Up In the Air

It's possible that "Up in the Air," a comedy about the soul-deadening challenges of our disconnected era, could only have been made by Jason Reitman. After all, he turned teen pregnancy into amusing family fare ("Juno") and rendered tobacco lobbyists likable ("Thank You for Smoking"). So perhaps it's no surprise that he's come out with a lovely Hollywood romance that floats buoyantly along on a sea of sadness.

George Clooney is perfectly attuned to Reitman's tack, adding just a hint of a bruise to his slickly confident executive, Ryan Bingham. Ryan's job is to relieve others of theirs, and he flies around the country firing anonymous employees so their cowardly bosses won't have to do it instead.

But his own employment is threatened when his CEO (Jason Bateman) hires young go-getter Natalie (Anna Kendrick). She suggests Ryan's job could be done via video conferencing, which would ground him for good.

For Ryan, life on the road is the ideal existence. He gets first-class treatment everywhere, and never has to deal with the inconveniences of commitment. But as he faces increasing challenges to his solitary routine, including a relationship with another high flyer (Vera Farmiga), he's forced to wonder if it's finally time to put down roots.

Though the movie is based on Walter Kirn's 2001 novel, Reitman trades Kirn's caustic madness for a wry melancholy that better suits the screen. This version also incorporates our recessionary anxieties, but offers such a smooth ride we barely notice the turbulence until we're back on the ground.

A few scenes are overly broad or abrupt, and Kendrick works a bit too hard to compose her character. But Reitman handles the majority of elements--from big themes to tiny details--with a skillful blend of empathy and wit.

As for Clooney, an unexpected vulnerability deepens his natural charisma, while Farmiga turns out to be his onscreen soulmate. They create a connection that looks familiar, but is miles away from the rom-com relationships we've been trained to accept. It feels real, and in this prefab world, that's a rare commodity indeed.


By Elizabeth Weitzman at NYDailyNews.com

Read the original article here

Elementarteilchen (Elementary Particles)

I've seen a couple dozen German movies over the years, but do not know German media--- TV, books, pop movies, etc. Maybe 'Atomised' is standard fare in Germany? But to me it was unusual. The story was not predictable. It was not yet another version of the same old things. Maybe it is in its homeland, but not here in the UK. So 'Atomised' was a bit exciting and engaging simply for its freshness and uniqueness. And--- it was also very well acted, and the story was compelling as well. So all that adds up to a movie that keeps your attention. Not 'nail-biting', perhaps, and maybe not 'on the edge of your seat', but keenly and raptly attentive.

The story is about two half brothers-- Brother number one a brilliant (and eventually Nobel Prize winning) scientist going through a 3-year detour in his comet-rise to genetic engineering stardom. Brother number two, played by the male lead from Tom Tykwer's 'Run Lola Run', Moritz Bleibtreu, is a charming and probably (?) good looking school teacher--- married, with a baby in the house. But he is a very disturbed sex addict, in the worst meaning of the term. He's also a writer--- maybe an essayist, maybe short stories--- the movie doesn't make that very clear. But it does show him as a neo-Nazi of sorts, producing well-written but unpublishable tracts that rail against blacks and other 'sub races' (sic).

Brother two is incapable of receiving any love or happiness or fulfilment from his wife, and he makes lewd and overtly sexual advances towards his 15 year-old female students. As a teenage boy, in a flashback, he even has a sexual encounter with his own sleeping mother. Very creepy. Worse, if that's possible, he brutally smashes a cat to death during his sexual 'assault' on his mother, simply because the cat closed its eyes when he reached sexual climax--- indicating, evidently, that the cat was judging the boy as disgusting. For that, the adult brother two recalls with a satisfied rage, the ****ing cat had to die.

Was the darkness of brother two over the top? Was it too dark? I don't know. It felt realistic, but was the portrayal intrinsic to the story? I had sympathy for brother two--- he was obviously 'lost', in the worst way. he cried a lot, and the look of despair and horror in his eyes was so intense that one had to feel compassion for the guy. But then the cat killing episode turned me off, and turned me against him, so I felt horror AT him, rather than WITH him.

