After Lucia (Philadelphia Film Festival)

Michel Franco's "After Lucia" is too insular for its own good, not bringing enough to the table thematically to attempt a small-scale analysis of bullying, or really anything in particular. The perpetrators seem pulled from a PSA. Alejandra, the victim of the harassment, is just as underwritten, and credit should go to Tessa Ia for gleaning any sort of emotional response from the audience. Everything is pared down to fit Franco's static style, which occasionally allows bits of tailored emotion, most of them courtesy of Hernan Mendoza as Alejandro's father Roberto ("a disgruntled chef," as the problem says, pretty hilariously). Mendoza gives the film some of the spark it needs, but all the same, even his characterization feels familiar. Franco goes for a mix of subdued and unhinged, but it all feels poured on, tired, and not really justified, including the apathetic and abrupt last scene. The film's aesthetic is predominantly trashy and repetitive, with a couple of nice compositions sprinkled in due to luck or motives unknown.  How this movie has gotten so much attention (the Un Certain Regard prize at Cannes, Mexico's cosign for Best Foreign Film) baffles me, and the more I think about it, the less sympathy I'm willing to give it. C-

Martha Marcy May Marlene; Tyrannosaur; Once Upon a Time in Anatolia (Philadelphia Film Festival)

I saw two of these three as part of the Philly Film Festival, but "Martha Marcy" (which is now technically in its general release) played earlier in the fest so it's valid in rounding up here. I saw about 15 minutes of "House of Tolerance" (or "Pleasures," whichever you wish to call it), but I walked out so I could catch the end of Game 7 between the Cardinals and the Rangers. Much more interesting, as far as I could tell.

Sean Durkin has made one of the year's most propulsive, engaging films with "Martha Marcy May Marlene." Yet despite being so magnetic, it falls far, far short of being a great film. Durkin is a phenomenal director when it comes to look and atmosphere, but he stumbles mightily in the area of screenwriting. He fails to develop the plot to a satisfactory degree, and thus is unable to reach the heights he's more than capable of achieving.

Martha (Elizabeth Olson), who joined a cult due to her lack of a stable family (and who was renamed Marcy May), ultimately gets fed up and leaves to lay low with her sister Lucy (Sarah Paulson), who's on vacation in Connecticut. But Martha's flashbacks and cult-induced tendency towards uncouth behavior quickly start to alienate Lucy and her husband Ted (Hugh Dancy), and Martha's future seems uncertain.

The film's depiction of the cult is unsettling and riveting, full of many beautifully observed details (the men eating as a group, then the women) and POV quirks (rituals are seen from Martha's eyes). But it would be nice if there was just more there, since when the film comes to a close, we feel as if we only caught a glimpse of this faction. When you have John Hawkes at his absolute best, it's a pity to underuse him. (He does have one particularly extraordinary scene, where he sings and plays on guitar a tune called "Marcy's Song.") And Olson's work calls for more as well.

The film's strongest element is its overwhelming technical prowess. Jody Lee Lipes and Zachary Stuart-Pontier do incredible jobs with cinematography and editing, respectively. Though sometimes Lipes uses the wrong lenses in the wrong places, he accomplishes a stark, rattling visual style. And Stuart-Pontier's deft cross-cutting between the present and the past borders on too good at times-- editing usually isn't this seamless anymore. Yet Durkin confuses the pieces he has for a full puzzle when indeed there are some big holes that aren't filled. Thus, though it impresses in spades, "Martha Marcy May Marlene" isn't a full enough work. B-

Paddy Considine's "Tyrannosaur," is a cohesive film, but feels banal and unassured in ways that Durkin was able to avoid. A drunkard named Joseph (Peter Mullan), depressed after kicking his dog to death and being persecuted by the goons of the store owner whom he annoyed, looks for some support in the form of Hannah (Olivia Colman). In his abrasive way, he at first insults Hannah's naivete and devout Christian piety but eventually forms a strong bond with her. She needs some emotional aid as well, seeing that her husband James (Eddie Marsan) is a violent, manipulative, despicable version of his former self.

