Reviews: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011, Dir. Tomas Alfredson), Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (2011, Dir. Stephen Daldry), & The Iron Lady (2011, Dir. Phyllida Lloyd))

Gary Oldman infuses a raw, melancholic, and effective spirit into the role of George Smiley.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy–Director Tomas Alfredson gained a lot of admiration and cinema-cred (yup, it’s a new one) for his daring, subtle love story and vampire flick, Let the Right One In. And with his newest film, he proves he’s not a one-trick pony as he skillfully adapts and finds an uncommon thematic and emotional thread in John Le Carre’s spy novel. Gary Oldman leads a stellar ensemble as retired MI6 agent who is forced back into the field when it is suspected that there is a mole in the British Intelligence agency, and specifically in his particular group of acquaintances. As simple as the story sounds, the film takes several twists and turns that test any audience member’s attention skills as well as toleration of plot contrivance. And though it somewhat manipulates the viewer’s focus in this sense (we spend too much time trying to piece certain elements together rather than being immersed or hooked into the story), Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is still a competent and intriguing film. Alfredson’s direction is steady despite the script’s misguidedness, while the cinematography and editing are supreme–the film looks beautiful yet understated, matching the intrinsic and gloomy tone. The cast is uniformly excellent, as well. Oldman plays Smiley (the retired lead) with such a controlled restraint that it’s exhilarating to watch him walk the line between passivity and integrity. He nails the conveyance of the character’s ambiguous notions and morality. Supporting him are John Hurt, Colin Firth, Mark Strong, and Tom Hardy in finely tuned performances as other constituents of the national conspiracy. Yet it’s Benedict Cumberbatch who comes off as the real stand out as a personal and professional aid to Smiley in the case, exuding a sense of stern loyalty and hidden vulnerability that introduces the theme that the film so well thematizes. Though Alfredson can’t keep the plot points straight, it’s the heartbreaking corrosiveness by the system and how detrimental it is to man and his humanity that Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy cinematizes with the ultimate skill. The final sequence, in particular, haunts with its echoes of this theme (and the tune of the classic song, “La Mer”). And, that, is the terrific redemption found in Alfredson’s adaptation. Unnervingly confusing it may be, but this spy thriller really triumphs as a study of the fractured souls of men under the worst pressures of cynicism, deception, and internal confinement. B+

Here’s the trailer:

Sandra Bullock and Thomas Horn star in Stephen Daldry's adaptation of the beloved book.

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close–Stephen Daldry has three impressive films (and Best Director Oscar nominations to go along with them) under his belt that all deal with themes of adolescence, confinement, and the desire to better one’s current situation. Thus, it’s no question as to why he both was sought after and is involved with the adaptation of Jonathan Safran Foer’s Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, which follows a young boy’s search for a lock that matches the key his father left behind before he was killed in the 9/11 attacks. Newcomer Thomas Horn stars as Oskar Schell, the protagonist who enlists the help of several strangers to find the miraculous match in the five distinct boroughs of New York City in the hectic, uncertain post-9/11 world. I knew I would have hesitations about the film and, yes, there are certain issues I will address, but one is (surprisingly) clear: the film treats the events of September 11th with the utmost sincerity. It’s not used as a cheap manipulation device or plot instigator at all; if anything, it’s a suitable and timely backdrop for a story about grief and what comes after. That said, the film’s issues lie more in the realm of storytelling. Daldy tries a bit too hard to match the film’s pace with his complete characterization of Oskar, a precocious, confused, and honest child (who hints that he has Asperger’s syndrome); while the editing is impressive, this adds a jumpiness to the narrative that is disorienting and distancing. While this mainly lasts for the first third of the film, it would have benefitted from having a more conventional introduction so that the audience can be acquainted with Oskar and his situation much more naturally and effectively. I’m not saying that the film suffers from originality, for it nails the character’s distinct traits and mentality (aided by a wonderful performance by Horn), it just would have added an ounce of more coherency which could have made a much more emotional impact. Other than the direction, the score is beautiful and haunting at some times but is mostly overbearing and trite–it’s presence is unwelcoming as it conditions some well-written scenes into more didactic territory. That all said, I was pleased with the care placed in the film. Despite these flaws, there’s an intriguing and moving story in the center that takes a successful charge for most of the latter part (with special thanks to Eric Roth’s brilliant script). Tom Hanks (as Oskar’s father), Viola Davis, and Jeffrey Wright all give brief but effective turns in the film, but the performances by Horn, Sandra Bullock, and Max Von Sydow are worth really mentioning. Horn is excellent and poignant as Oskar, while Bullock solidly breathes authenticity and humanity in her grief-ridden role. Sydow, as a silent character, has such emotion in his face without ever uttering a word that it’s easy to keep your eyes just on him in all his scenes. Immediately after watching the film, I was certainly moved but left with a conflicting feeling that (over the past few days) has seemed to favor the strengths of Daldry’s work. But I’m mostly thankful that Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close is, flaws aside, a mature study of grief and catharsis without every employing the 9/11 tragedies in a manipulative way. B

Here’s the trailer:

 

Meryl Streep tackles another real-life figure in this biopic of the longest-serving English Prime Minister.

