Benedict Cumberbatch works to crack the code in this drama based on the true WWII story.
The Imitation Game – Some films aim so hard to tell a true story – one that is compelling and fascinating by nature – but cling to a formula so much that the final result lacks the integrity and intrigue of the fact-based events. Oscar-baity or clichéd, some might call them, and it’s a shame they aren’t much of an anomaly this time of year. The Imitation Game, despite a solid cast and interesting subject matter, is such a film that oozes promise rather than power. Benedict Cumberbatch (TV’s Sherlock) stars as Alan Turing, a phenomenal mathematician and academic who is hired by British Intelligence to help decipher the Nazi’s Enigma code during World War II. Along with his fellow code-breakers (Matthew Goode, Keira Knightley), he was a celebrated hero during the Chuchill era – until his conviction for homosexuality, a criminal offense in the early 50’s. It’s a thrilling story tinged with tragedy, a tone that a film like Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy perfected with intrigue, intensity, and heartbreak. The Imitation Game certainly strives to convey that sensibility, but works too hard to imitate (yes) rather than muster up a soulful connection to its audience. Director Morten Tyldum, director of the slick Scandinavian Headhunters, has made a gorgeous and sleek-looking film that has considerable style and boasts solid production values. However, the film’s pace is very sporadic – it’s either repetitive and sluggish, or temporally frenetic. It also relies too heavily on flashbacks and misplaces them in such a way that obstructs the film’s flow and energy. It’s disappointing, given the potential for the story – in the hands of a different filmmaker, this material could have been handled with more subtlety and ambiguity. Tyldum’s film is at times clunky and overly sentimental, and neglects integrity in favor of predictability. Cumberbatch’s lead performance is also ineffective – he never quite finds the soul and humanity in Turing beyond the mannerisms and vocal control. He digs to convey his social isolation and mathematical brilliance, but not enough to truly communicate his restlessness, passion, fear, and heartbreak. Knightley and Goode give more stunning performances, as they are the most compelling screen presences in the film with their believable hesitation with Turing and witty timing. The Imitation Game is focused for a film, but it can’t seem to combine the provided ingredients into something cohesive, resonant, or enlightening. It’s a gorgeous and well-oiled machine, but the wheels simply aren’t turning.
Keira Knightley gives Chlöe Grace Moretz a lift in Lynn Shelton’s latest.
Laggies – For some strange (and unfair reason), the narrative of the young adult in arrested development seems to be a sub genre exclusively reserved for men (with the notable exception of Jason Reitman’s criminally underrated Young Adult ). Lynn Shelton’s Laggies may not have the razor-sharp iciness of Reitman’s film, but it’s a comedy that’s full of insight and ideas that sneak up on you. The film tells the story of Megan (Keira Knightley, free of corset), a twenty-something equipped with a graduate degree but lacking motivation – she’s content enough to hold and flip a sign for her dad’s small business. Smart but curiously aimless, Megan lives a comfortable and coasting life with her longtime-boyfriend (Mark Webber) and hangs out with her cheery high school pals who seem to be getting married and having children remarkably fast. Feeling a stab of pressure from her friends’ life changes, as well as a sudden marriage proposal from her boyfriend, Megan jumps out of her circle and into the life of Annika (Chlöe Grace Moretz), a teenager for whom Megan buys alcohol while disappearing from her soon-to-be fiancé. It dawns on Megan that she needs time to think her life over (a revelation that rarely happens so soon in a film like this – and used to such an interesting effect), so she pretends to go on a work retreat to lay low with Annika. The two paint each other’s nails, go to house parties, and swap secrets and stories – calming the older Megan, and warming the younger Annika. Things change when Annika’s stepfather (Sam Rockwell, a force) becomes suspicious of Megan…and then fond. This growing pains comedy takes a couple twists in its third act that are both entertaining and unexpectedly relatable that won’t be spoiled here. Yet what’s safe to say is that Shelton (working from a biting script written by another writer, Andrea Seigel) finds the humans under the characters. She understands the relationships, turmoils, pains, humor, and epiphanies, and allows them to flow through the film in an offbeat and organic way. The tone and look of the movie is colorful and pleasant, yet the ideas explored in the film are full of anxiety, fear, connection, and hope. In her previous film, Touchy Feely, Shelton examined the roles emotional releases and balances play in everyday life. In Laggies, she shifts to convey the whirlpools we often create for ourselves – the circling around, the pretending of, the putting off. This kind of stagnancy is as funny as it is heartbreaking as it is true, and the film finds the humanity and peace in the situation as well as the presentation of connection. Megan is the kind of unconsciously suffering, artificially happy character that’s tightly wound with ambivalence that it takes the pull of a string to unravel what’s going on with her – and that’s exactly what Shelton does. Knightley, Rockwell, and Moretz deliver a triple threat of appealing and honest performances that compliment both Seigel’s sincere and witty dialogue and Shelton’s careful yet spirited direction, resulting in a comedy that faces the situation of young adult ennui with serious spark. A-
Keira Knightley stars in Joe Wright’s stylish adaptation of Leo Tolstoy’s painfully romantic novel.
