A call to action asking everyone to help make sure the wrongfully incarcerated are released and given a legitimate chance to make it on the outside. This socially aware documentary gives voice to those no one wants to hear from, much less believe. Following several innocent convicts who have finally been released, as well as one who is near release - 3 years after he proved his innocence - the film captures the needless senseless loss, anger and frustration, stripping of dignity, and the solitude these men feel. They thought it would be easy once they were finally freed, but their isolation is altered rather than relieved. People feel there must be something wrong with a person in their forties or fifties that still hasn't made it. If they know they were in jail, that doesn't alleviate any of their failure, it just means they were a bad boy who got what was coming to them. Few are willing to try to understand you or your situation, and it certainly doesn't help that most states don't expunge your criminal record, resulting in your perspective employers thinking they'd be hiring a rapist. All this being said, the perseverance and positivity of the wrong-cons is simply remarkable! You'd think Jessica Sanders might figure if you don't feel anything for a people who had the best years of their lives robbed from them, you'd have a hard time making it from your coffin to the theatre. Unfortunately, an obnoxious piano score is inserted to convert those who are never going to be converted but are just too lazy to find the cable channel showing the new flesh. This documentary is clearly from the heart. It's purportedly about the attempts of the exonerated to rebuild their lives, but it was produced by lawyer Marc Simon, who worked with the Innocence Project during his student days and got all the access through them. Sanders has enough material to make at least a half dozen compelling films, but glosses over a lot of important stuff and merely grazes the surface on most issues. The 95-minute runtime may necessitate that, but too often she falls into the trap of being a mouthpiece for the Innocence Project. It's hard not to root for a non-profit litigation & public policy organization that aids prisoners who could be proven innocent through DNA testing, as negative test results would kill their chance of an appeal so it's not just cons finding a con. Still, I'd prefer it wasn't in the Barbara Kopple mode of taking the word of your side as gospel rather than questioning them on anything. The appeals for remuneration grow progressively more annoying, the point is made simply by stating the incorrectly incarcerated should at least get the benefits the guilty receive upon parole. Ultimately, we see the areas where our legal system is really lacking. At some point you'd hope partisanship would give way to right and wrong, to actual justice, but right now it's crime and punishment for whoever is convicted. [3/8/07] ***
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Though not in the league with Mackenzie's previous near masterpiece Young Adam nor Cronenberg's masterful adaptation of Patrick McGrath's Spider, Asylum is still quite an admirable work. Both Young Adam & Asylum are passionless films set in the well recreated 1950's. Like McGregor in Adam, Richardson takes a somewhat nihilistic path due to not fitting in. Her extremely fragile character is rebelling against the sterility of the asylum environment and the dullness of her boring and inattentive husband. However, largely due to the difference in traditional portrayals of men and women, by draining all the passion out of Richardson's character she winds up becoming a conventional character. McGregor's character seemed remarkably fresh, while Richardson's seems another variation on the femme fatale we've been getting for decades. The performances don't stand out quite as much as they did in Adam even if Natasha Richardson gives her best performance in 15 years, but they are all extremely confident and a key to the success of Mackenzie's style. Once again Mackenzie avoids talkiness; his primary strength is his ability to show rather than tell. McGrath's novel, which I found somewhat disappointing, was from the perspective of genial but cunning and sinister Dr. Peter Cleeve (Ian McKellan). Mackenzie takes the more traditional path of following the main character, the unsatisfied wife Stella (Richardson) who becomes obsessed with Cleeve's pet patient Edgar (Marton Csokas) who murdered his wife due to unbearable jealousy. This works most of the way, but then things become odd in the final portion when Cleeve is suddenly elevated from a minor figure to a major player. I thought Young Adam had a ton more sexual charge, this film had it in flashes but always seemed to be holding back, to be satisfied with tepid gothic melodrama. Mackenzie was one of the only directors in the 2000s who seemed to be unafraid of what others would think like the far rawer sex films of the 70s and early 80s often were. Here he's getting closer to the usual timidity, first and foremost worrying about not turning anyone off. [4/29/06] ***
