for Jeremiah (Robert Longstreet) and his daughter Sarah (Sophie Traub). The father and daughter are close – perhaps not quite incestuously close, but pretty close to that. Jeremiah is a loudmouth bully, who belittles the mostly silent Akin every chance he gets. Sophie is overtly sexual towards Akin – but also somewhat disturbed. Akin is played almost as a blank by Swanberg – a character who lies constantly, but has his darker side as well – although Swanberg never really lets us see that side of him.

Of the three characters, really only Sarah is of interest. Jeremiah is too one dimensionally gross (an unfortunate cliché about Southern farmers Decker indulges in) to be of real interest, and Swanberg’s Akin, even though he is the central character, is such a blank that he goes beyond ambiguous and just becomes dull. But Sarah is torn between these two characters anyway – damaged, like the men, but more unpredictably so. You’re never quite sure what she’s going to do next – and Traub is great in the role.

Decker indulges in some pretty silly clichés, and narrative paths, throughout the two films – purposefully so for the most part (I cannot believe that Decker means us to take a scene where we see two people engaged in sex from the point of view of a cow seriously). The cinematography is almost all handheld, and the editing intuitive (Decker does the editing herself), and in both films she succeeds in building up a mounting sense of dread – the promise of violence not unlike a well-executed horror film. While Decker does give us the ending we expect in both films – to a certain degree anyway – they also work (more so in Butter than Thou, but I digress).

Neither of the films are great – they are more than a little rough around the edges, and indulge a little too much in clichés, both in terms of character and narrative. But they also show a promising start to a directing career for Decker. She has worked as an actress before for Swanberg – who returned the favor here – but in just two films, Decker has shown more talent than Swanberg so far. I know who’s next film I’m looking forward to more.