The women in the movie were fantastic actresses. Brother two meets a woman who is probably 4 or 5 years older than he, and she too is a sex addict. She takes him to weird 'leather bar' kind of sex clubs, and they trade partners and engage in wild and sordid sex. But she does seem to care for him, maybe even love him. Brother two and this lady certainly seem to need each other--- and we get the feeling that they are, somehow, very good for each other. But then she has had some disease of the bones for a long while, but it had been in remission--- but she had not told brother two about it. The disease flares up, and she is left paralyzed in the legs for life--- and we suspect maybe her life is going to be short, as well. Brother two is confused, and while he eventually decides to take the woman in, and live with his love, even if she is crippled, he dithers long enough for her to get depressed and kill herself. Brother two goes permanently nuts, hallucinates his dead lover's presence (oddly, even though he is halucinating, and could therefore dream up any pleasant reality he wanted, no matter how 'rosy' or fantastic it might be, he STILL chooses to see her crippled, in her recently acquired wheelchair, rather than as a whole person), and spends the rest of his life in the loony bin.

Brother one, meanwhile, meets childhood sweetheart Annabelle, played extremely well by Franka Potente, also of 'Run Lola Run' (and small parts in 'The Bourne Identity' and 'The Bourne Supremeacy', as well as the lead in 'The Princess and the Warrior'). Potente is amazing here. This is obviously the kind of part she does best, because here she was believable, compelling, and wonderful. Her character also has some disease, and when she gets pregnant by bother one, she has to have an abortion and a hysterectomy. But it all turns out well in the end--- and she and brother one live happily ever after.

Whew! Oh wait--- the brothers' mother is shown in flashbacks as a crazy and irresponsible slut, who is probably singlehandedly responsible for the brothers' hesitations and mental problems. Interestingly, Michel Houellebecq's main intention in creating the character of the mother was to portray his own mother's hedonistic attitude during his childhood. He had been abandoned with his grandmother, while the mother pursued her hippie style of living, sex and self-pleasure being her biggest priorities.

The movie is not perfect, but it does get points for being innovative, and new. For me, anyway, it was a fresh and intriguing look into a believable world of some very intense people. Creepy in parts--- redemptive and inspirational in other parts. I wouldn't want to see this kind of movie every week--- but once in a while this dark and intense artsy look at things is probably good. Like eating fiber in your diet. I gave this an 8 out of 10.

Ne le dis à personne (Tell No One)

Somehow it falls to the French to do taut thrillers these days. Usually, where an American producer will use special effects, the French use sex.

This French adaptation of Harlan Coben's convoluted thriller (a best-seller) is doomed, by its language, to be overlooked by the majority of English-speaking moviegoers which is a huge shame, because it is a very stylish film that deserves a wider audience. It's strange that an American book has been made by the French, especially one with such obvious commercial potential, but had Hollywood bought the rights, I can't help thinking it would have produced something altogether different.

TELL NO ONE opens on one of those naturalistic dinner party scenes: all glasses clinking and laughter and dialogue just a pitch below hearing. Yet this is a misleading beginning for a film that progresses into a thoroughly surprising and superior tale of a husband's desperate search for his seemingly dead wife. Mystery gives way to puzzles. Puzzels lead to darker ones. Canet executes the set-up for his tale beautifully, placing his couple stark naked, lakeside, and under the moonlight to emphasize the sheer indulgence of their love. Then with little dialogue he changes the tone from romanticism, to blinding horror as Alexandre (Francois Cluzet) hears a scream and tries in vain to save his wife Margot (Josee Croze) but is beaten over the head by her attacker.

