BROOKLYN’S FINEST
(Antoine Fuqua, U.S., 2009)
Review by Chris Chang
Abandon all hope—and prepare for an instant classic of bad-cop-no-donut cinema. Director Antoine Fuqua quickly establishes the predicaments of his three main characters: Tango (Don Cheadle), deep undercover, masterminds a massive drug transfer; Sal (Ethan Hawke) shoots the face off a scumbag colleague (Vincent D’Onofrio) and then takes a bag of dirty money; Eddie (Richard Gere) wakes up and sticks a gun in his own mouth, in what’s apparently a daily ritual-cum-rehearsal. It all happens in about the first 10 minutes, and it’s all in a day’s work for Brooklyn’s Finest.
Audiences have witnessed similar no-exit scenarios, and there will no doubt be the usual complaints involving the intent behind and intensity of the race-related violence (a scene involving a white female sex-slave, drugged and handcuffed by sadistic black men, is particularly suspect). But the film’s remarkable cast helps Fuqua bring his sprawling web of nastiness to another level. The actors seem as determined to survive the production as their characters are to merely survive. The talent of Gere, Hawke, and Cheadle, not to mention Wesley Snipes and Ellen Barkin—the latter in a particularly bravura performance of repellent behavior as a fed—bring depth, complexity, and most important, sympathy to characters who simply don’t deserve it. Gere, most notably, moves through the film with a Zen-like focus that recalls Takeshi Kitano at his stoic-yet-lovable best.
THE ECLIPSE
(Conor McPherson, Ireland, 2009)
Review by Laura Kern
Can a film be haunted? With its distancing long shots, creeping camera, and moodily underlit silhouettes, as well as an aura of otherworldly presence sensed throughout, The Eclipse makes a compelling case for the idea. At the very least, it serves up a cast of extraordinarily haunted characters.
Michael Farr (a terrific Ciarán Hinds) is haunted by the death of his wife, as are his two children by the loss of their mother. And he is now experiencing alarming visions of his infirm father-in-law (introducing the fascinating concept that someone’s spirit can materialize just prior to death). Novelist Lena Morelle (Iben Hjejle), who comes to Michael’s stormy Irish coastal town for the annual literary festival, where the once-aspiring writer volunteers as a driver, was first drawn to the supernatural after seeing a ghost as a child. And if we are to believe anything that the cad says, even her colleague, the pompous married drunkard Nicholas Holden (Aidan Quinn), tells Lena he is haunted by the memory of the one night they spent together in the not-so-distant past.
Writer-director Conor McPherson, better known for his extensive stage work, has no trouble shaking any sense of theatricality. The Eclipse is wholly, if strangely, cinematic; its dream-like tonal and narrative unpredictability, interspersed with a few completely jarring horror-film mo-ments, make for an experience that will, yes, haunt audiences for a long time to come.
THE GOOD HEART
(Dagur Kári, Iceland/France/Denmark/Germany, 2009)
Review by Laura Kern
The English-language debut of the talented Icelander Dagur Kári (Noi the Albino) could pass for a movie made in the Seventies. It’s gritty, washed out, and largely driven by dialogue and character. And what characters! Brian Cox is perfectly cast as Jacques, a crude, hard-drinking, chain-smoking New York City bar owner on heart attack number five. (He too appears to be a relic of the Seventies: check out his car, rotary phone, and cassette player.)
During his latest hospital stay he encounters Lucas, a passive young homeless guy (Paul Dano) not even capable of carrying out his own suicide. But somehow, Jacques sees promise in this odd fellow, who a bit reluctantly accepts his offer of accommodation, and allows himself to be groomed as Jacques’s successor. Or rather, is taught the secrets of how to never increase business: absolutely no walk-ins, no being friendly with the customers, and no women.
The relationship of the characters played by Cox and Dano, more innocent than the dynamic the two actors explored nine years ago in L.I.E., makes for an eccentric buddy-film gone right. That a dog and a duck are also part of the mix further testifies to the sharpness of Kári’s script, which steers the action clear of cliché. Even the potentially schematic introduction of a disheveled former stewardess with a fear of flying (Isild Le Besco), turns out to be another element that appeals to the lost soul in all of us.