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Cache is a unique thriller because the man tormenting the family with surveillance video recordings and obscure drawings not only isn't the bad guy, he verges on being a sympathetic figure. The possibility Majid (Maurice Benichou) is the menace is irrelevant because the film is about Georges Laurent's (Daniel Auteuil) guilt. True, everyone may be culpable, but that doesn't exonerate anyone; the tapes merely point out Georges is living in guilt. Georges' situation is representative of his country's as a whole due to their imperialist bullying of the Algerians, a real 1961 police massacre most likely killing the parents of fictitious Majid. Even though French Georges was just 6-years-old when he suckered adopted Algerian brother Majid into killing their rooster, he knew he was doing something wrong, so it became a traumatic experience for him as well. It's certainly easier to destroy the life of someone you know but desperately want to rid yourself of than to be on the receiving end, but Georges has never been able to justify his actions. Strong, perpetually worked up, and always on edge Georges is portrayed as the villain while Majid is weak and calm even when accused, the performances designed to lend credibility to the innocence and victimhood of cool and composed Majid. The brilliance of the surveillance person, whomever they are, is they are simply the catalyst. Rather than unveil their information swiftly in a manner that would unite the family, if for no other reason than us vs. them, he tweaks them with a sign then sits back and watches the slow disintegration of Georges and Anne Laurent's (Juliette Binoche) marriage. The threat to Anne isn't so much whatever Georges may have done wrong, but rather the honesty and integrity of their pact. Georges fails to recognize the options available to him. You can't partially explain these things; you either keep it all in or let it all out. They slowly lose trust in one another as small mistakes lead to big ones, Georges' first lie prompting the second one. Before you know it Georges' reactions have sent them free falling down the slippery slope to marital oblivion. Michael Haneke has a lot to say about the difference between interior and exterior, perfectly exemplified by the fact that Georges and Anne continue to play the content and functional couple, attempting to hide their rifts from the world until the tapes render the facade obsolete. [9/13/07] ***1/2
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Desperate alienated people lacking direction and foundation deal with their loneliness and isolation in different ways. Thirtysomething Harlan (Ed Norton) relates to the solitary individualistic cowboys of old westerns, crafting an ex rancher fantasy as an escape from oppressive cramped claustrophobic modern day San Fernando Valley. Unfortunately, he has such a strong need and no other way to fill it that he literally recreates himself as his fantasy. This, in turn, only further alienates him because his skills won't get him a job and leave him peerless, with his Stetson he's always a fish out of water. 17-year-old Tobe (Even Rachel Wood) and 13-year-old Lonnie (Rory Culkin) are very different, but are bonded by only having clueless authoritarian corrections officer Wade (David Morse), who may not be father to both and certainly treats them more like inmates. He only gives disapproval, leading Tobe to be an independent minded rebel and scrawny Lonnie to be a shy introverted tagalong. The kids take to Harlan because he has something they lack - identity - and gives them the love and attention that Wade isn't capable of. Ultimately Harlan is very needy, making him a good match for follower Lonnie, but not for his strong willed new girlfriend Tobe. Norton is a great actor, but he plays duel personalities whenever he can get away with it, so alarms are going off right away when we see him being so polite, charming, and courteous. Wade's initial judgement turns out to be right, but since consistent condemnation is his way he drives the kids right to Harlan. The kid's problem is they seem to have two choices, neither of which is good. Harlan has the best of intentions and gives them what they need emotionally, but is irresponsible, has questionable morals, can't be trusted, and certainly wouldn't be a reliable breadwinner. Wade keeps a roof over their head, but his heart is closed up from what he went through in Vietnam and/or with their mother(s). The film creates four very sharply defined characters that you can relate to, partly because the actors are so good they elucidate them well beyond what is stated. The film is very good when it balances fantasy with reality and need with availability, but it doesn't benefit from going off in Taxi Driver and Badlands directions. I normally wind up totally disgusted with character studies that devolve into action movies, and certain aspects like Tobe getting out of her deathbed almost as quickly as a superhero drove me nuts, but there's a certain logic in Harlan pursuing his delusional cowboy fantasy to it's conclusion. I liked that the film managed to not be judgmental, everyone tries but has their own wounds and limitations to deal with. It's refreshing to see a film that is willing to say a person changed others lives for better and for worse. [2/17/07] ***