Anna Karenina – After brief but efficient encounters with true-story drama and gritty action (2009’s The Soloist and 2011’s Hanna), director Joe Wright returns to literary adaptation and his leading lady Keira Knightly with Anna Karenina. Adapted from the 19th-century Russian novel, the film tells the story of Anna (Knightley), the wife of a wealthy official (Jude Law) who enters into a passionate, secret affair with a young cavalry officer (Aaron Taylor-Johnson). Meanwhile, two other relationships are examined: one between a kind woman (Kelly Macdonald) and her cheerful yet philandering husband (Matthew Macfadyen), and another between the woman’s beautiful sister (Alicia Vikander) and her persistent suitor (Domhnall Gleeson). The plot is sprawling and epic, but Wright takes an unconventional approach to the material by placing a large percentage of the action in a specific setting: that of an old theater. The opening montage is astonishing with its elaborate set changes, intricate choreography, and stunning tracking shots. The odd yet fitting set enhances the theatricality of the story – scenes of Anna nearly collapsing over her lover’s race and dancing at the first ball are pure spectacle. It’s a shame that film neglects this technique in its last third and instead settles for murky, excessive melodrama. Anna’s passion transforms into heartbreak and embarrassment, yet the film has trouble portraying this raw complexity. Instead of displaying Anna’s ambiguous and hesitant emotions, she comes off as hysterical, confusing, and unlikable. This has nothing to do with Knightley’s performance – she’s consistently compelling and well restrained – but rather the screenplay, which fails to transition the story from love into pain. Yet in addition to Knightley, the movie is filled with a solid supporting cast – Olivia Williams, Macdonald, Vikander, Ruth Wilson, Emily Watson, and especially a funny Macfadyen are effective as the surrounding socialites in Anna’s conflicted world. Law and Taylor-Johnson are also impressive as the two men in Anna’s life, with the former embodying a stern, manipulative control while the latter communicates an uneasy but heartfelt ambivalence. The film’s cinematography, costume design, and art direction are also stimulating in their transportive power. Wright has crafted a gorgeous-looking and unusually staged adaptation with several memorable performances, but it is barely enough to counter the dramatic deflation that exists as the overlong story goes on. B-
Keira Knightley and Michael Fassbender explore each other's subconscious in Cronenberg's new film.