MID-AUGUST LUNCH
(Gianni Di Gregorio, Italy, 2008)
Review by Nicolas Rapold
From the co-screenwriter of Gomorrah comes this no-holds-barred story of one man’s struggle, torn from the pages of real life... Gianni (played by Gianni Di Gregorio) lives with his mama, and the fees for her Rome condo are in arrears. In the dog days of August, the building manager makes him an offer he can’t refuse: play host to his mother for a day or two (he later throws in an aged aunt as well). Gianni’s doctor adds another octogenarian to the mix, and the under-occupied Gianni suddenly finds himself catering to the demands of four little old ladies.
What sounds like a dumb sitcom setup turns out to be a very funny, very subtly observed 75 minutes that, whether scene by scene or as a whole, never lasts outlasts its welcome. The old-timers, played by understated nonprofessionals with great faces, are neither cutesy nor eccentric. The comedy comes from their doing what they want to do, with varying degrees of passivity and independence, leaving Gianni to cope and wrangle as best he can. The stakes are low—deciding which room to have dinner in, for example—but Di Gregorio and his cast make the most of things with natural dialogue and timing.
The long-faced filmmaker makes for a perfect beleaguered straight man, glass of wine never far from reach. Shot handheld and mostly confined to the apartment, the film is (despite some mild food tourism) a delightful feat.
PRODIGAL SONS
(Kimberly Reed, U.S., 2008)
Review by Nicolas Rapold
The success of many documentaries at marketing uncomfortable voyeurism does not make the airing of family dysfunction any less of a risky proposition. Kimberly Reed’s feature-length debut deserves attention for her plainspoken reflections on life as a transgendered person and for the bizarre revelation that her adopted brother Marc is the grandson of Orson Welles. But when the tensions and conflicts caused by Marc’s mental illness become the doc’s driving force, Reed finds herself with more material on her hands than one film—or at least this film—can handle responsibly.
Reed begins with her journey back home to Montana for a high-school reunion, where classmates see her for the first time since she was the football team’s champion quarterback. In a voiceover that anchors the film, she speaks movingly of the challenge of feeling secure in one’s skin. Masculinity emerges as the persistent source of trouble, especially with regard to her brother. Marc is a tragic sight: evoking Welles in his rotundity (and drawing tears from Orson companion Oja Kodar during a visit to Croatia), he’s hampered by a brain injury and complains like that guy from your hometown who hassles anyone who left.
His violent resentment of Reed and suicidal feelings produce painful scenes of abuse and depression. While Reed’s own self-exposure shows insight, her presentation of her brother’s suffering comes across as an unprocessed spectacle of misery that hasn’t been adequately thought out. The shortfall makes the doc feel overloaded to a dangerous and troubling degree.
THE SECRET OF KELLS
(Tomm Moore, France/Belgium/Ireland, 2009)
Review by Chris Chang
Rare is the film that appeals to 4-year-olds and medieval-art historians; and brave are the visionaries who pitched the thing to studio suits in the first place; but, lo and behold, here we have it. Regardless of its special-interest-group fan-base, Brendan and the Secret of Kells has enough universal charm and eye-popping dazzle to merit the animated-feature Oscar nod it’s already received.
Brendan, a young novice ensconced behind the fortress-like walls of Kells, is excited by the unexpected arrival of master illuminator Brother Aidan, who comes bearing his unfinished masterwork, The Book of Iona. Conflict arises when Brendan decides to assist the brother, which entails venturing beyond the abbey walls although this is forbidden by his uncle, Brother Cellach (Brendan Gleeson). Cellach’s concerned about the impending advent of the bad-guy Vikings who wreak havoc across the land. But Brother Aidan needs special berries for a unique ink color, so Brendan defies his uncle, and heads off into the forest—which is of course inhabited by sprites and other assorted magical whatsits.
Kells has a decidedly pleasing-to-the-eye, retro-cartoon vibe. The visually fore-grounded characters (decidedly more Powerpuff than Pixar) float above and sometimes amid an elaborately developed Celtic-psychedelic background. The result is an intriguing and rare artistic subgenre—one that actually might be coming to a theater near you.
