Movie Loner

FADE IN:

HIGH ANGLE SHOT of a hooded MAN jogging on a snow covered Central Park trail. CAMERA FOLLOWS as the man runs briskly along the jogging path. Snow gently falls as he continues down the winding path. He passes through a tunnel, then doubles back. Reentering the tunnel, the man slows to a stop. Bent over at the knees, he struggles to catch his breath. Suddenly, he collapses. The man is dead. CAMERA PULLS back to a LONG SHOT of the tunnel, revealing a picturesque winter scene.

This is how the film Birth begins. What follows is an astonishing story I won’t soon forget.

Flash forward 10 years after the opening scene. The dead man’s widow, Anna (a short-haired Nicole Kidman), is preparing to remarry. Her future is soon altered after a mysterious 10-year-old boy appears claiming to be her dead husband, Sean. Anna and her fiancee Joseph confront the boy’s parents in hopes of ending the cruel charade. However, the boy (also named Sean) won’t go away. Anna and her family conduct a thorough interrogation; Sean’s answers lead Anna to conclude he is telling the truth.

Anna’s confusion turns to love as she believes the boy to be a reincarnation of Sean. She brings him into her home, causing a rift with a threatened Joseph. Despite family misgivings, Anna sets about making a life with young Sean. A surprising revelation disrupts her plans and calls into question Sean’s authenticity. Is this boy who he says, or is he making the whole thing up?

Director Jonathan Glazer does the impossible. He channels the legendary Stanley Kubrick and creates a moving exploration of true love. Anna is captivated by the boy’s mind, his essence, not his body. She looks into his soul and sees the man she thought to be long dead. A haunting score by Alexandre Desplat contributes greatly to the eerie atmosphere. Birth is a mesmerizing achievement in film.

The trailer for Birth:

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Before he became the king of awful screwball comedies, Ben Stiller chose interesting roles. Flirting with Disaster, Your Friends & Neighbors, and The Royal Tenenbaums to name a few. Instead of playing dodgeball and voicing cartoons, Stiller actually carved-out original comedic characters. One of his best is in Zero Effect, a hidden gem of a movie starring Bill Pullman.

Stiller plays Steve Arlo, frustrated legal liaison to the World’s Greatest Private Detective, Daryl Zero (Pullman), a neurotic recluse whose crime-solving abilities are trumped only by his perturbing oddities. Arlo is a sort-of reluctant Watson to Zero’s curious Sherlock. Their latest client is Gregory Stark (Ryan O’Neal), a wealthy businessman being blackmailed by unknown persons. The case takes the dynamic duo to Portland, Oregon where Zero quickly begins to unravel the mystery.

While Arlo’s patience with his boss wanes, Zero narrows his list of suspects to quiet paramedic Gloria Sullivan (Kim Dickens). The normally sharp-sensed detective is thrown off kilter by the subtle charms of the personable Gloria. Zero uses his awkward charisma to pull Gloria closer, but finds himself falling for her. The guarded Gloria hints at a past tragedy which leads Zero back to Gregory Stark, a pompous tycoon with something to hide.

There’s very little wrong with this movie. An original dark comedy, Zero Effect features a clever script and a host of top-notch performances. Pullman delivers the goods as the enigmatic Daryl Zero, a fresh character deserving of his own series. Also worth mentioning is Kim Dickens, an unheralded actress who is outstanding in everything she does. Adding to the heap of accolades is an eclectic soundtrack that includes Elvis Costello, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, and Esthero. See this film; you won’t be disappointed.

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I’d like to pass along thanks to Observations from Missy’s Window for including my post on The Wire in her Carnival of Cinema. There’s lots of good stuff over there, so take a look.

Here’s the link.

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Victor Nunez is one of those filmmakers who goes unnoticed. He gave Ashley Judd her breakthrough role in Ruby in Paradise, and guided Peter Fonda to a Best Actor nomination in Ulee’s Gold. He produces, writes, directs, and even operates the camera on the majority of his projects. His most recent effort, Coastlines, is another small-town Florida story about characters at a crossroads. Not his best movie, but still worth seeing.