The Iron Lady–“Leave it to Meryl Streep to deliver an impeccable performance in an imperfect film.” is probably a sentence a lot of filmgoers are uttering about the Oscar winner’s newest film, but I think ‘imperfect’ would be doing it a disservice. I was quite surprised that this is actually a poignant, inventive look into the life of Margaret Thatcher, despite the liberties it takes. Streep stars as the titular Thatcher, playing the first female (and longest-serving) Prime Minister during her political career of handling the IRA bombings, Falkland Island crisis, and the end of the Cold War, while also portraying her in her contemporary life as reflective yet dementia-ridden. Technically, the film is gorgeous and distinctive. The cinematography is bold, with excellent hand-held shots and unusual framing to enhance the surrounding of the familiar subject, while the editing is terrific as it expertly ties together her fading memories with real-life footage. Director Phyllida Lloyd, who previously worked with Streep on the overrated and (for me) unbearable Mamma Mia!, strikes up a much better partnership with the actress in this decisive biopic that never strides away from its slightly-critical-yet-still-warm tone. The main problem is with Abi Morgan’s script. It’s highly inventive and original, which is refreshing, but it does tend to invite a few moments of doubt. For instance, scenes involving the older Thatcher seeing her dead husband (the always reliable Jim Broadbent) are quite imaginative yet can verge on preposterous. Other scenes with her in office are powerful and revealing, but mostly based on speculative theories. It’s the same issue that dents any biopic–scenes can crackle with intensity and emotion (and many do in The Iron Lady), but one can’t help but question the authenticity and honesty  behind such exchanges. Does Thatcher really see her husband that way? Did she really act like that in one of her final consensus meetings? If you can let go of the doubt and leave your cynicism at the theater door, there’s much to enjoy. I especially appreciated the unbiased depiction of Thatcher; it seems her politics were expelled from this certain study in favor for a much more human examination–it made the film less distracting, and more thrilling. But, obviously, the best element of Lloyd’s film is the commanding, dynamic, and controlled lead performance by Streep. Come on, you don’t even need to ask. She makes this public figure compelling, shocking, and even relatable with just one look. She’s fantastic and, yes, she deserves the attention she’s receiving, for it’s definitely her best performance since her turn in Adaptation. If you can suspend your disbelief, you’ll find a lot to be intrigued and moved by in The Iron Lady. B+

Here’s the trailer:

Review: The Beaver (2011, Dir. Jodie Foster)

Puppet-therapy is the least expecting tool to bring about emotional resonance, but somehow Foster and Gibson nail it.

The Beaver–Foster’s film opens with a shot of flowing pool water, before cutting to Walter Black aimlessly floating with his eyes closed and mind at incredible unease. Off the bat, you know Jodie Foster’s third directorial feature is going to focus incredibly tightly on Walter’s depression and distance from his family and work life. But what begins as a character study originally blossoms into an edgy, challenging fable on mental illness, coping with such, solitude and ultimately recuperation. Mel Gibson plays Walter, a hopelessly depressed and suicidal father and husband who leaves his family and, hinging on ending his life, finds an alternative form of dealing with his problems—ventriloquism. Walter finds a beaver puppet in a dumpster, and begins to use the furry toy to distance his detrimental emotions from himself. Yet, Mrs. Doubtfire this is not. He returns to his family with mixed reactions, but this isn’t a healing dramedy. Instead, it’s an unpredictable and fairly complex story that follows a trajectory of light humor and dark depths that are impressively contained in a non-judgmental yet somewhat quirky tone. Walter’s story of using a façade to both harbor and shed light on his problems is skillfully paired with his son, Porter, and his attempts to deal with helping out a troubled valedictorian (a wonderful turn by recent Oscar nominee Jennifer Lawrence) and inevitable traits with the father he scorns. The script and Foster’s direction work hand-in-hand in making these two plots compatible but not too obvious—there are times when the comparisons feel a bit forced, but only to deepen the characters, move the plot along, or emphasize the choice of not being alone. Foster keeps the pace consistent and has shot a gorgeous film whose aesthetics compliment the underlying themes quite well—close-up shots, framing, and wide angles are all put to great use in conveying distance and alarming absurdity. In addition, Foster delivers a strong performance herself as a wife and mother trying the best she can to understand and support the problems her family is facing. Mel Gibson is predictably flat-out incredible—it’s the best performance of the year so far, and he makes it look so easy. Capturing Walter’s desperation and optimism in addition to his heavily masked vulnerability and love, Gibson hits every authentic note without an ounce of overt sentimentality. Anton Yelchin also excels as Porter, creating a believable chemistry with Lawrence, Foster, and ultimately Gibson. If there’s any complaint, it would be about the music—I can’t take it when the score is more present than it needs to be and becomes manipulative, and unfortunately that is the case in some scenes here (especially the ending). It could have done with more subtly and silence to create a more empowering effect. The Beaver’s about coping with everyday problems and realizing that sometimes there’s no easy way out—pessimistic it may be, but real it most surely is. Foster’s strong fable on the complexity of coping is anchored by an immensely strong performance by Gibson, making The Beaver a particular yet endlessly insightful film to check out. A-