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Edward R. Murrow reminds us what news is supposed to be, and perhaps once was, a non-aligned group who fights to keep the powerful working in and for the best interest of the public. The past is meant to comment on the present with Murrow once again pointing out that TV is used to distract and delude, make us fat and complacent, insulate us from reality, and pressure us to conform to the "values" of corporations and government. That said, the whole enterprise is not surprisingly very safe and comfortable in its relevance to current problems. The film is meant to point out the lack of credibility in contemporary "newscasts", but seems to miss the point that Murrow was one of the first and unfortunately last to have enough power to work around the system. At times the film works against itself, verging on making Murrow and co. into The Untouchables of the news industry, which implies the current problem is the lack of a dignified integrity filled super newscaster. Strathairn's brilliant performance as Murrow not only recreates his look and feel with equal accuracy, but saves the film by refusing to make the character too good or likable. His stoic Murrow is a very honorable and dignified man, but far more someone you want to work with than hang out with. This chamber piece is largely Murrow's battle with the witch hunting fear mongering senator Joseph McCarthy. The superb high contrast black and white of 1950's TV allows for McCarthy, the master of reducing every issue to those two colors minus the capability to combine and make shades of gray, to play himself through archive footage. McCarthy is nothing like the face of evil an actor would likely have portrayed him as in an over the top performance, so the importance of not having an actor interpret him or a script to change his dangerous and deceptive way of putting his lies over cannot be underestimated (though it should be pointed out the 1986 HBO biopic employed the same tactic even if to a lesser extent). This presentation is also relevant because Murrow's entire opposition to the extremist was predicated on the strategy of simply showing McCarthy in action. [6/22/06] ***
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A pregnant woman and her mother wind up stranded in the sand dunes when her husband (director Ruy Guerra) drags them from their urban life to the portion of the desert he had the brilliant idea of purchasing then accidentally kills himself in a fit of rage after all his helpers wisely bail. Life exiled in the vast oppressive barren setting makes the characters reflect inward, decreasing the dialogue. An existential parable on the futility of existence, Andrucha Waddington brings out the rhythms and continuity of life as the younger characters long to break free and do their best to survive in the interim. Opportunities manifest occasionally, but dry up so quickly you sometimes wonder if they weren't mirages. Unlike its far superior inspiration - Hiroshi Teshigahara's Woman in the Dunes - House has nothing to do with learning to survive or battling the ever shifting sand that overtakes their hut, and thus purposely lacks urgency. It's more a surrealist work showing life as a cycle where your desires are based on your age; the young are restless and want to find adventure while the old stay put and accept their fate. The women are so disconnected from the world there's no continuity. Time grinds to a halt then a decade flashes by, the passage shown through the bits of news and modern technology possessed by their momentary visitors, neither of which mean anything to the women. The point is driven home through jarring jumps in time that result in Fernanda Montenegro playing all three generations, and her real life daughter Fernanda Torres playing two generations. Artistically this may be a minimalist masterpiece with excellent pans and sweeps of the desert and ever-present natural wind and animals sounds comprising the score, but unfortunately the story dries up quicker than the rain. If you can accept the lack of detail that makes House of Sand quite Foggy, you'll be rewarded through lengthy takes that bring out the exceptional talent of the actresses amidst landscapes that for once aren't transformed into cute little postcards. This is one of the only recent films that made be believe I'd actually been transported to another time and place. Cinematographer Ricardo Della Rosa makes superb use of the largest dune field in Brazil, Lencois Zmaranhenses in Marinhao, draining all the color from the desert, making the sky seem white, the dunes appear to be slow motion waves, and the surface seem like that of the moon. The film is somewhat monotonous, but what else could it be? Time goes by, dreams evaporate, you get used to doing without and not being able to do. Such is life. [4/15/07] ***