A Dangerous Method–In any psychology class or discussion, it’s guaranteed that either Carl Jung or Sigmund Freud’s ideas are going to be explored. Their teachings are prominent throughout textbooks and historical literature but the men behind the lessons are now cinematic subjects of David Cronenberg’s newest film. Jung (Michael Fassbender) is given the assignment of Sabina Spielrein (Keira Knightley), a young Russian patient whose past has imbued her with a sense of hysteria and paranoia. As Jung treats her, he gets to know the prominent and popular Freud (Viggo Mortenson, effective in a small role) whose controversial methods and theories differ extensively from Jung’s. Freud favored a more rigid approach to psychoanalysis while Jung believed in potential and possibility. As Cronenberg dives deep into their argumentative relationship, Jung and Sabina embark on a passionate but erotic affair that tests the former’s ideas and the latter’s stability. A Dangerous Method is not unlike the director’s past work in that it explores the limits and abstract notions of what makes us human and who better to cinematize than Jung and Freud, the two minds behind Cronenberg’s existing ideas. The film is beautifully shot and boasts some of the best cinematography of the year, while including two strong performances from Fassbender and Knightley. They make Jung and Sabina’s romance seem startling, sexy, strange, and ultimately, sad. But the screenplay by Christopher Hampton lacks emotion, favoring complex and layered insights that make the film very intellectual. Thus, just like the camera work, everything about A Dangerous Method can be appreciated because it’s externally appealing with its smart dialogue and fascinating concepts, but the film fails to carry any weighty heart or passion. It’s a shame considering the talent involved, but Cronenberg’s film is still an interesting watch for its bold performances and material. B
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Done with psychoanalysis, Michael Fassbender moves onto sex addiction...just 'cause.
Shame–Alright, I guess I caught Fassbender’s double bill at the festival, but these films only cement him as a terrific actor starting to grasp talent-appropriate roles (i.e. parts that him and only him can concur). In Steve McQueen’s second film (after the striking Hunger, which is hard to watch but an emblem of fantastic filmmaking), Fassbender plays Brandon, an early 30’s bachelor who has an impressive job, stable income, and a fantastic apartment. However attractive and balanced he may seem on the outside is put into terrible question due to the fact that he’s a sex addict with very little self-control. Brandon’s days and nights are filled with prostitutes and pornography and as he struggles to live a life without any of these vices, his wayward and equally troubled sister (Carey Mulligan) drops in and stays with her brother out of necessity. His sibling relationship may or may not be the one human connection in Brandon’s life that can bring him redemption and some kind of love that allows him to conquer his sexual demons. It’s a very different topic for McQueen to explore (his last film dealt with the limits of the human condition, while this one instead portrays what happens when we suffer from excess), but the director does it with brilliant skill and precision. The cinematography is striking as it symphonically captures Brandon at work in the public sphere while also succumbing to his human yet addictive desires, while the violent editing displays the devastation surrounding the character. Fassbender is outstanding in the lead role–not afraid to be extreme yet very vulnerable, Fassbender turns in a brave performance that sacrifices sympathy for darkness, ambiguity, some disgust, and ultimately empathy. Mulligan is just as great, sharing intense chemistry with Fassbender while also delivering a harrowing turn herself that’s full of angst and desperation. The issue, though, with Shame lies in the screenplay. It does a solid job of dramatizing Brandon’s inner turmoil, but doesn’t mold it into a very smooth narrative as the film feels a bit too much like vignettes of his life strung together. While this is a formidable option for a character-driven film, Shame becomes weak when certain shades of the character that are depicted become slightly boring or redundant. That said, it’s still a fascinating yet disturbing film that deserves to be seen due to McQueen’s distinct touch and Fassbender and Mulligan’s searing performances. B+
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Alexander Skarsgard and Kirsten Dunst share a moment that won't last in Lars Von Trier's latest.