Here’s the trailer: 

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Review: Meek’s Cutoff (2011, Dir. Kelly Reichardt)

Disclaimer: This is NOT based on the amazing computer game with the same premise...that I might've played a bit too much on my Windows '95 when I was, like, 6. Still a fan.

Meek’s Cutoff–I first saw this film back in October as part of the New York Film Festival, and even six months later it has left me in a trance. I can’t shake it off or pin down its classified meaning–if there is any, that is. Reichardt’s third film reminds audiences that movies don’t always have a singular message, but rather they can vocalize a collage of meanings either directly or ambiguously. This one takes the latter, beautifully and hauntingly telling an allegorical tale of uncertainty, trust, and what it takes to build and destruct the American Dream (just one of the many interpretations Reichardt’s western offers up). Michelle Williams leads the cast as a young wife who, along with other settlers on the Oregon Trail in 1845, follow the chauvinist and confident Meek (a brilliant Bruce Greenwood) along the high desert to clean water and livable land. On the way, they embark upon a Native American who, as they perceive him, can lead them to what they’re looking for or the exact opposite–hellish drought and abandonment. The cinematography strikingly works on multiple levels, as it portrays the gorgeous hills, mountains, and desert of Oregon country but maintains it in a tight 1.33:1 aspect ratio to convey the mental claustrophobia even in the most open of places. The costumes and set pieces are exquisitely detailed and the supporting performances are strong (Zoe Kazan, Paul Dano, and Shirley Henderson in particular each reveal troubling truths of their characters, whether they are representative of American settlement in good or bad light). But the most impressive thing about Meek’s Cutoff is Reichardt’s ability to take advantage of both the landscape and the period genre. Like Terrence Malick, she uses nature not only as a reflective force of humanity but as a character that seeps into the others’ mindsets and controls, tugs, and punishes them, while putting on a period piece whose tale of terrifying uncertainty and gradually growing yet subdued chaos is applicable to any time. Meek’s Cutoff is exemplary of American independent filmmaking, and one that stands alone as a harrowing achievement. A

Here’s the trailer:

Review: Hanna (2011, Dir. Joe Wright)

Saorise Ronan hunts for the kill in Joe Wrights original thriller.

Hanna–A 13-year old girl is trained to be an assassin by her father in the icy woods of Finland and is ruthlessly hunted down by an even colder intelligence agent. Yes, the same man (Joe Wright) who helmed this colorful, sporadic, and unique action-thriller directed Atonement and Pride & Prejudice–that alone should pronounce Wright’s immense versatility and vision. He constructs the film at such a rhythmic pace, jumping from meticulously choreographed fight and chase sequences to smaller, quieter, and more intimate moments that exude both the innocent charm and dark depths of human souls. That may seem too profound to be true, but Wright pulls it off with a terrifically layered script that stretches the revenge-thriller genre and reshapes it as an allegorical and hyper-violent fairy tale through haunting imagery and an electric score by The Chemical Brothers. All three lead performances are also excellent, with Ronan and Bana crafting an authentic familial relationship that wraps heart around instinct, survival, and courage. Yet Blanchett goes beyond impressionable–she’s downright terrifying. If Tilda Swinton’s character from Michael Clayton had a bit more of a violent inclination and southern twang, she’d be close to Marissa Weigler. Blanchett transforms mere intimidation into a horrific yet stoic and subtle state, giving life to one of cinema’s best recent villains. Hanna thrills and entertains on its unusually hypnotic pace, but towards the end it leans a bit imbalanced–it exposes itself, indulging a bit too much in its fairy-tale imagery and becomes a tad bit conventional. Yet Joe Wright’s fourth feature is original, dark, and entrancing despite its minor flaws–Hanna is already one of the best of the year. A-

Watch the trailer below: