Ooooh, we're just too nice to you:
Charlie Wilson's War Political movies about backroom negotiations need not be dry or heavy-handed, as Charlie Wilson's War delightfully proves. Based on the true story of playboy congressman Wilson's efforts to fund Afghanistan's defense against the Soviet invasion of the 1980s, the film is borne along on breezy attitude and a peppery script by West Wing scribe Aaron Sorkin. Wilson, played by Tom Hanks (who also produced), is the perfect hero for this kind of tale, because there's nothing perfect or heroic about him: He's a highball-swilling, fanny-pinching gadabout who becomes radicalized on the issue of helping the Afghans against their mighty aggressor. He has help in the form of a right-wing Texas anti-Communist (Julia Roberts) with a genius for raising money, and a sardonic CIA operative (Philip Seymour Hoffman, stealing the show) who lacks all the social skills Wilson has in abundance. Sorkin's syncopated speech is just the ticket for director Mike Nichols, who understands exactly how to keep this kind of political comedy popping (the complicated story comes in at a hair over 90 minutes, amazingly). Some scoundrels are worth watching, and the movie's Charlie Wilson is one of them.
The Savages It's almost impossible to describe The Savages in a way that makes it sound as richly engaging and enjoyable as it is. The story sounds bleak: Two unhappy siblings--Wendy (Laura Linney, You Can Count on Me) and Jon Savage (Philip Seymour Hoffman, Capote)--are forced to grapple with their dying father (Philip Bosco, Damages) as he slips into dementia. But this spare outline doesn't capture the wealth of human detail that the script and performances contain. Linney and Hoffman vividly portray the sort of cluttered, precarious relationship that brothers and sisters can have, thick with past grievances but also unspoken affections and connections that can't even be articulated. As Wendy and Jon struggle to make some kind of peace with their difficult father, watching these wonderfully understated yet compelling actors is a pleasure unto itself. But the script and direction deserve these actors; filmmaker Tamara Jenkins (Slums of Beverly Hills) finds honest emotion and sly, sideways humor in the starkness of mortality. She doesn't force any easy epiphanies on her story, but lets the characters find solace through their own clumsy efforts. Anyone who appreciates the messiness of humanity--the territory that Hollywood movies seem to have surrendered to smart indie films like The Squid and the Whale, Little Children, or The Good Girl--will find The Savages a smart, genuine, and empathic portrait of life.
Cloverfield One of the first things a viewer notices about Cloverfield is that it doesn't play by ordinary storytelling rules, making this intriguing horror film as much a novelty as an event. Told from the vertiginous point-of-view of a camcorder-wielding group of friends, Cloverfield begins like a primetime television soap opera about young Manhattanites coping with changes in their personal lives. Rob (Michael Stahl-David) is leaving New York to take an executive job at a company in Japan. At his goodbye party in a crowded loft, Rob’s brother Jason (Mike Vogel) hands a camcorder to best friend Hud (T.J. Miller), who proceeds to tape the proceedings over old footage of Rob’s ex-girlfriend, Beth (Odette Yustman)--images shot during happy times in that now-defunct relationship. Naturally, Beth shows up at the party with a new beau, bumming Rob out completely. Just before one's eyes glaze over from all this heartbreaking stuff (captured by Hud, who's something of a doofus, in laughably shaky camerawork), the unexpected happens: New York is suddenly under attack from a Godzilla-like monster stomping through midtown and destroying everything and everybody in sight. Rob and company hit the streets, but rather than run with other evacuees, they head toward the center of the storm so that Rob can rescue an injured Beth. There are casualties along the way, but the journey into fear is fascinating and immediate if emotionally remote--a consequence of seeing these proceedings through the singular, subjective perspective of a camcorder and of a story that intentionally leaves major questions unanswered: Who or what is this monster? Where did it come from? The lack of a backstory, and spare views of the marauding creature, are clever ways by producer J.J. Abrams and director Matt Reeves to keep an audience focused exclusively on what’s on the screen. But it also makes
Cloverfield curiously uninvolving. Ultimately, Cloverfield, with its spectacular effects brilliantly woven into a home-video look, is a celebration of infinite possibilities in this age of accessible, digital media.