If it weren't for Colman's magnificent supporting performance, this movie wouldn't be moving in the slightest. It's still not that affecting, but Colman gives it all she can give. Considine does her and Mullan (solid as well) absolutely no favors, soundtracking the film as if it were a folly and piling on disaster after cliche disaster with the grace of a Disney auteur. If I still favored Jim Sheridan over Terence Davies (who, admittedly, did come to mind during this film's better moments), I think I would enjoy this. No dice. C

Nuri Bilge Ceylan has one of the most distinctive eyes in cinema today. Neither of the films of his that I've seen ("Distant" and "Climates") ever caught up to their images. "Once Upon a Time in Anatolia" perfectly illustrates why the man should stick to photography or video art and stop with the pretense of making feature length narrative motion pictures. None of the film's rambling philosophy or stilted, patently unfunny comedy ever rings true in the way a single still does. What would have been nice if all of these images had been his, but in fact, Ceylan lifts a whole lot from the canon of Abbas Kiarostami: the use of the zigzag landscape, dashboard cam, the apple rolling from the tree downstream just like the can does in "Close-Up."

Despite these problems, Ceylan has still made a somewhat interesting film with great shots and many memorable, well-defined characters (a prosecutor, a driver, and a police chief among them). It follows a convoy of police officials as they drive around looking for a buried body at the mercy of the captured killer. In a regular film, this section would only take up a fraction of the film. The body would be found and that would be that. But Ceylan decides to devote 120 of 150 minutes on it, and thus incites us into thinking more about this process. I don't think much comes of it at the end, but it's a solid approach. Ultimately, it's less about what happens to the suspected killer and more about what happened to the body and the family of the deceased.

I was rather annoyed with the film's main character, a righteous doctor (Muhammet Uzuner) who seems to be solving everyone's problems and having all sorts of profound psychological quieries. I think most people who can take this guy will enjoy the movie, and those who can't (like me) will be less likely to appreciate it. As for Ceylan, he's becoming a director like Nicolas Winding Refn whose films I like in theory but not all that much in practice. It always seems like he's aspiring to far less than he could. C+

A Screaming Man (Philadelphia Film Festival)

"A Screaming Man" has a heartrending plot, but the execution isn't entirely successful. The two things that send it most off-course are a disconnect and a lack of focus. A film like "Tokyo Sonata" worked on me because it knew what it was trying to do and did it well. There are parts of this film that are ambiguous when they shouldn't be, and as a result, some of the directness needed for an impact isn't there.

However, there are definitely good facets to this film, which won the Jury Prize at Cannes this year. It is nicely set-up and orchestrated by Mahamat-Saleh Haroun, the writer-director. He follows Adam (Youssef Djaoro), a hotel pool attendant much respected and often referred to as Champ. He works alongside his son Abdel (Diouc Kama), a charmer who carries around a digital camera and takes enough pictures to fill a Facebook page in no time. (Their introductory scene, also the film's opener, is excellent.) This is a working arrangement liked by Adam, but apparently seen as frivolous by the manager (Heling Li, who has a pretty interesting scene towards the end), who eventually demotes him to gatekeeper, leaving Abdel. Adam cannot believe it, even though people around him (such as the cook) have been fired completely. His new job is a drag and, in his opinion, way below him. This is illustrated most effectively in two instances: a long and exaggerated shot of Adam running between the enter and exit gates, trying to let cars in faster and a spread that zooms in to a close up on his face that fills the entire screen.

This scenario is coupled with Chad's rebel conflict, which throughout the film escalates and escalates. A friend of Adam's and apparently the section chief of the neighborhood (Emile Abossolo M'bo) is constantly urging him to give to the war effort, which Adam is reluctant to do. And what happens as a result of his lack of action (or perhaps a sudden burst of action; such is unclear) is catastrophic. (You may want to stop reading now if you want the full effect of the film.)

Abdel is drafted and taken away by the authorities. Adam is viewed in this scene, and if I read it correctly, he's caught between horror and relief. On the one hand he gets his job back, but on the other he loses his only son. It's pretty amazingly and chillingly done by Djaoro and Haroun. This sets the stage for the introduction of the final character, Djeneba (Djeneba Kone), Abdel's singer girlfriend. She is the source of a moment of revelation, although exactly what it entirely means is uncertain.

The ending makes sense to me as a juxtaposition of the contained world (the pool) vs. the real world (the river), although it does kind of rip off Jim Sheridan's "The Field." The problem with it is that it feels minor. It's alluring, but it will result in the film not staying with the viewer.

The film does pretty well in terms of music and cinematography. Wasis Diop's swelling score (although it feels familiar) really suits the movie well, and Laurent Brunet's camerawork is quality. The problem with this film is the disjointed editing by Marie-Helene Dozo. Here's a case where big flaws in the make of a movie can really detract from it overall.

