If a Tree Falls: A Story of the Earth Liberation Front (2011)

Do individuals who coordinated to destroy thousands of buildings and pieces of property nation-wide for the purpose of speaking out against perceived crimes against the environment deserve to be labeled as "terrorists"? This question is at the heart of the documentary "If a Tree Falls: A Story of the Earth Liberation Front," a surprisingly even-handed and journalistic look into the phenomenon known as "eco-terrorism."

The aforementioned question is one debated by Daniel McGowan, the film's main subject and a man awaiting two life sentences in prison for his involvement in arsons and descructions of property in the mid-1990s through the early 2000s, largely in the American northwest. The film, directed by Marshall Curry, is largely a look back through various key acts of protest by a group called the Earth Liberation Front, or ELF, how McGowan came to be involved with the ELF, and in what capacity McGowan was involved.

At no point does "If a Tree Falls" attempt to persuade its audience that McGowan is not guilty of his crimes. There is no mistaking that he is. Instead, Curry attempts to hook the audience into an ambiguous place by stimulating an intellectual debate as to whether or not should be considered "terrorism." McGowan and others argue that because not one person was killed in hundreds upon hundreds of the ELF's acts, the moniker of "terrorist" is incorrect and inapporopriate. They believe that a terrorist seeks to end human life.

The dissenting argument, led by the U.S. government, makes the case that a terrorist does not need to target human life and that a terrorist instills a state of fear in people, a perpetual insecurity, that the ELF has clearly achieved through its acts at the expense of logging companies, laboratories, and other businesses tied to environmental practices opposed by the ELF. According to one federal prosecutor, "You don't have to be Bonnie and Clyde to be a bank robber, and you don't have to be Al Quida to be a terrorist."

For a majority of the film, Curry is largely successful in maintaining a relative journalistic neutrality that keeps the focus on the debate and forces the viewer to consider how he or she feels about what has taken place. But the revelation of McCowan's eventual acceptance of a plea bargain to reduce his jail time to what would amount to seven years (he is now currently serving that sentence) is damaging to McCowan's character. The plea bargain is certainly understandable, but it wusses him out and any admiration one might have for McCowan seems to slip away.

If it hadn't already. Interviews in the second half of the film show McCowan increasingly questioning the decisions he's made, leading up to his active role as an arsonist in the destruction of a facility thought to have ties to the genetic cloning of trees for paper manufacturing that was carried out based on faulty information.

And then, of course, there's the issue of whether or not the destruction of property is a valid and acceptable practice when one wants to make a point or get something done. Logic would tell us it's not. But Curry also shows us that peaceful protesters acting on their First Amendment rights were systematically attacked in violent ways by law enforcement, pepper sprayed and even having their pants cut so that their genital areas could be sprayed with chemicals. Certainly, that's not right, either.

In the end, though, it's awfully difficult to have a lot of sympathy for McCowan as Curry tosses objectivity aside in the film's final 15 minutes to watch McCowan accept the plea bargain, lose the battle against the government to have the label of "terrorist" removed from him, and say goodbye to his family before heading off to prison. I'm still not certain whether or not I believe the term "terrorism" truly applies; it's certainly not as accurate as "arsonist," and McCowan and his former companions are most certainly criminals worthy of convictions and jail sentences.

There's an old saying that goes "if you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything." What's sad about "If a Tree Falls" is that we see a man stand for something yet fall anyway.

2.5 out of 4

Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory (2011)

I don't normally watch a sequel without having seen the chapters of the story that come before them, but one of the things that makes "Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory" so good is the fact that having seen the two previous films in this documentary series is not necessary.

I have not seen 1996's "Paradise Lost: The Child Murders at Robin Hood Hills," nor its 2000 follow-up, "Paradise Lost 2: Revelations," but "Purgatory" quickly gets viewers up to speed with the back story of the West Memphis Three, a story that seems to be among the most compelling true crime stories of the past 50 years in the minds and imaginations of many Americans. I was, sadly, only peripherally aware of the details of the 1993 murders of three eight-year-old boys and the convictions of the three teens who are now considered to be innocent of those murders.

But the story is clearly compelling enough - and the sense of injustice by many was so strong - that filmmakers Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky (who have filmed everything from the Metallica documentary "Some Kind of Monster" to Oprah's current O Network program "Master Class") have apparently made keeping up with the story of the wrongfully-convicted Jason Baldwin, Damien Echols and Jessie Miskelly their cinematic life's mission.

Without having seen those previous films, I can only assume that the history Berlinger and Sinofsky have, not only with the details of this case but with the three men in jail themselves, is what allows "Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory" to be the compelling documentary that it is. This is not objective documentary filmmaking; its creators clearly believe that the three men were wrongfully committed of the killings. Nor does it go to Michael Moore-style extremes in impressing a version of what did happen on audiences (though it certainly offers up a potential suspect with more than a slight subtlety).

Like the two installments before it, this film is a part of HBO's documentary series. It showcases a decades-long persistence on the part of the filmmakers in tracing the journey of how Baldwin, Echols and Miskelly were arrested for the murders of three boys in Arkansas, railroaded into false confessions, and tried as practicing satanists, a tactic that is surprisingly convincing at times. Indeed, one of the things the film does most effectively, at least in my mind, is helps me rush to the judgment that the three young men appear to be guilty before proving to me that they are innocent. I know that viewers who arrive to this viewing experience with more information about the case than I did probably won't take this same mental journey as I did, but I was shocked and embarassed by how much of perception of their guilt was based on their appearances. They looked guilty to me. Shame on me.