8 years later, on her death anniversary, the dedicated paediatrician is still mourning his wife. But after all these years, he suddenly begins receiving emails, apparently from beyond the grave. A link connects him to a public security camera at a particular time which shows him his wife looking older, and apparently still alive, wanting to make contact with him, but in cryptic methods which is baffling because all this starts when the police have finally found Margot's remains at the place where she was murdered. Going by the style of murder, the police easily zero in on a psycopathic killer and arrest him.

This is only the start, and combined with increasingly suspicious police investigators and a string of further murders, lead to the doctor being framed for the murder of his own wife in a forcefully re-opened investigation after so many years and ultimately going on the run. Both to save his life and to follow a mad instinctive idea that Margot may still be alive inspite of obvious, physical evidence.

One of his remaining links with the world and sanity is the girlfriend (Kristin Scott Thomas is possibly even more captivating in French and her poise and cheekbones seem to be a natural marriage with the language and Parisian backdrop). He is forced to abandon his career and home, and undergo a profound personality change. Another accomplice is the 'low-life' (Marchal, best known as a director), who owes the doctor a favour. This heavy dude, in one scene which raises the story to high comedy, is outraged at being put in the shade by Dr Beck's new-found psychopathic tendencies.

With traces of Diva, as well as Marathon Man, this naturalistic thriller holds you all the way to the end. Just watch that long chase scene midway through the film and listen to the soundtrack, distinctly downbeat in comparison to the type of music most American films would use, it nevertheless ratchets up the tension just as well. And there is a mutual moment of revelation for both us and the beleaguered doctor played to U2's 'With or Without You' which sent a small shiver racing down my spine. Each scene is very well directed, but the pacing is relaxed allowing for some tragi comedy.

This film borrows successful elements from many other films, including some recognisable caricatures, but weaves a very cohesive world the the hero bounces around in. Cluzot looks a little like a darker, more rugged Dustin Hoffmann and copes well with the range of emotions he is asked to portray.

What keeps us gripped though, is that we actually care about these characters and their fate-about what really happened that night (which is possibly why I put up with a slightly indulgent confession scene), and despite the fact that this thriller utterly surpassed most of the usual Hollywood offerings; I found myself craving what Tinsel Town does best: a happy ending.

And yeah I'll be watching Department 36, another thriller by this man and see for myself if Canet is the french version of Paul Greengrass.

Gone Baby Gone

For his first time behind the camera as a director, the actor Ben Affleck has chosen a brooding, serious drama about missing children, wayward parents and idealism lost and regained. “Gone Baby Gone” is based on the novel by Dennis Lehane, who wrote the similarly themed “Mystic River,” which Clint Eastwood turned into a modern classic. If Mr. Affleck hasn’t raised his material to that rarefied level, he has taken a satisfyingly tough look into conscience, to those dark places where some men also go astray.

The story wants to break hearts: 4-year-old Amanda McCready, a blond doll, has disappeared without a trace amid the squalor of her South Boston neighborhood. The cops are out in formation, as are the television news vans, antennas raised high and all but trembling for blood. Staring into the cameras, the neighbors eagerly offer ready-made headlines and self-flattering condolences: they’re coming together, everyone loves Amanda. The days tick past and the child’s anxious aunt, Bea (Amy Madigan), seeks help from a local private investigator, Patrick Kenzie, a squirt who looks as if he just dropped out of college and is played without an ounce of actorly ingratiation by Casey Affleck, the director’s younger brother.

I’m not sure exactly when Casey Affleck became such a good actor. Steven Soderbergh tapped him a few years back for recurring third-banana duties in the “Ocean’s Eleven” films, and Gus Van Sant put him in “Gerry,” his 2002 avant-garde feature, in which Mr. Affleck roamed around a merciless desert landscape with Matt Damon, with whom he took turns playing Beavis and Butt-head, Vladimir and Estragon.