There have been movies recently where the events in the first half are innocuous before a descent into tragedy in the second. These films can only really be appreciated on the second viewing, because the first time through the set-up looks like the filmmaker is wasting time or unsure of what to do. Such films include "The Kids Are All Right" and "Animal Kingdom" (with Noe's "Irreversible" working in the exact opposite). "A Screaming Man" I think could be construed as one of these, perhaps improving with repeats. At this moment, though, I find it working at times, but, due to the uncoordinated direction of Haroun, not as a whole. B-

Tender Son - The Frankenstein Project (Philadelphia Film Festival)

Kornel Mundruczo's "Tender Son: The Frankenstein Project" is a powerful film, but that for me is largely due to its mise-en-scene. The film is shot as a sort of filmed play (which is befitting since this film apparently started that way). By choosing this style (reminiscent of Tarkovsky's "The Sacrifice"), the film gains a large amount of presence. We are embedded into every scene as a result. The cinematography by Matyas Erdely has earned a lot of praise and it definitely deserves it. He lays down such masterfully oriented compositions that they are at times a little too orchestrated, and a bit of a show-off. But the camera is essential to the film's minor degree of success.

The film feels pretty confused. I was expecting that the narrative would be divided evenly between The Director ("Tender Son's" director Mundruczo, acting pretty mediocre) and Rudolf Nagy (Rudolf Frecska), but Nagy ends up getting the lion's share, Mundruczo keeping himself offscreen. It seemed that The Director was too big of a character to let go of for as long as he is here, but Mundruczo would disagree.

Anyways, The Director is casting the lead actor for a new film that he's making (he also writes plays, so I'd agree with the speculation that this is a semi-autobiographical part for Mundruczo). He's taking a Mike Leigh strategy, perhaps, in auditioning the actors before he has a good idea of what the part is. Or at least that's what I assume, because the candidates for the lead actor include an old widow, two best friends, and some weird guy. His only criteria for the role are that (1) "the camera must be able to make them act" and (2) they must be able to cry. Everyone who auditions seemingly botches (2), including the old lady, who cries so hard that the scene sort of falls apart. Rudolf Nagy, who we see stumbling along, who carries along white "mourning" flowers for no particular reason other than that he likes them, who comes to audition marking only his name on the sheet, impresses the director so much that even though he's awful at (2) and even though he's antagonistic to the casting process, the director continues to test him.

He even tests him with an out-of-work actress, who is told to make advances on Rudolf. He's completely resistant and even violent. I can only deduce that the director is complete idiot from how he deals with this situation, putting the two in a closed room and telling Rudolf to film it. You can guess the result: Rudolf strangles her. However, the way this scene is handled (revealing what happens through the video camera's transmission to a computer monitor) is strangely captivating (perhaps one of a couple references to Michael Haneke's "Cache." Also referenced: "Gerry" by Gus Van Sant, supposedly via Bela Tarr).

After this scene, however, the movie-within-the-movie is abandoned completely, more evidence that Mundruczo threw this movie together with little coherence. The film goes on to see Rudolf through the corners of the house that most of the movie is set in, where he's hiding out from the authorities and where the director is shooting the film. It's Rudolf's mother's house, which explains why he auditioned for the movie there. I found the film from here on out sort of underwhelming (even more so than the beginning), perhaps due to the fact that I saw production shots that were supposedly from the film but make no appearance (maybe this is a different cut than the one from Cannes?). I do admire the foreshadowing in these scenes. The film styles itself so dramatically that see what will happen before it does. It's a nice effect, and, for me, a welcome predictability.

I can see why this film has no distributor: it has very little grip on the viewer beyond the grand aesthetic. That's not to say that it's boring. But it's extremely forgettable and only mildly cathartic. Plus, it has an ending that I doubt anyone will entirely appreciate. Maybe Mundruczo should've spent a little more time revising that part of the project. C

Update (December 17, 2010): I conducted an interview with Mundruczo, which can be found here.

Secret Screening: Everything Must Go (Philadephia Film Festival)

As the credits roll at the end of Dan Rush's "Everything Must Go," there's a frankly embarrassing mistake made that should be corrected before this film goes into wide release. That's mistaking the main character's last name, which is Halsey, for Porter. When the character's name is displayed as prominently as it is in this film, it's kind of inexcusable. The reason that this is most important, though, is that it shows up a big problem with the film: we as the audience know the main character better than the crew of the film does.

We know Nick Halsey (Will Farrell) well enough to know that his backstory (shown in his recounting of the moment he relapsed) doesn't really fit with him. He would not do these things. They're too... alien. It's not really one of those situations in which the character does something shocking and we have our entire perception of them changed. No, this is simply a matter of the director really not getting the character, not knowing how to portray them and what to associate with them.