I read Roger Ebert's reviews of this film and its previous chapters to get a sense of what versions of the story each previous film told, and Ebert mentions that the second film pulls out one of the slain boys' stepfathers, John Mark Byers, as the potential real killer. It is an added thrill, I'm sure, to viewers who have followed the whole story to find that in this third installment, the attention turns from Byers toward another step-father, Terry Hobbs, who is linked to the crime scene through the DNA testing of a hair.

This same DNA testing is what ultimately causes the state of Arkansas to realize that Baldwin, Echols and Miskelly did not kill the boys. They call a hearing with shocking speed after the DNA results arrive (this happened just about a year ago) and agree to set the men free under the condition of an asinine plea strategy that requires the men to essentially say "I didn't do it but I'm pleading guilty." The logic, twisted as it is to us, is that by entering this plea, the state of Arkansas is, theoretically, protected from having wrongfully jailed these men for 17 years. They can claim that the time served by the men - including one, Echols, who was on death row - was sufficient for the crime by virtue of those guilty pleas.

But Berlinger and Sinofsky are not subtle in allowing those filmed here to point out that just because these innocent men are now free doesn't mean that justice was served. Jason Baldwin even explicitly states that he might have more luck outside of jail than in getting something done, indicating that this story is not over. And while I'm not sure whether or not I'd enjoy reaching back to watch the first two Paradise Lost films, I'd certainly look forward to a fourth installment in which the now-freed men pursue the clearing of their name and go after the flawed justice system and the state of Arkansas. I'm sure that story is in the works.

Cinematically, "Paradise Lost 3" is frequently blunt, which means that you should be forewarned that it can be unwatchably gruesome in spots, particularly when it plainly offers up images from the crime scene. They are wincingly terrible to look at, but arguably necessary as well.

And we now know not only that the case of the West Memphis Three not only attracted the attention of rock stars like Eddie Vedder and the Dixie Chicks and actors like Johnny Depp (all of whom briefly appear in the film footage) but also Hollywood. Director Peter Jackson has just produced and released "West of Memphis," yet another documentary on the subject (this one directed by Amy Berg).

Do we need another film about this case as it stands right now? I don't know. I find it hard to imagine that anyone could tell the story better than these two men who have followed it so passionately from the beginning. "Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory" is now nominated for the Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature. And after having told the story for over 15 years, that accolade feels well-deserved.

3.5 out of 4

Moneyball (2011)

Every critic seemed confident that Bennett Miller's "Moneyball" would receive a Best Picture Oscar nomination, and indeed they were right. I assumed as much as well, but stop short of agreeing that the accolades are truly deserving. To me, "Moneyball" is a solid and enjoyable film that can now claim its Best Picture nominee status only because of the new rules allowing for a bloated list beyond what should probably be the five most worthy films each year. I enjoyed watching it, was impressed by how engaged I was in a film about a sport that I care little about, and then promptly forgot about it.

Based on Michael Lewis' supposedly un-filmable bestseller of the same name, "Moneyball" tells a true story from the recent past of Billy Beane, the general manager of the Oakland A's who, due to lack of finances, cannot compete in the major leagues with a team like the New York Yankees, the MLB's "best that money can buy."

In a serendipitous moment of opportunity, Beane (played by Brad Pitt), is open and observant enough while sitting in a player trading meeting to notice something in a punky, pudgy young Ivy league graduate named Peter Brand (Jonah Hill). His theory? Beane can also have the best that his money can buy. Even with a budget that is modest by comparison to other ball clubs, Brand needs little time to convince Beane that there is a mathematical formula that can be used to determine if a player is worth the investment.

As we now know, Beane nabbs Brand away from his low-level position with another team and promotes him, and before long, Brand becomes Beane's timid Yoda and Oakland turns around its win-loss record and barrels into the playoffs with nary a big-named player on its roster. It's a classic underdog story from the sports world built for the movie screen.

Without question, "Moneyball" is well-acted, and indeed, both Pitt and a surprisingly good Jonah Hill are both nominated for Oscars, though I would contend without a second thought that Pitt's truly great performance this year was not in this film but in "The Tree of Life." Personally, I could have done without the repeated image of Pitt's Beane throwing metal folding chairs around in impulsive fits of frat boy anger. But maybe that's Miller's fault and not Pitt's.

Miller, who worked with "Moneyball" co-star Philip Seymour Hoffman in "Capote" (a film I liked better than this one), gives us a few moments of lovely cinematography but also throws focus on some tired cliches. In addition to Beane's chair-throwing tantrums, for example, he dots the film with scenes of Beane as a divorced dad madly in love with his teenaged daughter. Each of these instances in the film felt forced. The only emotion meant for this story is the emotion that sports fans feel about their teams. The rest of this movie is, by design, entirely cerebral. Yet Miller feels the need to throw in a cheap attempt at tugging at our heart strings. They didn't work.

When I finished watching "Moneyball," I agreed with all I had heard from those who said things like: "This is a baseball movie for people who don't like baseball" and "This is a math movie for people who don't like math." Indeed, baseball is low on my list of interests and math is at the very bottom, so the fact that I was engaged at all certainly requires me to agree with these statements.