More recently he stole the show from Brad Pitt in the western “The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford.” One of the unusual things about his performance as Ford was its lack of sentimentality. He didn’t plead the character’s case or remind us of his own humanity; he just played the role.Most actors want you to love them, but Casey Affleck doesn’t seem to know that, or maybe he doesn’t care. Patrick doesn’t cuddle or kiss up. He takes the job Bea offers despite the reluctance of his live-in girlfriend and partner, Angie (a solid Michelle Monaghan), but he doesn’t look like anyone’s idea of a savior. With his sneakers and jeans and small-man’s swagger, he comes off like one of those toughs who never leave the neighborhood and would sooner swing a bat at your head than at a ball.Mr. Affleck is already deep into the character right from the start, but neither he nor his director let on all they know about Patrick. There’s something about this guy that needles, that helps keep an already tense story on edge.

Despite its terrible question marks — who stole Amanda and why, is she alive and for how long — “Gone Baby Gone” pays closer heed to the enigmas of soul and heart than to clues and guesswork. There are false leads, dead ends, brandished guns and nightmarish discoveries, as well as shadows and controlled camerawork, but mostly there are human frailties and thrown-away, forgotten lives. The screenplay by Ben Affleck and Aaron Stockard whittles down but doesn’t reduce Mr. Lehane’s material, pulling out details and types that stick to the screen, including Amanda’s mother, Helene, played by a ferocious Amy Ryan. Talk about not wanting our love! Ugly in voice and deed, Helene is the underclass mother from hell, a hazard, a druggie, a villain in waiting.Helene is a nightmare, or at least the embodiment of a certain familiar fear: the bad woman (welfare queen) periodically held up as a symptom of some grave social disorder. Working with her supportive, encouraging director, Ms. Ryan plays with this stereotype and our sympathies to the breaking point. Deploying her broad Boston accent like a weapon, she whines and retreats, testing Patrick’s sympathy with each one of her pathetic excuses. It’s a gutsy, sensational performance that adds layers to an already spiky, provocative creation. At first you hate the woman and love the actress, though because Ms. Ryan and Ben Affleck are wise to the ways of scapegoating, you learn why that hate is misplaced.It isn’t all that surprising that Mr. Affleck is so good with his performers, or at least most of them. The film has been wonderfully populated with character actors like Titus Welliver, who plays Lionel, Helene’s straight-talking brother, and Michael K. Williams, one of the outstanding villains from the HBO drama “The Wire,” who shows up here as a friendly cop.

Just as memorable are two unfamiliar faces: the newcomer Jill Quigg, who has a few startling scenes as Helene’s comically, scarily belligerent friend Dottie; and the Boston rapper Slaine, whose cool, dead-eye performance as the drug dealer who leads Patrick right into the heart of darkness adds menace to one of the film’s strongest, most harrowing scenes.

Mr. Affleck trips up now and again, mostly with his older, famous peers Ed Harris and Morgan Freeman, who delivers one of the more unpersuasive performances of his career as the head of the police department’s missing-children division. The director does better with Mr. Harris, who plays a hotheaded detective in a distracting hairpiece, though again Mr. Affleck doesn’t control the performance as well as he does those of the other cast members. He also wavers when he lingers too long over the crumpled faces and bodies of what appear to be real South Boston natives.

Even so, one of the graces of “Gone Baby Gone” is its sensitivity to real struggle, to the lived-in spaces and worn-out consciences that can come when despair turns into nihilism. Mr. Affleck doesn’t live in these derelict realms, but, for the most part, he earns the right to visit.

No Country for Old Men

Cormac McCarthy's characteristically dry, laconic, and sometimes hilarious dialogue brightens the scenes of this superb and chilling thriller the Coen brothers have ably transferred to the screen with excellent help from Javier Bardem, Tommy Lee Tones, Josh Brolin, Woody Harrelson, Kelly Macdonald, and others, including a salty second layer of minor characters who look like they sprang straight out of the sandy soil of West Texas.