Melancholia–With any Lars Von Trier movie, it’s best to start out saying, “Well, where to begin…” It’s no secret that some of his works are more provocations than trying to really convey anything original about humanity (Antichrist, while well-made, was thin on themes that ranged from disturbing to…more disturbing), but he has made some excellent but harsh cinematic statements with Dancer in the Dark, Dogville, and now, Melancholia. Kirsten Dunst, the latest actress to commit to Von Trier’s intense filmmaking experience, stars as Justine, a seemingly happy woman who’s plagued with a stabbing and slow-burning depression that manifests itself in dramatic fashion at her wedding. Her sister, Claire, plays caretaker to her but can’t help feeling frustrated and slightly impatient with her sibling’s condition…until she begins to feel just as hopeless as she and her husband (Kiefer Sutherland, not exactly playing Jack Bauer) learn that a large planet looms close to Earth and may or may not cause an apocalyptic collision. Insane and ludicrous it may sound, but Von Trier’s story is both beautifully original and shockingly relatable as he constructs a tight screenplay that intensely focuses on this dynamic with depression between the two sisters and how unpredictable, insurmountable, and powerful the condition can be. Neither character comes off as anything less than compelling, and this is due to the immensely strong work from Dunst and Charlotte Gainsbourg. I would have never thought, honestly, that Dunst could conquer a role like this but she brings grit, tears, and emotional malleability to a character so complex that it’s very impressive an actor like her could match Justine’s shades, depth by depth. Gainsbourg is just as terrific as perhaps the more familiar character of a woman who becomes tired of dealing with depression only to start feeling its penetrating impacts; she effortlessly embodies Claire’s alternating frustration and powerlessness. The rest of the cast is solid, ranging from Sutherland’s assuring but short-tempered husband to John Hurt and Charlotte Rampling as the sisters’ bitter and battling divorced parents. Not to mention the film is gorgeously shot and paired with heart-trembling music from Wagner’s “Tristan und Isolde”. But perhaps the biggest compliment I can pay to this film is a testament to Von Trier’s capability as a director: it near-flawlessly depicts such an abstract, almost indefinable state of mind and emotion as something both inexplicable and familiar, and bring it to the screen with such aesthetic beauty and cinematic strength. Melancholia might sound like a plain downer just from its name alone, but it’s an audacious exploration of what makes us crack, suffer, and never see the light in things that’s frighteningly and powerfully poignant. A
Here’s the trailer:
Another movie about sisters drifting apart? I'm down.
Martha Marcy May Marlene–That’s a tongue-twisting, long title, but it will soon become a household one due to this striking thriller’s dream-like tone and stellar performance from newcomer Elizabeth Olsen. She stars as Martha, a young woman who flees from a cult in the Catskill Mountains of upstate New York to escape back into the care of her older sister, Lucy (Sarah Paulson). Lucy and her husband, Ted (Hugh Dancy), welcome Martha into their fancy, lakeside house but can’t help but witness her very erratic behavior and speculate as to what specifically caused it. Throughout the film, as Martha struggles to re-assimilate herself into normal society she (and we) get glimpses into her disturbing period of living in a commune with fellow members whose denouncing of selfish material behavior and free love proves to be something more sinister and abusive. The cult’s residual effects on Martha fill her with paranoia and fear that the head of the commune, Patrick (John Hawkes, proving to be the reliable actor for a creepy antagonist for independent films), is after her. Questioning what’s real and what’s fantasy is the central theme of first-time director Sean Durkin’s film and he explores it in a way that’s both refreshingly original and narratively frustrating for the audience, recalling the early work of Terrence Malick (Badlands in particular). The flashbacks are done in an eloquent and smooth way but are confusing (beneficially) for the viewer as they, like Martha, begin to question what’s a memory of hers and what’s an illusion–the film is filled with intrigue but we constantly question whether what we’re watching is real or not, which is an exciting feeling of character-audience alignment from a little thriller like this one. The screenplay’s labyrinth of twists and tricks keeps the other characters and audience on a tight rope of suspense as it dives into Martha’s psyche, an endless cinematic treasure that lures as much as it frightens. It also helps that Olsen’s performance is so fearless and awe-inspiring, giving the film a protagonist who’s faithfully brought to life with skill and passion. Durkins’ feature has everything going for it–grade-A acting, a triple threat of solid cinematography, editing, and music, and a mystic screenplay–which makes it all the more puzzling why Martha, at the end, feels slightly underwhelming. Once the end credits hit after a terrific finale, I couldn’t help but wish the film pushed Martha even further to the edge to explore a much richer trajectory of her anxiety, fear, and shades of insanity. It’s terrific as it is now, but maybe could have been something stronger if a few more turns were made. A-
Cinemaniac 