But is this the new "greatest baseball movie of all-time"? I'm not sure I think so. And I wouldn't call it one of the greatest movies of 2011 either. For me, it was merely a solid movie, and I'm left wondering why others see it as more than this. Are we all now delusionally worshiping at the altar of Aaron Sorkin, who co-wrote the script? Are we stunned by the muted and excellent dramatic work of the potty-humored actor Hill? Is this the great Pitt performance we've all been waiting for because nobody is willing to watch "The Tree of Life"? These are all valid questions, I think.

In the end, "Moneyball" is a great rental. It's a smart film, but delivers its intelligence with a side order of cliches. I enjoyed it while I watched it, but I don't find myself remembering much about it.

3.0 out of 4

The Tree of Life (2011)

It's difficult to write about something when you don't fully understand it, so I've delayed my writing of a review of "The Tree of Life" for some time now, but as the film was just nominated for three Academy Awards (all in categories for which I believe those nominations were deserved), it's time for me say something.

When discussing "The Tree of Life" with a co-worker, I suggested that it is the kind of movie that, if you showed it to 10 friends, one would like it. So, does that make it a failure of a movie? After all, hundreds of films of far less quality - those frequently starring "Saturday Night Live" alums, for example - are adored by moviegoers in far greater numbers. I've thought a lot about that. And I've wavered on the conclusions I've drawn from that internal debate.

So what do I think of "The Tree of Life"? Well first, I think it is a true work of art, a piece of filmmaking that transcends its genre and method of delivering information. And I celebrate the vision of director Terrence Malick, who does not seem to have been forced to compromise any of his personal vision when making the film.

But what's wrong "The Tree of Life," oddly enough, are the same two things. More on that in a minute.

There's a difficulty in offering a plot summary for Malick's "messy masterpiece" other than to say that after about an hour of this slowly-paced film expires, some semblance of a plot finally begins to emerge. That plot is intentionally generic and features a stern father (played by Brad Pitt) lording over his modest, middle class household in 1950s Waco, Texas. His three sons fear him and desperately crave affection from him. His wife (Jessica Chastain) fears him, too, and lavishes affection on her boys to supplant the lack of it from their father.

The oldest son, Jack (played as a boy by the riveting Hunter McCracken) seems the most damaged by distance his father creates between the parents and the boys, and is most frequently the object of the father's cold life lessons and lectures on the world's harsh realities. We see Jack as an adult in flashes throughout the film, played by Sean Penn, with a lost look in his eyes. Even if we can't explain how and why, we know that his relationship with his father continues to hold influence over him as an adult.

Brad Pitt is nominated for Best Actor this year for his excellent work in "Moneyball," but I strongly believe that his work in this film is not only his better performance from 2011, but the finest acting work of his career. His ability to communicate the classic masculinity of fathers of this generation is without a misstep; he communicates emotional detachment and profound love for his family simultaneously and understands the conflict that a man has when faced with the challenge of hardening his son for the sake of survial in this world but trying to nurture as well. I never felt the threat of abuse from Pitt, and yet one could argue that the whole experience was abusive.

And not only was Pitt's performance one of my favorites of the year, but the rest of the cast is fantastic as well, which is made all the more impressive when you consider that Malick does not give them large amounts of dialogue or anything that resembles a classic story structure to build their characters upon.

Malick intercuts this family's daily moments with sun-soaked images of nature. The unbelievable cinematography of Emmanuel Lubezki (who I believe deserves to win the Oscar) presents mundane landscapes with saturated colors and awe-inspiring appeal, reminding us that these things were created by an Awesome God. Various cast members pass fleeting and whispered lines of voiceover, all presumably directed toward their Creator. Many of these voiceover moments are in the form of challenging questions: why. And the audience of this film is forced to do what we all must do in real life, which is take in our surroundings, search our hearts and minds, and suggest an answer to ourselves, based on whatever we perceive to be evidence.

Much as been written about the front half of the film, which leaps backward in time to the very creation of life and features everything from micro-organisms to dinosaurs. The best we can make of it is that Malick wanted to show how all of this is connected, and he wanted to do it all in one place. It's a wonder to watch but it's sloppy. The visuals are stunning and kalidoscopic, but at the expense of narrative, almost completely.

This brings me to the two points I made early in my review.

When I said that "The Tree of Life" transcends its method of delivering information, I'm talking about the fact that Malick attempts to do things with cinema that cinema is not traditionally built for, and this is why most people won't appreciate the film. I think most people would agree that it's beautiful, but there won't be a patience or a tolerance for it. Why? Because "The Tree of Life" is film as a poem is to a short story or novel. This is a visual poem, plain and simple. It breathes in the cracks between what we see and the questions we have about what is happening. It lacks a traditional cinematic three-act narrative. It observes existence in non-sequential snapshots.

Movies, on the whole, are not designed to communicate poetry. They're built for stories. If you try to make "The Tree of Life" into a "story" by traditional defnition, it will fail. In other words, the film was not made for the genre and we were not made for it. And yet here we all are, staring at this wonderful work and trying to figure out what to make of it. It feels a lot like staring at a Pollack in a modern art gallery and attempting to explain it.

My second point was that "The Tree of Life" seems to have allowed Terrence Malick complete control over his vision. As a lover of auteur films, this is a pure thrill. But there's a downside as well, and this is the fact that Malick seems to have made the film with little regard for what his audience would - or even could - get out of it. This begs the question: Does a film director have a responsibility to consider an audience when making a film. Or, more broadly, does an artist have a responsibility to create art for an audience? Apparently, Malick doesn't think so.