Dickensian fairytale meets documentary style neo-realism in Andrei Kravchuk's look at a resourceful 6-year-old orphan who embarks upon a quest to unearth his real parents. Vanya Solntsev (Kolya Spiridonov) is the toast of the orphanage upon being chosen by an Italian family to go live with them in their home country, hence his new nickname "The Italian". All the other children would love to escape the waste station where Madam (Mariya Kuznetsova) makes a bundle of loot selling foundlings to foreigners, reinvesting almost none of the money into the institution. Other than Madam, the adults are disinterested rather than cruel, with virtually no staff underneath a headmaster (Yuri Itskov) who is too busy drinking to even play Fagan, the children are essentially left to their devices. Tough inmate Kolyan (Denis Moiseenko) runs the petty scams and underhanded businesses, including whoring teen orphan Irka (Olga Shuvalova) to truck drivers, but these hardened children generally take care of each other since they're all they have. Influenced by a plot contrivance, Vanya rejects the safe bet of the seemingly kindhearted and well-meaning foreigners for the crapshoot of hoping parents who most likely dropped him like a hot potato can not only be located, but will suddenly accept him rather than ship him right back to the hell hole where he'll likely rot until adulthood now that he's screwed Madam. The Italian essentially consists of two sections, the passionate driven star getting in with the gang of older orphans so he can learn to read (his file) then his journey to track his parents down. Though an optimistic fairy tale, The Italian isn't the usual nostalgic Splenda ridden sentimental fantasy. Kravchuk's filmmaking is very effective and unobtrusive, allowing the story to evolve and the emotions to seep in. It's classic universal storytelling, very enjoyable for all ages though annoying in its propensity to seek our approval for Vanya's silly quest. Kravchuk seems serious about showing Russian capitalism at it's "finest", yet not surprisingly isn't as clever or honest as Charles Dickens, so the shadiness winds up seeming to exist on the periphery. Similarly, the grim backgrounds and chilly color palette of Aleksandr Sokurov's great cinematographer Aleksandr Burov are purposely overshadowed by the focus lying squarely on the determined, resilient, and assertive child. Kolya Spiridonov is convincing as the boy on a mission, and all the supporting performances are quality as well since Kravchuk never treats the children as objects or pets. [11/24/07] ***
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A coming of age film for late maturers filled with pathos for sad sacks. Casey Affleck returns to his Indiana small town a defeated moper who went to NY dreaming of being a writer, but only found odd jobs such as dog walking. He's so afraid to fail he does nothing, but when his unkind words to his arguably more pitiful older brother Kevin Corrigan drive him to attempt suicide he's forced to take over some of his duties while he recovers. Home was always a place for Affleck to escape from due to the coldness and distance of his grumpy intimidating father Seymour Cassell and his oblivious and doting mother Mary Kay Place. Place, who gives an excellent performance that reaches depths rather than skimming the usual cliches, tries to mask her sadness and disappointment in a facade of untarnished cheeriness and optimism. Designed to make everyone feel better, it achieves the exact opposite. Corrigan doesn't do all that much to bother other people, that would take too much effort, but his presence may be the biggest negative because the rooted and divorced stoner is what Affleck fears he'll be in a few years since he didn't attain his dreams. Almost every character in this understated low key comedy tinged with dry and gallows humor is terribly depressed, but Affleck still has a chance to get over it because with no bills, commitments, or responsibilities he isn't locked into a certain life. Some hope for Affleck's titled character comes in the form of caring upbeat single mom nurse Liv Tyler, whose pursuit of the non-commital star is largely unreasonable, but of course serves the script in helping force him to figure out who he really is. Even Tyler is a lonely lost soul who has trouble helping anyone else even though she's among the ones who do try. Some people will find this mix of humor and despair depressing, but Buscemi is one of the few representatives of the many who aren't winning the battle of life. To me it's far more disheartening always seeing people who are far more successful than you are, especially the newest brand of celebrity, notable only for pissing away someone else's riches. Buscemi's film speaks to the lonely and hopeless who are 1000 miles from where they envisioned themselves. [12/30/06] ***