McCarthy, unmistakably one of America's greatest living writers of fiction, lives vividly in this, the Coens' first literary adaptation. Some of his best novels, notably Blood Meridian (called by Yale critic Harold Bloom one of the 20th century's greatest novels), are so apocalyptic, so embedded in their glorious poetic prose, as to be virtually unfilmable. All the Pretty Horses, from his Border Trilogy, has been filmed with some success (Matt Damon works in his role; Penelope Cruz doesn't). No Country for Old Men is late McCarthy. Post-apocalyptic, maybe. Jones's disenchanted, aging sheriff says, "When you don't hear sir and ma'am any more pretty much everything else goes." Llewelyn Moss (Brolin), a fairly innocent but opportunistic man, is deer hunting (he's not a good shot; he can't catch one out of a whole herd of them) when he finds a sprawl of wrecked vehicles and corpses, including Mexicans and a dog. There's a truckload of heroin in plastic packages and a briefcase containing two million plus in $100 bills. Moss takes the money and hightails it in his truck.

Naturally there are people who want the money back. Not nice people.

The man they hire to go after it is called Anton Chigurh. Expertly played by Javier Bardem, he's a villain--but with a clear-cut morality all his own--who's invincible and probably unforgettable. Chigurh is like the Grim Reaper: he can decide your fate with the flip of a coin; he reflects the biblical side of Cormac McCarthy, but in a terrible modern corruption. The crooks also hire another hit man, Carson Wells (Woody Harrelson)--a mistake, because Chigurh resents the duplication. He is the last word, the anti-Christ. No man may come after him.

Out in these open spaces of West Texas--El Paso, the Mexican border--where Cormac McCarthy's innocent, pure-hearted cowboys used to roam in earlier decades, things have changed beyond recognition. This is 1977. It's a decade and a half since Vietnam. Lots of drugs and lots of money floating around; you don't hear sir and ma'am any more.

The story turns into a chase, Chgurh after Llewelyn Moss, the sheriff coming after them. And then Carson Wells, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and doomed, pops in to follow.

People have been talking about Bardem's pageboy haircut. Yes, it's creepy. Bardem makes Chigurh both threatening and inscrutable. It seems he'd as soon kill you as look at you. He has a long rifle with a silencer and a high-pressure cattle-killer device with a tank that looks like something a person with emphysema would carry around. It kills instantly with a pop in the head. He also uses it to shoot out door locks.

The film is more tense and suspenseful in the first half or so than in the grimly determined finale (all true to the book, if with a few details cut). By that time a lot of people have been killed and some wounded. This has some elements of the Coen's 'Fargo' and 'Blood Simple' (the latter introduced in an earlier NYFF) and thus with their most powerful work. But 'No Country' is an economical and faithful literary adaptation. Some Coen movies have been thin and frivolous lately. This is emphatically not, sure and riveting from the first few shots. Richard Deakins' photography, making much appropriate use of wide-angle lenses, is superb. Their distinguished source seems to have kept the Coens honest and serious (except for the dry humor built into McCarthy's talk). Unquestionably this will wind up being one of the best American films of the year. It's tight and vivid and suspenseful. It's great stuff. The images sing and stun. There's no distracting music, only the beauty and terror of real sounds.

Present for the NYFF press screening Q&A (moderator Lisa Schwartzbaum): Brolin, Jones, Macdonald, Bardem, and the brothers Coen, Ethan and Joel.

Atonement

13-year-old Briony Tallis is a girl with a huge imagination who loves to write. The film starts at her completion of a play, "The Trials of Arabella", a morality tale on love and the dangers of being too hasty with one's emotions. From her opening line in the prologue, various multisyllabic words that I didn't understand were employed, and the audience giggles at her pretension: evidently, this is a girl whose world is shaped with words, regardless of whether or not she understands them. Witnessing her sister Cecilia dive into a pool as their housekeeper's son Robbie watches after her, Briony pictures as scene she has no understanding of, and, by the end of the day, she will have changed lives for the worse, and she will spend the rest of her life regretting and trying to atone this mistake.