But if I'm being honest, the cinema is a delivery mechanism of storytelling for the masses. It is, at its core, a collaborative medium of artistic expression, no matter how singular the vision of the director or writer. And in that way, "The Tree of Life" is too challenging of an anomaly to the chosen method of its presentation as a movie. But then, how else could this message be communicated?

I always feel like there's a direct correlation between the quality of a movie and the time I spend after consuming it thinking about it. Many movies are empty calories. This one is not. And by that measuring stick, "The Tree of Life" has got to be one of the most incredible movies ever filmed. But movies are meant to entertain and satisfy on an emotional level. "The Tree of Life," I felt, aimed for the soul instead of the heart, and I doubt many viewers are willing to afford Malick the time and a mind open enough for that connection to happen for them.

A four-star review is usually reserved for a movie that is perfect in every way, or at least imperfect in only trivial ways. "The Tree of Life" is not perfect. It's left me awed but confused, exhilirated and exhausted. But I would watch it again. Multiple times. Because when you strip down the visual poetry and the conceits of a cinematic artist, it's a conversation between a man and his two makers: his earthly father and his heavenly father. And however inaccessible "The Tree of Life" might be, this core message is universal.

4.0 out of 4

Oscar predictions for 2011

Tomorrow morning, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences will announce their nominations for the Academy Awards, honoring the work of films released in 2011.

For over a decade, I've made it my business to attempt to predict which films and performances would garner Oscar nominations, as the film award season has been a great hobby of mine going back as far as I can remember. I'd like to think that I got pretty good at making predictions, too, considering my lack of access as simply a passionate, serious film-lover (and not a professional award season writer). I would read books about how to predict what would be nominated and what would win. I'd devise my own methods for making my choices.

But something I wrote in last year's predictions bears repeating today, and that is the fact that the prevalence of award season blogs and insider information has actually made my job a little less fun and, in many ways, less difficult. Whereas I once had to watch each film and guess what I thought the Academy would support, I now simply have to read five or six trusted sources online and then can shoot down the middle with my predictions, using a law of averages. It's certainly less mysterious today.

Some mystery has returned this year, however, with the rule change to allow the Best Picture category to fluctuate between five and 10 nominees, based on the support shown to each film via first place votes. I am almost certain that everything you'll see me predict here today will be nominated in this category; it's just a matter of how many. So I'll try to predict that number, too, and not award myself full credit for any over/under that.

The format I use for my nomination predictions is the same one I've used for the past decade or so. I attempt to predict who will be nominated in the "big" categories: Picture, Director and the four acting categories. I predict the five nominees and provide two alternates that I think could sneak in. I give myself a point for each one I get right and a half-point for alternates. This used to total 40 points, but now it will total 45 because of the expansion of the Best Picture race to 10 nominees. Then, I tack on what I call "The 10," which is a list of 10 random nominees from any of the other categories I feel certain will be nominated.

BEST PICTURE

I make no genius statements here when I say that filling out the first five nominees - the minimum possible - is easy. I'm also no maverick in predicting that the Academy will likely take advantage of the new rule and nominate more than five. And, not straying in any way from the other prognosticators, I'm doubting that they will nominate a full slate of 10. So how many get in?

Well, I think the following are sure bets: The Artist, The Descendants, The Help, Hugo and Midnight in Paris.

So that's five. I feel pretty good about adding Moneyball as a sixth choice, as it will certainly score nominations for its screenplay and for Brad Pitt as actor.

But there's a part of me that says we'll see a seventh nominee, and possibly an eighth.  If these slots happen at all, I predict that one of them will go to The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. The other will go to either War Horse or The Tree of Life. This leaves Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close and Bridesmaids as the supposed nine and 10 choices, with Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy on the outside looking in. I don't need another alternate when I have this many on my list, but I'll throw The Ides of March on there just to have one.


BEST DIRECTOR

I wasn't feeling certain before but am now feeling more confident that we'll here Woody Allen's name for his first nomination here since 1994's Bullets Over Broadway, and that makes me very happy!

My picks: Woody Allen (Midnight in Paris), David Fincher (The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo), Michel Hazanavicius (The Artist), Alexander Payne (The Descendants), Martin Scorsese (Hugo)
My alternates: Terrence Malick (The Tree of Life), Steven Spielberg (War Horse)
Second guessing myself: There's only one guy on this list I'm not sure about at all, and that's Fincher. He was nominated last year, and he seems overdue for a win, though there's no chance in hell that can happen this year. The more I sit and think the more I feel like Malick could steal that slot. The Tree of Life hasn't been high on people's nomination lists for months now, but I can't shake the feeling that it is a respected work of art as a film and that he'll be rewarded for it. I'm also a tad nervous to leave Stephen Daldry off the list, when every single one of his previous films (Billy Elliot, The Hours, The Reader) has nabbed him a nomination here, but Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close just doesn't seem like it ever got off the ground.

BEST ACTOR

My picks: George Clooney (The Descendants), Jean Dujardin (The Artist), Michael Fassbender (Shame), Gary Oldman (Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy), Brad Pitt (Moneyball)
My alternates: Leonardo DiCaprio (J. Edgar), Michael Shannon (Take Shelter)
Second guessing myself: I think Clooney, Dujardin and Pitt are locks here. Though the NC-17 rating of Shame might off-put some, I think Fassbender is one of the most talked about actors out there right now, and I think they'll welcome him to the club for this daring work, however difficult it is to watch. That leaves Oldman on shaky ground, but I've heard great things and he's overdue. Otherwise, the slot would be DiCaprio's. But J. Edgar has fallen off the radar and most likely, so will he. Shannon seems like a good alternate for Fassbender, should the academy choose to elevate a daring, serious actor.