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Purportedly a horror film inspired by the collective writings of the Marquis de Sade and two stories of madness by Edgar Allen Poe, Lunacy isn't scary in a suspenseful manner or gory at all. However, Jan Svankmajer emphasizes the sensuality, ugliness, and obnoxiousness of each act and sound a way that gives an extra jolt to everything from debauchery to a chair scratching across the floor. Lunacy is the kind of primal confrontation between man and body that W.R.: Mysteries of the Organism and Sweet Movie director Dusan Makavejev might have made if he supported no political or ideological way of life. Svankmajer's film is political, but he thinks both sides are nuts and the collision results in a world where we are purportedly free but ultimately punished if we attempt to take advantage of it. There's obviously a religious aspect to that as well, as in Faust Svankmajer focuses on a predestined everyman who gains experiences that had previously alluded his means - in the case of Jean Berlot (Pavel Liska) it's more his morals - but ultimately loses a lot more. Svankmajer still uses the story within a story framing device, but unlike Little Otik and Faust where he utilized the mythical text, in Lunacy he uses the live action to explain the stop motion animation. All the characters in this visceral work are ultimately mindless or out of their mind meat puppets, so the animal parts such as raw slabs of meat, severed tongues, slithering brains, and rolling eyeballs accentuate the stupidity of man by, in their own way, imitating his recent actions. These stop motion sequences are nothing more than transition, which is disappointing because in choosing not to integrate the vast majority of the animation Svankmajer has lost much of his dream, fairy tale, and surreal atmosphere. The animation still overshadows the live action, but in this case that's a detriment because the appetizer is blowing away what, based on having the vast majority of screen time, must be considered the main course. [5/27/07] ***
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The conditions Emperor penguins rear their children under make the difficulty of human childbirth seem like a piece of cake. Weathering 100 mph winds and temperatures in excess of 50 below, they trek more miles to and from their breeding ground than most modern humans walk in a lifetime. And much of it is done without food; their males lose up to 1/2 their body weight from going four months without eating. It's all done for one new child that has too good a chance of not surviving. We should take note of the sacrifices they make, and the fact that when this season ends another one begins for those who survived. There is no refuge, only one mission, perpetuating the species. Unfortunately, instead of learning something from them we keep trying to ascribe our silly human characteristics and traits to them. I don't mind that the opening scene where the penguins emerge from the icy landscape is reminiscent of Lawrence of Arabia emerging from the desert sand. However, I could do without Morgan Freeman so dutifully pointing out the fact that they pout, strut, and preen. His narration would often be improved by allowing us to remember his quiet dignity (or better yet forget about him entirely) rather than forcing him point out the obvious. The reductionism, emotionalism, romanticism, and anthropomorphism are all coming from the narration and soundtrack (these happen to be the areas that were altered for US release), which typically refuses to allow us to spend any quiet time with nature. The film is beautifully photographed though, and is always fascinating and educational in spite of its limitations. It's one of those documentaries that shows the genre is not boring and is actually one of the only ones for all ages when the subject matter is of interest. The film is a genuine rarity, a recent children's movie that is something more than a series of marketing ploys. Despite the remarkable success of the film - it made over $77 million in the US on an 8 million budget and with only 1 week of being in 2500 theatres - don't count on many honest follow ups because Hollyplastic has proven time and time again they can make as much if not more with the usual product pushing manipulation given it's conveniently the only thing rated PG or less. The difficulty of making the film only decreases the chances, as it took 2 years to plan and one year in conditions obviously not suited to man to film. I can see the argument that it's similar to what's theoretically on the animal channels (though the one I get seems to mainly be one species brutalizing another) in the sense that it's a very traditional nature film and thus the strengths and weaknesses correspond to the genre. However, it's much more complete and focuses on a species we know little about because you can't exactly show up in the arctic armed only with a camera and a tent. [2/20/06] ***
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Plot is one of the biggest killers of art because once the artist has to announce the concept, or even worse explain it away, it's easy to slip into Stanley Kramer mode but difficult to convey your message in a manner that allows your audience to discover it. Miranda July's film is fresh, interesting, and relevant largely because she is able to simply put us in a world that actually looks like the one we live in and allow us to view a group of clowns like us attempting to interact. It's awkward and doesn't really go anywhere, but that's usually the way life is. The people don't fit neatly into any categories or types, and (with the possible exception of two teenage girls that are always together) they are actually all very different though their problems are very similar. The characters are extremely well drawn, and they continue the game of life, trying to ease their loneliness