Halsey is an extremely intense alcoholic (which is not much of a surprise considering that this is based on a Raymond Carver story). In the film's opening stages, we follow him as his job, wife, and company car leave him, and as he returns home to find the fixtures of his house (that's no longer his, by the way) strewn across his lawn like flotsam. This is shown with a refreshing change in technique: a lack of narrative breaks, meaning that time elapses closer to the way it actually does in reality. The film would have been altogether more piercing if it had kept this throughout, but instead it completely abandons this idea about an hour in and makes absolutely no chronological sense afterwards (does someone wake up in the morning twice in the same day?). The film's choice to switch to a more conventional method of time perhaps frees the film from being overly somber (and makes it more enjoyable), but an interesting idea is indeed scrapped. (Note: even if it had kept that sort of focus, it still would not compare to this immensely powerful video for "Crystal Ball" by Keane, which parallels a lot of what happens, albeit not for the same reasons). And, by the way, these problems with realism are the director's own mistakes, not to be construed as Paul-Thomas-Anderson-esque attempts to tackle the problem of the main character.

Anyways, Halsey takes up residence on his lawn (as he doesn't want to break into the house) in an easy chair and draws some unpleasant feedback: it's illegal. His detective friend and apparent former alcohol advisor (played by Michael Pena in a lousy performance that makes you wonder why this guy keeps getting cast) covers his ass by calling his excursion on the lawn a "lawn sale" and suggesting that he sell most of his stuff to get back on his feet. Halsey is at first resistant, but he decides to go through with it.

He hires a kid (Christopher Jordan Wallace) whose life consists of riding his bike around the block to help him out with watching and making signs for the stuff. The kid, oddly named Kenny Loftus (bizarre reference to the former MLB player?), wants to learn to play baseball (like all kids in this type of movie want to do). (Halsey agrees. They don't get really that far, though.) They form a business partnership that has a lot of sharing of those business tips like "Rule #1" and "Rule #18." This is a film cliche that's beyond tired out, and although Jordan Wallace makes it bearable, I wish Rush had resisted the temptation to use it.

He similarly fails to resist the temptations to include S&M and "Yo Momma" jokes, and to leave nice setpieces unexplained. He also sets a lot of the film to one of those overused "losing control" scores; you know what I'm talking about. The man follows indie cliches as prodigiously as the characters in the film follow the "Sales Bible." I must admit, though, that although the direction in this film is not impeccable, it does something right, as the film is undeniably enjoyable. On these grounds, I had a good enough time to recommend it. One, however, would not get much out of the film, as it is mostly not that inventive.

I think Will Farrell does a solid job, although I'm not sure if he's really the best choice for the main character. He's decent and works pretty well, but someone else might have fit better in. (Someone who may have made the backstory seem a little more plausible, perhaps?) It's not really a landmark in his career. I like his work in Marc Forster's insanely underrated "Stranger Than Fiction" better.

As far as the other performances go, they're for the most part below average, ranging from Rebecca Hall (who is not convincing at making "photography teacher" seem anything more than just a label), to Pena, to Glenn Howerton (startlingly bad and way overracted as Halsey's boss), to Stephen Root (poorly used and a long, long way from "Office Space"). Christopher Jordan Wallace is solid in supporting Farrell, but he himself cannot fully transcend the mold of the Indie Kid (much like Mia Wasikowska in "That Evening Sun"). And, as I learned with Wasikowska after her very good turn in "The Kids Are All Right," to paraphrase one of my commenters, it's the part, not the actor. (To tell you the truth, the character in that other film was much worse; Jordan Wallace's role is actually not too bad and he does it well.) Oddly enough, we also have Laura Dern in the film as a high school friend of Halsey's who he chases down after she wrote a nice thing in his yearbook. Her scene does some bizarre things, painting Halsey first as a loser, then dramatically overplaying him as the hero who made a nice gesture in high school. It's a weird (though nicely awkward) component that goes away as fast as it came.

This film was adapted from a story called "Why Don't You Dance?" by Ray Carver. Apparently it's a pretty loose retelling (a friend of mine notes that only the setting of the lawn is reprised from the original). It has some of the feel of a Carver story in its opening and it uses some Carveresque techniques like keeping the wife entirely out of the film, but, according to the friend who's read the story, this is not Carver.

The film has little value other than as an entertainment. There are no great performances (Farrell does nothing Oscar-worthy, if you were wondering) and there is no talented filmmaking (Rush is not a huge discovery, at least at the moment). However, it is diverting and I'm glad I saw it. You may have fun, taking pleasure in what's good (it's funny sometimes) and what's bad (when not taken seriously, Pena and Howerton are kind of a scream). C+