BEST ACTRESS

My picks: Glenn Close (Albert Nobbs), Viola Davis (The Help), Meryl Streep (The Iron Lady), Tilda Swinton (We Need To Talk About Kevin), Michelle Williams (My Week With Marilyn)
My alternates: Just as everyone thought Kate Winslet would be nominated as a Supporting Actress for The Reader a few years ago, I think Berenice Bejo could be nominated here for The Artist instead of in the supporting category. Truthfully, this is the correct category for her because it's a leading performance and she's more than worthy of a nomination. Assuming she's placed in supporting where her studio wants her, the alternates are Rooney Mara (The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo) and Elizabeth Olsen (Martha Marcy May Marlene)
Second guessing myself: The Davis-Streep-Williams trifecta has been a foregone conclusion for what seems like months now, and most agree that Close will make it, as she was once a front-runner here. That leaves Swinton the most vulnerable but she's a past winner and brilliant in her film this year, which leads me to believe that unless the scenario I posed above happens, she's in instead of Mara, Olsen or Charlize Theron (in the underperforming Young Adult). Kristin Wiig, another name being thrown around, will get a screenplay nomination for Bridesmaids, not an acting one.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR

My picks: Kenneth Branagh (My Week With Marilyn), Albert Brooks (Drive), Jonah Hill (Moneyball), Ben Kingsley (Hugo), Christopher Plummer (Beginners)
My alternates: Nick Nolte (Warrior), Corey Stall (Midnight in Paris)
Second guessing myself: They've all but handed this over to Plummer, and bravo to that. But I'm confident that he'll be joined by Brooks and Hill for playing so jarringly against type and Branagh for playing brilliantly within his wheelhouse. Kingsley was the emotional center of a film that stands a chance to garner the most overall nominations, so I'm going out on a limb and predicting he'll be swept in in place of the more frequently predicted Nolte. And as for Corey Stall, he's my one original, out-of-left-field prediction among everything here, and I had to have at least one. But when a Woody Allen film does as well as Midnight in Paris is doing, an acting nomination tends to follow. And who is more memorable in the film than Stall as Hemingway? Nobody!

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS

My picks: Berenice Bejo (The Artist), Jessica Chastain (The Help), Melissa McCarthy (Bridesmaids), Janet McTeer (Albert Nobbs), Octavia Spencer (The Help)
My alternates: Shailene Woodley (The Descendants), Carey Mulligan (Shame)
Second guessing myself: A lead nomination for Bejo moves Woodley in, but that'd be the only change in a category I feel very confident about.

THE TEN 

Take these to the bank:

1. Original Screenplay: Woody Allen (Midnight in Paris)
2. Adapted Screenplay: Steve Zaillian and Aaron Sorkin (Moneyball)
3. Foreign Language Film: A Separation (Iran)
4. Animated Feature: Rango
5. Animated Feature: The Adventures of Tintin
6. Art Direction: Hugo
7. Cinematography: Emmanuel Lubezki (The Tree of Life)
8. Film Editing: Anne-Sophie Bion (The Artist)
9. Original Score: Ludovic Bource (The Artist)
10. Original Song: "The Living Proof" (The Help)

Midnight in Paris (2011)

I used to find it difficult to objectively review a Woody Allen film because I love his work so much. I love that there are always a few jokes that work on a modern, crass level in his films but they are surrounded by other one-liners and situations which require a deeper level of observation, a greater level of intelligence. I love how Woody Allen movies, no matter what they are about, make some kind of philosphical statement about life here on Earth. No matter how trivial or profound the plots, Woody Allen movies always have philosophy.

But even I was not immune to a late-90s to mid-2000s stretch of lackluster releases from Allen, and for a guy who ran to the theatre for each new release, I started to find myself waiting for the DVDs and letting them collect on the shelf in plastic. And while I'm a firm believer in not judging a movie unless you've seen it, I'm fairly certain I haven't missed anything incredible if I have yet to see "Anything Else."

So then came "Match Point," one of my favorite films of 2005 and in my top five all-time Woody favorites. And then "Vicky Cristina Barcelona." And it seemed as though Allen was just New York-ed out, because with each new European city as a backdrop, the magic was back again.

Magic is the perfect word, then, to describe "Midnight in Paris," Allen's latest and his most magical film since "The Purple Rose of Cairo." So frequently grounded in mundane-but-worthy tete-a-tetes and the difficult-to-forgive mistakes of libinous adults, Allen seemed to have forgotten how much a little fantasy in his films could deepen our search for the meaning of life, rather than distract from it.

In "Midnight in Paris," the "Woody Allen role" is played by Owen Wilson. He's a writer named Gil, smitten with the city of Paris as he and his fiancee, Inez (the glowingly beautiful Rachel McAdams) tag along with her parents on her father's business trip. Her father's devotion to the Tea Party branch of the Republican party, by the way, gives the film its only modern or political flourishes.

Gil is successful enough as a film screenwriter but wants to be a novelist. He's disgusted by a man named Paul (played with delicious arrogance by Michael Sheen), a friend of Inez's who acts as their personal Paris tour guide, monopolizing the couple's time when Gil would rather be walking around the city, particularly in the evening and especially in the rain. This is when he finds Paris the most beautiful. And in the company he's keeping, he's alone in that thinking.