Sonny Mann (Timothy Olyphant) just returned home after a stint in jail. Welcoming Sonny’s return are his father, and best friends, Dave and Ann Lockhart (Josh Brolin and Sarah Wynter). Less than thrilled to see Sonny are his old crime buddies, Eddie Vance and his Uncle Fred. The Vances owe Sonny $200,000 but have no intention of paying. Instead, they blow up Sonny’s house, killing his father. A wounded Sonny moves in with Dave, Ann and their two girls to recover.

Dave, a local cop, tries to convince Sonny to stay away from the Vance boys. An angry Sonny ignores Dave and plots his revenge. Meanwhile, dormant feelings between Sonny and Ann resurface. Bored with her dull life, Ann finds the brooding Sonny hard to resist. While growing closer to Ann, Sonny unhinges a dangerous plan to take out the Vances. Dave, unaware of the affair, risks himself to save his friend.

Olyphant and Brolin deliver strong performances playing counterparts in love with the same woman. Nunez is very adept at nuance. He avoids hack plot twists, electing to let the straightforward story unfold. The Florida landscape is not as prevalent as in his previous films, but he still manages to deftly capture the coastal beauty of our southern most state. Like all his work, Coastlines is a labor of love for Nunez. Despite meager budgets he always produces quality movies. Coastlines is no exception.

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Ever wonder what’s in that hamburger your eating? How about that glass of water? The deodorant your using? Shampoo? Soap? Do you smell fumes? Am I making you nervous? Well, consider it a peak inside the head of Carol White, timid suburban housewife and protagonist of Writer/Director Todd Haynes’ absorbingly weird film Safe. Classified as drama, I’d put this movie in the horror category. It’s damn creepy.

Carol lives a normal life. She’s married to Greg (Xander Berkeley), has a stepson Rory, and resides in a beautiful southern California home. Her daily routine consists of running errands and visiting with friends. The most exciting thing she deals with is a wrong colored couch delivered to her house. Carol seems out of place; something is missing in her world.

Carol’s monotony splits apart when she starts feeling ill. Headaches, nosebleeds, and seizures take hold of her frail body. Her perplexed doctor tells her she’s physically healthy. A psychiatrist offers no explanation. She sees an allergist who diagnoses her as being “environmentally ill.” Her immune system is being ravaged by society’s hidden toxins. A television commercial leads her to Wrenwood, a New Mexico retreat run by a new age Guru specializing in treating people with Carol’s condition.

Julianne Moore plays Carol with equal parts pathos and skepticism. Is she really ill, or does her mundane, lonely life make her sick? Todd Haynes never provides an answer. He lays out evidence and leaves it for us to decide. There’s little doubt that toxins exist, but can they make a person allergic to the surrounding environment? Are we contributing to the destruction of our own immune systems? I don’t know, but watching this film will make you feel anything but safe.

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In English, Amores Perros loosely translates to “Love’s a Bitch.” Crass as that may sound, I would say that sentiment is accurate. Love should be easy, but it never is. This film vividly illustrates that point better than any of those self-help dopes on television. When the decade wraps up in a couple years, I’ll have a difficult time leaving Amores Perros off my “best of” list. It’s that good.

A horrific car crash sets the plot in motion. Dog fighters Octavio and Jorge are being pursued by thugs. Gorgeous supermodel Valeria is heading home to her new apartment. Vagrant/hitman El Chivo happens to be passing by. When Octavio’s car collides with Valeria’s, a series of interconnected tragedies follow. Jumping back and ahead in time, three stories unfold, and three lives are irrevocably changed.

In an interesting twist, dogs prove vital to each character’s existence. Cofi, Octavio’s Rottweiler, earns his owner status in the brutal sport of dogfighting. Cofi’s success ultimately leads to Octavio’s undoing. Valeria’s little dog Richie provides much needed comfort in her post-accident recovery. However, Richie’s entrapment below the apartment floorboards is a sad harbinger of Valeria’s fate. El Chivo’s only friends are a gaggle of strays that trail him in his wanderings. His compassion for animals, especially those in need, pushes him to leave his violent ways behind.