by finding someone else to play it with but that's when things get complicated. Even if the subject wasn't loneliness the characters would be too cutely intertwined, but in any case their briefly successful attempts to connect through fantasy break down as soon as reality creeps in. What is deemed "appropriate" tends to break down the relationships, but the range of problems is vast, varied, and often conflicting. Everyone should be able to relate to this film because you'll never get anywhere with a new person if you don't talk, but once you say something you never know how they'll interpret your meaning or take the comment. The mix of children and adults works well, especially in showing how adults often seem childish yet forget the aspects of childhood that would actually be helpful to maintain. The biggest problem with this film is it too often falls into the trap of needing to be quirky and shocking. It's a rare film that's willing to admit everyone has different sexual fantasies, but they are exploited in such a cute and innocent way that they often seem less believable than the usual artificial propaganda that everyone loves Barbie and Ken dolls. I was pleasantly surprised by the lack of sinister and creepy aspects that teach us to fear strangers and suspect acquaintances of dubious motives, but at times it still came off like a sanitized Todd Solondz. The film attempts to show that sexual fantasies have little to do with age, but the fantasies often just seem mishandled, especially when mixed with other bits that defy logic or reason for existing other than we need to spice things up. For instance, a goldfish magically appearing on top of one vehicle and landing on the back of another when the vehicle stops. [1/7/06] ***
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Isabella Rossellini wrote and plays every role (she's the voice of the jelly belly that represents Roberto Rossellini) in this imaginative centenary tribute to the birth of her legendary father Roberto that's actually far less gushing than his fans would have produced. The cinephile in Isabella attempts to reconcile his filmmaking career and legacy with the man she remembers bringing her up, creating a duality where she discovers some (not enough) of the former while reminiscing on the latter. Typically jam packed with both artistry and ideas, Guy Maddin's dreamy surrealist short is something of a collision between passionate debate and lively farce. Set in a long forgotten theater, the heroes of yesterday debate styles, values, methods, and purposes of a cinema that by and large no longer exists. Talking through his jiggling tummy, Roberto Rossellini battles against the manipulative suspense of Alfred Hitchcock and the dreams and sex of former disciple Federico Fellini that are industry ploys to distract the audience from the truth, striving to utilize film as a quest for knowledge where the filmmaker starkly reconstructs what probably happened in order to understand. Obviously the utter simplicity of Roberto Rossellini's films are very much at odds with those of artifice master Maddin, though for different reasons both directors films appear to be relics even at their premier. Maddin only films somewhat similar to Roberto when Isabella scolds him, telling him his camera movements are pretentious and immoral, so some Rossellini fans will by horrified by Maddin's enthusiasm for the surface beauty that's largely evoked through his bag of expressionist tricks. Personally, I salute Maddin, who has spent his entire career rekindling the flame for the best of bygone eras, for remaining true to his unique vision. I'd prefer to emphasize the more important similarity between Maddin & Roberto, they battle for the creative expression Hollywood seeks to squelch because it's easier to market, and thus profit from, a steady diet of prefabricated junk food. Surprisingly, of all the luminaries who are evoked, the non artist of the bunch David O. Selznick isn't condemned for representing the phoniness or blandness of the money movies he produced. Selznick instead supports the old studio system logic of keeping the cost down that allowed for some high quality Hollywood films to be made because on a smaller scale they could still be profitable and wouldn't bankrupt anyone if they weren't. That said, much of the liability of the project is Isabella seems to think in mainstream terms, choosing to emphasize her father's lack of commercial success over the huge influence he had on art house cinema during his lifetime. ***