But Gil's company takes a mysterious turn when he goes out for a midnight stroll without Inez one evening and ends up in an antique car with a handful of rowdy partygoers. They deliver him to a heavily-populated gathering where he first speaks with a boozy, flirty young woman and then is soon introduced to her by her husband. The woman, the man says, is Zelda Fitzgerald. He is Scott. As in F. Scott. As in the 1920s.

Without saying too much - because the joy of "Midnight in Paris" is to revel in the figures that populated the Golden Age and appear to Gil here - Gil is newly-inspired to work on his novel after spending his nights sneaking away from Inez and drinking with the likes of Hemingway and Dali. He gives his manuscript to Gertrude Stein and her belief in his promise gives him more confidence than his fiance ever could. He witnesses an argument over the merits of a Picasso painting of one of his mistresses and then falls in love with the mistress, a stunning girl named Adriana (Marion Cotillard, officially in my top 10 favorite actresses). He uses what he learns from the debate to attack Paul when he pontificates about that same painting during a day trip to the Louvre.

As with any Woody Allen film, the cast is filled with award-winning stars and name-draw talents. Surrounding Wilson and McAdams are Oscar winners Cotillard, Kathy Bates and Adrien Brody. But equally impressive are the lesser knowns, particularly the machismo-oozing Corey Stoll as an honor-driven Hemingway.

But perhaps the best character in "Midnight in Paris" is the city itself, and making a city a character in his films is something Allen has been doing for decades. He does here for Paris what he did for New York in "Manhattan." An opening montage is like a slideshow for viewers of the city's most recognizable landmarks. They're filmed in daylight and the montage slowly gives way to evening and then to a rainy night. There is pure poetry in the sequence.

The film is shot by the brilliant cinematographer Darius Khondji, an Oscar nominee for his work on "Evita" who serves as D.P. here on his second collaboration with Allen. (The two are currently working together again on Allen's forthcoming Rome film.) Khondji plays with Allen's signature palate of golds, reds and browns with sensual, rich results. The film is as visually rich as is the script.

On that subject, Allen is most likely looking at his latest Oscar nomination for his screenplay. He hasn't been nominated since "Match Point" for his writing (or anything else), but his blend here of fantasy, poetry and philosphy is award-worthy. It's his most steady mixture of classic Allen themes with movie magic in a long time. "Match Point," as amazing as it was, won part of its glory by being such a departure for a Woody Allen movie. "Midnight in Paris" is as Woody Allen as any of his movies have ever been, making it all the more enjoyable to see it succeed as it does.

"Midnight in Paris" has, shockingly, become Allen's biggest box office performer, ever. And, it should be noted, the film is wet dream for the literati and anyone who majored in English. But it's style with substance, something rare these days. Inseprarable from the plot's unbelievable trip back in time comes a message about the perils of being too attracted to the past. The message is weighty and profound but the film does not weigh it down. Instead, the ideas linger, along with the film's visuals, for hours after watching it.

There's no question that "Midnight in Paris" belongs in the top 10 of all-time great Woody Allen movies. It might even rank quite high within that elite list. But wherever history will place it, I can put it in the context of this year alone and say that you're unlikely to find a movie this witty, this romantic, this thoughtful and beautiful, all year. Merci, Woody.

4.0 out of 4

Woody Allen: A Documentary (2011)

Though not a theatrical release, "Woody Allen: A Documentary" merits inclusion here for a number of reasons. For one, the film is quite long, clocking in at close to three-and-a-half hours. (It originally aired on PBS's "American Masters" series in two parts.) And second, Woody Allen is having a banner year again, and I'll be posting a review of his latest, "Midnight in Paris," soon.

With the lengthy running time, director Robert B. Weide (an executive producer of HBO's "Curb Your Enthusiasm") is able to casually drop in on the majority of Allen's 40-plus feature film releases, showing key scenes from each as they relate to the discussions Allen and members of his casts or inner circle are having about that film or period in Allen's life. It's no surprise that a film of this length is quite comprehensive, taking the viewer from Allen's childhood and early days as a professional joke writer all the way through images of him filming his as-yet-unreleased 2012 picture.

As a long-time fan of Allen's work, I enjoyed lingering in the history of such a legend and perhaps picked up even more interesting factoids about Allen from discussions of his childhood. I was already somewhat familiar with Allen's philosophies on life and death, his work habits, and his personal and working relationships with 70s muse Diane Keaton and 80s muse Mia Farrow. That said, it was a stunning reminder of the productivity and creativity of those relationships to see all of that work stitched together here.

I particularly enjoyed Weide's use of interviews with various cast members from past Allen films. One of the most enlightening conversations is with Dianne Wiest, who, after having won an Oscar for Allen's "Hannah and Her Sisters," appears profoundly lost and feels miscast in 1994's "Bullets Over Broadway" and remains in the role only by Allen's urging and at the expense of Allen's production team. And, of course, the role would eventually score Wiest another Academy Award.

Film scholars address the "periods" of Woody Allen's career: his early years of flat-out, clever comedy with films like "Bananas" and "Sleeper," followed by his more serious, Bergman-inspired period which included "Interiors" and "Manhattan." His late-90s creative slump is explored, as is his recent resurgence with "Match Point," "Vicki Cristina Barcelona" and "Midnight in Paris."