Charlie Wilson's War Political movies about backroom negotiations need not be dry or heavy-handed, as Charlie Wilson's War delightfully proves. Based on the true story of playboy congressman Wilson's efforts to fund Afghanistan's defense against the Soviet invasion of the 1980s, the film is borne along on breezy attitude and a peppery script by West Wing scribe Aaron Sorkin. Wilson, played by Tom Hanks (who also produced), is the perfect hero for this kind of tale, because there's nothing perfect or heroic about him: He's a highball-swilling, fanny-pinching gadabout who becomes radicalized on the issue of helping the Afghans against their mighty aggressor. He has help in the form of a right-wing Texas anti-Communist (Julia Roberts) with a genius for raising money, and a sardonic CIA operative (Philip Seymour Hoffman, stealing the show) who lacks all the social skills Wilson has in abundance. Sorkin's syncopated speech is just the ticket for director Mike Nichols, who understands exactly how to keep this kind of political comedy popping (the complicated story comes in at a hair over 90 minutes, amazingly). Some scoundrels are worth watching, and the movie's Charlie Wilson is one of them.
The Savages It's almost impossible to describe The Savages in a way that makes it sound as richly engaging and enjoyable as it is. The story sounds bleak: Two unhappy siblings--Wendy (Laura Linney, You Can Count on Me) and Jon Savage (Philip Seymour Hoffman, Capote)--are forced to grapple with their dying father (Philip Bosco, Damages) as he slips into dementia. But this spare outline doesn't capture the wealth of human detail that the script and performances contain. Linney and Hoffman vividly portray the sort of cluttered, precarious relationship that brothers and sisters can have, thick with past grievances but also unspoken affections and connections that can't even be articulated. As Wendy and Jon struggle to make some kind of peace with their difficult father, watching these wonderfully understated yet compelling actors is a pleasure unto itself. But the script and direction deserve these actors; filmmaker Tamara Jenkins (Slums of Beverly Hills) finds honest emotion and sly, sideways humor in the starkness of mortality. She doesn't force any easy epiphanies on her story, but lets the characters find solace through their own clumsy efforts. Anyone who appreciates the messiness of humanity--the territory that Hollywood movies seem to have surrendered to smart indie films like The Squid and the Whale, Little Children, or The Good Girl--will find The Savages a smart, genuine, and empathic portrait of life.
Cloverfield One of the first things a viewer notices about Cloverfield is that it doesn't play by ordinary storytelling rules, making this intriguing horror film as much a novelty as an event. Told from the vertiginous point-of-view of a camcorder-wielding group of friends, Cloverfield begins like a primetime television soap opera about young Manhattanites coping with changes in their personal lives. Rob (Michael Stahl-David) is leaving New York to take an executive job at a company in Japan. At his goodbye party in a crowded loft, Rob’s brother Jason (Mike Vogel) hands a camcorder to best friend Hud (T.J. Miller), who proceeds to tape the proceedings over old footage of Rob’s ex-girlfriend, Beth (Odette Yustman)--images shot during happy times in that now-defunct relationship. Naturally, Beth shows up at the party with a new beau, bumming Rob out completely. Just before one's eyes glaze over from all this heartbreaking stuff (captured by Hud, who's something of a doofus, in laughably shaky camerawork), the unexpected happens: New York is suddenly under attack from a Godzilla-like monster stomping through midtown and destroying everything and everybody in sight. Rob and company hit the streets, but rather than run with other evacuees, they head toward the center of the storm so that Rob can rescue an injured Beth. There are casualties along the way, but the journey into fear is fascinating and immediate if emotionally remote--a consequence of seeing these proceedings through the singular, subjective perspective of a camcorder and of a story that intentionally leaves major questions unanswered: Who or what is this monster? Where did it come from? The lack of a backstory, and spare views of the marauding creature, are clever ways by producer J.J. Abrams and director Matt Reeves to keep an audience focused exclusively on what’s on the screen. But it also makes Cloverfield curiously uninvolving. Ultimately, Cloverfield, with its spectacular effects brilliantly woven into a home-video look, is a celebration of infinite possibilities in this age of accessible, digital media.
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