Director Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu’s and writer Gulliermo Arriaga’s collaboration results in an intense, often bleak movie. The three-story structure melds coherently, set against a brimming Mexico City backdrop. Inarritu and Arriaga have since made 21 Grams and Babel, employing similar plot structures with mixed results. Amores Perros stands out. The pace is kinetic, the acting unrestrained but true. This put Gael Garica Bernal on the map; his portrayal of the sensitive but doomed Octavio is memorable. Give this film a look, even if subtitles annoy you.

The trailer for Amores Perros:

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My Top 7 Titles of 2007 post just appeared on The Guru’s Movie and Tube Reviews blog carnival. Guru has a good site, so check it out.

Here’s the link.

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“I’ll do what I can to help y’all. But, the game’s out there, and it’s play or get played. That simple.”

- Omar

I normally write about movies here, but this is a special occasion. The best television show I’ve ever seen has ended its five season run. That show was The Wire. Never heard of it? Or maybe you have, but just never got around to checking it out. Perhaps you’re a loyal fan like me. If not, you missed out because this seminal series depicted life in America better than any ho-hum sitcom or recycled drama ever could. On the surface it appeared to be about cops and drug dealers. This was a clever guise. The Wire was really about urban decay, failing education, corrupt politics, declining morals, fading family structure, and so much more. Oh yeah, it was about cops and drug dealers too.

America is in trouble. Watch a few episodes and you can’t help but reach this conclusion. Life, not just life on the street, is presented as a game. Like Omar so eloquently reveals in the above quote, “it’s play or get played.” If you don’t know the rules, you’re finished. Whether slingin’ on the corner or climbing the political ladder at city hall, forget the game, you’ll end up a casualty.

The Wire offered a multifaceted view of said game through the eyes of its disparate characters: McNulty, the smart, driven detective who drowned his disgust with police hierarchy in a bottle of J&B; Bubbs, the homeless street hustler who hocked copper and bootleg DVDs to feed his drug addiction; Stringer Bell, the drug syndicate VP who attended business school and broke bread with senators to rise above the level of street hood; Omar, the savvy shotgun-wielding Robin Hood who robbed the dealers to earn a living. These are just a few of the memorable inhabitants of The Wire. That’s not to ignore the forgotten corner kid, the angry, underpaid beat cop, the smarmy grandeur-seeking politician, or the vindictive, power-mad drug lord. They were all in the game, they knew the rules, but rules change. The ability to adapt to change was the key to their survival.

The series tested it characters by throwing up moral barriers. Was it acceptable to commit a wrong in order to make a right? Was it heroic to disregard one’s conscience to make a difference? Should a detective fabricate a serial killer to attain the necessary resources to topple a drug kingpin? Should a mayor financially suffocate a police department and school system to win a governor’s seat? Should a police commissioner turn a blind eye to corruption to save himself from public humiliation? Should a state senator accept dirty drug money to finance a reelection campaign? Should a street thug who only kills pushers get a free pass? The Wire didn’t provide simple answers to complex questions. As in life, there are no easy answers.

The Homicide cops used the term “real police,” in reference to dedicated detectives; the guys who worked the crime scene, followed the evidence, and closed the case; not the guys shrouded in apathy who sat on their asses until their pension kicked in. Creator David Simon fashioned The Wire into real television. Well written, powerfully acted, it handled edgy subject matter with passion and intelligence. It told the story of Baltimore, not Philly, Miami or L.A., but Baltimore. Could the series have been set in those other cities? Yes, but it wouldn’t have been the same. The Wire belonged to Baltimore and its fraternities: the police, the bureaucrats, and the gangsters. Together, these groups formed one enormous dysfunctional family. A family battered by lies and hypocrisy, but a family nonetheless. A family that lived in Baltimore, lived in America, and lived in the imperfect world of The Wire.

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