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In a sense Polanski's Oliver Twist continues what he began with Pianist, showing the inner strength and will to survive of a person who can't really rely on anyone but themselves. Both films are slightly autobiographic, as a 10-year-old Polanski was left adrift after the Nazis took his parents away. Pianist feels like a more original work because it's not an adaptation of a book everyone is familiar with, but Oliver reflects Polanski's actual experiences at least as much and perhaps shows Polanki's brilliance more because it does so without ever feeling like anything other than Charles Dickens' work. Polanski and screenplay writer Ronald Harwood honor Dickens' obvious delineation of good and evil and flare for the melodramatic, but in small details this is a far more subtle and informed work than you'd expect. Polanski's version of the first great success by the man of many words is different from most others because he largely speaks with the camera. He puts great care into the lighting of the interiors in order to recreate the no electricity feel of mid 19th century London. The exterior shots are mid to wide angles, framed very spaciously to accentuate the sets and landscapes. It's a modern adaptation in that everything revolves around one main character, losing all the subplots, but in the case of Oliver Twist that may be a benefit because that eliminates some really contrived links between the characters. Fagin's character is very different; he's a somewhat endearing father figure who provides an apprenticeship in surviving through illegality. The pickpocketing scenes, done without gimmickry, are excellent acrobatic displays. Polanski made this film for his own children, and it's something they can relate to though it may be even more enjoyable for adults. [6/2/06] ***
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Complex, top notch, classically epic western dealing with the value of all life through the mistreatment of illegal aliens. A careless disaffected border patrolman (Barry Pepper) accidentally guns down the titled Mexican ranch hand (Julio Cesar Cedillo) because he's too busy preparing to spank the monkey to realize Estrada is actually shooting the coyote. Guillermo Arriaga's mysterious mockingly comedic script reveals details leisurely in a jumbled manner. Some aspects of the film are reminiscent of Sam Peckinpah's underrated unpleasant visceral macho masterpiece Bring Me The Head of Alfredo Garcia, with Tommy Lee Jones playing the fanatical character determined to complete the twisted journey by delivering the rotting body. Jones' obsession, based on his promise to his close friend close that he'd bury him at home, is not portrayed as being particularly disturbing or self-destructive though and that's a real fault. The film would be far more interesting and ambiguous if Jones were more demented rather than the surly justice bearer and Pepper was at least a bearable character that just screwed up rather than a doofus who seems to possess every negative quality of American males. Things are far less clear cut than I'm making it sound like though, even deceiving you into believing it's a revenge film. In fact, much of its high quality stems from its refusal to allow us to draw conclusions about persons or events. Jones gives a high quality performance, even if it's largely the same thing he did in The Fugitive. [6/29/06] ***1/2
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Egoyan's biggest budget, most conventional, and not surprisingly worst film. While Egoyan makes the material far better than it has the right to be by posing questions rather than just maneuvering to the answers, ultimately it makes him far worse than we've seen him. Even though the plot is imbued with enough uncertainty to keep things interesting, the film is more a conventional noir mystery drama engaged in dull machinations than Egoyan's usual penetrating psychological study of identity and the facade we build up around it to hide the truth. The flashback structure bears similarity to his other films, but this time is too tied to the plot. Egoyan's films had been built around holding off revelations on meaning and relationship of the various strands as long as possible. Here he fails to develop the characters and scenario well enough, to plunge deep enough that we truly care, trading off these strong points for an indifferent plot twist. Colin Firth & Kevin Bacon do very good jobs as the 50's variety show act based very loosely on Martin & Lewis that fell apart after a mysterious unsolved death, but main character Alison Lohman is completely out of her depth. She is not the least bit credible or compelling as the young tell all journalist discovering her childhood heroes aren't the gods she thought they were; she seems too dim and slapping on even more coats of paint doesn't equal maturity. The film manages to put across that the people really affected by the truth are those who are in some way involved and cover ups are more damaging than the truth because they have a way of killing off what they are designed to protect. Otherwise, it rarely gets beyond dabbling into what could be its points. Mychael Danna's score is the most disappointing aspect, trading in some of the off kilter mood for blaring melodrama. The film thankfully isn't meant to appeal to 14-year-olds, who largely aren't mature enough to want anything other than what they've been told too anyway, but there is no reason this film should be rated NC-17. The so-called controversial two guys and a girl scene is incredibly tame, tastefully done, and certainly isn't going to teach anyone anything they don't already know. The film certainly isn't sleezy, but comes off worse than Egoyan's better efforts because the source material forces it to veer closer to a genre film. [5/6/06] ***
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