In addition to Allen's successes and failures financially and critically, "Woody Allen: A Documentary" makes it clear to viewers that Allen sees basically all of his work as a failure on some level, his defeatist outlook allowing him to perpetually generate new work in pursuit of an unobtainable excellence. Many times, we roll our eyes when a genius downplays his abilitites; here, we truly sense that Allen doesn't fully believe that he knows what he's doing. And this explains a lot about him.

Allen's profound fear of dying is also discussed and tied thematically to a number of his works, and the template for the "Woody Allen character" in most of his films, whether played by Allen himself or someone else, is not directly explored but can be found underneath everything else presented here.

"Midnight in Paris" gets a lot of screentime in the documentary, and there are times when the film seems as much of a commercial for Allen's new movie as it does a comprehensive look back at his career. And, of course, with such a body of work, many of his films are not included at all, and I would have liked to hear what Allen thought of them. At one point, Allen casually mentions, for instance, that he really felt good about "Hollywood Ending." And yet, that movie appears to have failed. As someone who refuses press tours and home video director's commentaries, I would have loved to hear Allen speak about these experiences in a bit more detail.

Instead, a good deal of attention is paid on Allen's tabloid-fabulous split from Mia Farrow over his new relationship with her adopted daughter, Soon-Yi Previn. And although Woody was maligned by the mainstream media during those years in which a fierce child custody battle ensued, "Woody Allen: A Documentary" paints Allen as almost heroic during that time period due to his ability to compartmentalize his work from his personal life, and thus continuing on his film-a-year pace even during the most difficult times in his life.

I would definitely recommend "Woody Allen: A Documentary" to anyone seeking to understand just why Allen is a true auteur in the film world. The exposure one gains to a large chunk of his body of work certainly creates for viewers a wish list of films they will want to watch next; the documentary certainly sells Allen's body of work and generates or renews interest in in. The non-Allen fan would, of course, find such a long film to be rather painful. And the psycho fan might not get much new insight. Regardless, this is a good reminder of one of America's best filmmakers, and can cause us to be just as afraid of Allen's death as he is of it himself.

Drive (2011)

Combining elements of film noir with generous helpings of both "Bullitt" and "Taxi Driver," I'll bet "Drive" polarized a lot of audiences in 2011. At times, the film even seems at odds with itself, as its slick and silent opening half gives way to a shock of violence that I'll admit I was not prepared for.

But I liked "Drive." A lot. Why? Because it's smarter than most action films out there. And because Ryan Gosling is in it. And because director Nicolas Winding Refn knows how to do style but without completely disposing of substance.

In "Drive," Gosling plays a car driver. He doesn't even have a name, which turns out to be a key existential element to the story. The driver is good at what he does. So good that he makes two careers out of it. By day, he is a stuntman driver for films. At night, on the neon-lit streets of L.A., he's a driver-for-hire behind the wheel of robbers' getaway cars.

Though excellent at both, a heist eventually goes wrong as is inevitably the case in all of these kinds of movies. And when this one does, the Driver learns that a contract has been put on him.

The film is laser-focused in plot but throws in a few interesting side stories. One involves Carey Mulligan as a young woman who's husband is getting out of prison and involved in the criminal underworld of the film's plot. The Driver clearly has feelings for her, and sympathy for her young son.

A more delicious subplot involves Albert Brooks, cast wildly and brilliantly agaist type as a low-level Hollywood film producer capable of great violence. Brooks is riveting in "Drive." His work takes your breath away because the film has him heading into territory so unusual for a typical Brooks character.

There's not much more about the plot that I want to share here, because it's best to experience the film without knowing much more. But although the film has numerous strengths, it truly works because of Gosling.

Gosling's performance is nearly silent for the bulk of the film. A splicing together of boyish charm and thrill-seeking know-how and determination, Gosling's performance here is more electrifying than most you'll see all year, which is even more impressive considering that at it's core, "Drive" is largely a style piece. But if Gosling was fast becoming one of the best actors in Hollywood (and, dare I say, criminally disregarded for Oscar consideration for last year's "Blue Valentine"), this is proof that he's made it. I cannot for the life of me figure out why he is so compelling when, half the time, he doesn't seem to be exerting much effort. That must be the secret, and the reason. This is good stuff.

Refn's direction brings a neon-80s style to the film, from the Driver's jacket to the Los Angeles nightscapes to the 80s synth cheese soundtrack. And because Gosling is so boyishly charming and almost passive in the opening third of the film, Refn is able to shock the viewer into a second half that is difficult to prepare for, and possibly difficult to watch.

Does "Drive" get too violent? Yeah, probably. It does seem to be out of character with all that comes before it, because once the film goes down that path, it stays on it. But maybe people who look at the movie as two contrasting sections and tones that didn't fit together are missing the point. Maybe the point is that this slick, quiet, mostly docile young man is dragged into a world and a situation where only such low-level thinking and behavior will allow him to survive. It is in this way that I sensed some thematic kinship with Scorsese's "Taxi Driver," though Travis Bickle (another driver, by the way), resorts to violence for reasons he believes are for the betterment of society, whereas the Driver in "Drive" becomes violent as a means of self-defense and escape.

Whatever the case, "Drive" is a very interesting action film, shockingly violent and very well acted. Sitting in the middle of a pile of car-related action films from recent years with words like "Furious" in the title and bald, muscular men in their casts, "Drive" turns out to be a much better ride.

3.5 out of 4

The Help (2011)

I hadn't yet read Kathryn Stockett's breakout hit novel "The Help" prior to the release of writer/director Tate Taylor's big screen adaptation, but once the buzz began to circle the film, I grabbed the book and read it quickly - in just a few sittings, actually. It was the kind of book that kept me entertained and involved at all times but never went as deep as it could.