The first act of the film, set in the picturesque country house, effectively conveys the sweltering heat of the British Summer and the mental unrest that comes with it. The camera never stays still, and cinematographer Seamus McGarvey even used Christian Dior stockings over the lenses to portray the heat and its effects on the residents. As Briony starts thinking about what she doesn't understand, trying to write a play of it, Dario Marianelli's haunting score, which features the rhythmic tapping of typewriter keys, reverberates in the background, to continually remind the audience that something bad is about to happen. The dramatic quality of the film is heightened with different events are replayed from different perspectives to show what something has the appearance of being, and what it really is. This device, though not new, works excellently for Atonement.

The second act of the film, set 4 years later, is much grittier and less pretty to watch. Robbie is now a soldier in France, and pines to get back to Cecelia. The horrors of war are not underplayed, and in one excellently-filmed tracking shot, the camera meanders through a chaotic mess of soldiers. Robbie, who had turned out so well before, has not lost practically all of his beauty, and retains only his accent. Similarly, back at home, soldiers with all sorts of disturbing injuries are shown. It is refreshing to see a film that, rather than portraying the war as some sort of patriotic honour, instead shows the horror and suffering that it causes.

In what could only be a nod to David Lean with his country houses, upper middle classes and epic romances, Joe Wright chose for his actors to give performances of the pre-Lee Strasburg era. And the cast rise up to the challenge admirably. As the young Briony, Saoirse Ronan is pitch-perfect, conveying her youthful innocence as well as whiny nosiness. Her sense of knowing about things she clearly doesn't is infuriating, but Ronan prevents us from denouncing her entirely, reminding us that she is, after all, just a child. Keira Knightley, who will be keen to forget her "performance" in her other 2007 venture, Pirates of the Caribbean III, doesn't do anything majorly wrong here, and at times even earns the audience's respect and sympathies as the loyal lover. Romola Garai plays the older, more wise Briony with conviction and a touch of sadness.

But the star of the show is the one, the only, James McAvoy. In the Q&A that followed the screening of the film, director Joe Wright described Robbie as the highest form of a human being, and he is. Even after he is put in the war to avoid staying in prison for longer, he does not whinge about it, but instead, gets through the day with the hope of seeing Cecelia guiding him through. James McAvoy plays this special individual with compassion and understanding. He has the accent and physicality of Robbie down to a T, but, more importantly, conveys his goodness, without ever having to resort to histrionics. McAvoy's performance is a masterclass in subtle acting. In some pivotal scenes, it is actually his beautiful blue eyes that do the acting more than anything, and they speak more words than Briony's ostentatious prose ever could.

There is more than a little similarity between Atonement and The Go-Between. Both tell of love between different classes, and an intruding message carrier between the two. Furthermore, Sarah Greenwood's sensuous set design (in the first act) and accurate war holes (in the second), along with the sound design, which features buzzing bees, works cleverly on a subconscious level to add to the tension. Indeed, Atonement is a technically and visually stunning film. The hues in the first act are almost overly saturated with richness, and this contrasts starkly to the second act, where cold hospital wards and mucky brown war dugouts fill the screen. The costumes are all realistic and accurate, though I personally favour the glamorous designs of the first half, which include a mesmerizing green dress that Cecelia wears. The cinematography, which encompasses long takes, tracking shots, lingering pans all attribute to the visual flair of the movie. But the key stylistic element that stood out for me, was the score. The piano theme is elegiac and melancholy, and the cello and violins also add to the sadness of the romance. Also, the use of a typewriter as an instrument, though started oddly, soon becomes infectious and it even forces its way into viewer's minds, making Robbie's note (and the consequences) unforgettable.

Joe Wright and Working Title have made a film to be proud of. Amidst some incredible scenes (such as an extremely erotic library non-reading session between Robbie and Cecelia). The quality and calibre of films that Working Title have turned out recently have been brilliant (Pride & Prejudice, Hot Fuzz, etc) and Atonement ranks up there along with my personal favourites Dead Man Walking and The Hudsucker Proxy. It is a wonderfully crafted, beautifully lush and immensely moving film that shows, above all, how storytelling can both destroy and heal.