The filmed version of "The Help," despite some talk arguing that it actually elevates the source material, accomplished the same goal in my mind. It was the kind of movie that kept me entertained and involved at all times but never went as deep as it could.

Many of my co-workers read the book at the same time and most wanted to compare and contrast it with the film. Did Stockett write black dialect the way people really talk? Is there something insensitive in a white person's verison of black dialect? (If so, then we need to deal with Huck Finn and a bunch of other stuff!) Is this just another black-people-can't-save-themselves-so-we-need-a-white-person-to-swoop-in-and-rescue-them sort of story?

Those are fair questions.

"The Help" can either be seen as being the story of a young white woman who is forward thinking enough in the racially divided South of the 1960s to not give in to the prejudices of her family and neighbors, or it can be seen as the story of a middle-aged black maid who is corageous enough in the racially divided South of the 1960s to motivate her fellow servant-friends to share their stories with an opportunity-seeking white girl.

Perhaps the problem of the story itself is that "The Help" probably wants to be the latter but is just as easily the former, and the film does not solve this problem from the novel. In the film, actress Viola Davis gives such a powerful, soulful performance as Aibileen, the black maid, and Emma Stone is so frequently awkward and too pretty as Skeeter, the white wanna-be writer, that the weight of the movie wants to shift in narrative favor toward Aibilieen. But Taylor includes so much of Stone in the film in terms of her character's personal life that we're left with essentially a 50/50 split. That, to me, was troublesome to this story.

Thank God for the x-factor, a character named Minny Jackson. In the novel, Minny is hard, angry and tough to like, though her frankness becomes comical and readers root for her in every decision and learn from her more than any other character. In the film, actress Octavia Spencer, a Hollywood bit player, has her coming-out party in what is certainly the film's most engaging and entertaining role. The film bests the novel in its use of humor to lighten the tone, and Spencer drives the funny car. "The Help" is a better movie whenever she is on screen.

I'm certain I haven't done a very comprehensive job of explaining the plot, but I feel like most people know this one by now. Skeeter is kind to "the help" while the other white women lording over their huge Mississippi plantation mansions are condescending and entitled. The women who work for them, always black, are direct descendants to slaves. They touch, comfort and care for the white babies more than their mothers. They are a precarious blend of slaves and mothers themselves.

One woman named Hilly Holbrook is particularly uppity. She commandeers the local ladies bridge club and starts a grassroots campaign among the ladies auxiliary to get a law passed requiring the help to use separate, outdoor bathrooms. "They have their own diseases," she tells the other women.

Aibileen is the dutiful maid to the Leefolt family. She's a strong, proud woman with a tragic past. It's important for her to have her job. Mrs. Leefolt appears to be fair to Aibileen, at least for as long as she can stay out from under Hilly's influence. But the word coming from the high society dining rooms, coupled with the images of segreation and political turmoil on the TV remind Aibileen that things are getting worse.

Skeeter takes a job at a Jackson newspaper writing a cleaning column. She's out of her league and relies on Aibileen for help. This soon turns into an idea for a book. Skeeter convinces Aibileen, under the protection of anonymity, to talk about what it's like to be the help. She encourages Aibileen to wrangle other women to participate in the discussion as well. Before long, Aibileen even comes to believe in what they are doing.

Reluctantly, Minny is the first to come on board, but her stories are becoming so legendary in the neighborhood that her anonymity would be more difficult to protect. And outside of this work, the recently-fired Minny has taken up a new job for a somewhat-crazy white lady on the outskirts of town named Ceelia Foote, who before long becomes the film's most sympathtic character.

The film's triumph lies in its acting. Davis is perfect for the part of Aibileen and gives a fully-formed and lived-in performance. She provides the film with its dramatic grounding and is riviting at all times, though I must admit that I'm not convinced she was more powerful here than in her 10 minutes of Oscar-nominated screen time in "Doubt." Nonetheless, she is excellent.

And, as I've mentioned before, this is Spencer's movie. I couldn't wait for her to show up on screen. Her Minny is a take-no-sass firecracker, and in one of the film's key moments, Spencer is able to milk more laughs with the drop of eyes' focus than most actors could achieve with a solid delivery of a well-written line.

I'm wondering, in retrospect, if Spencer is too good at times and shifts the tone away from the real seriousness of the social climate of the time. "The Help" is "civil rights-lite." This was the novel's problem and it does not get fixed here. Taylor's tempered blend of the comic with the dramatic keeps the film in a TV-movie-of-the-week place, never allowing it the weight it deserves.

Perhaps this is why, for me, some of the most heartbreaking moments in "The Help" come not from the overburdoned black maids but from the character of Celia and a powerful performance by Jessica Chastain. Celia is an outsider, somewhat inexplicably. In moments that resemble the deep South's "Mean Girls," she is kept out of the loop and treated condescendingly. Her life is sad, and her eventual connection with Minny is touching. This, for me, gave "The Help" more of an emotional center than the race issues of the film.

I enjoyed "The Help." I was involved in it the entire time. I laughed a lot. I wish I could say I was moved to tears, but I was not. I think I should have been. It was enjoyable. It looked great. It was a little too long. The acting was wonderful. When I add up all of these somewhat generic but true phrases, "The Help" ends up being a solid, if not amazing, movie.

3.0 out of 4