Albert Nobbs

Passing Strange
Glenn Close Outdoes Streep
By Cole Smithey

Disclosure: I've never been a fan of Glenn Close. I always considered her a poor man's Meryl Streep. I can't think of a single role she’s played that wouldn't have been improved upon if Streep had played it instead. However, Glenn Close's muted, carefully nuanced portrayal of Albert Nobbs is a career-defining performance that commands the deepest regard and, for what it's worth, blew me away.

Director Rodrigo García’s exquisitely crafted period drama set in 19th century Ireland is based on a short story by Irish author George Moore. "Albert Nobbs" is a socially oppressed woman so desperate to survive economically that she dresses and behaves as a man. The asexual Albert has worked as a quiet live-in waiter/butler at the elite Morrison’s Hotel in Dublin for more than 20 years. Her androgynous looks make the subterfuge possible. Lonely Albert—the only name she goes by-- pinches every penny of her wages and tips, keeping careful record of the savings she stashes under a loose floorboard inside her tiny room. Albert's tightly held secret is threatened when she is forced to allow Hubert Page, a contract painter working in the hotel, to share her bed for a night. 

Spoiler alert: Hubert (Janet McTeer) is as adroit at hiding her sexuality as Albert. So much so that she has succeeded in establishing a relatively comfortable lesbian lifestyle with her partner, sufficiently obfuscated from the public eye. Albert begins to imagine how she might create her own unique arrangement with fellow hotel service worker Helen Dawes (Mia Wasikowska). She imagines opening a tobacco shop where the couple can live and work together. The much younger Helen—she’s barely a day over 18—is already wrapped up in a fresh romance with Joe (Aaron Johnson), her unreliable boyfriend. Joe has recently been hired to work in the hotel as a handyman. Albert unwisely ignores the obvious obstacle Joe represents to woo Helen with practical-minded dates over which she hopes to advance her idea of entering into an arrangement that necessarily involves marriage.

As such, the story hits its stride of aspirational vitality in Albert’s active daydream of putting her life’s savings to use in a place where she can enjoy economic prosperity and companionship for the first time in her life. Rodrigo García’s flawless depiction of Albert’s suddenly awakened inner emotional life is the story’s treasured seed of hope and happiness that must be transformed under the constraints of a brittle reality.

Glenn Close famously played the same role in “The Singular Life of Albert Nobbs,” a 1982 Off Broadway production directed by Simone Bemmussa; she won an Obie. This time she is surrounded by terrific supporting efforts by Janet McTeer, Mia Wasikowska, and Brendan Gleeson.

“Albert Nobbs” falls into the zeitgeist of female-themed survival films such as the Angelina Jolie-directed Bosnian war examination “In the Land of Blood and Honey”. Equal parts character study and social commentary, “Albert Nobbs” is a melancholy film of enormous power that could easily slip through the cracks without the aid of the Oscar nominations it deserves. The story is an original one that doesn’t pander to its audience, as Hollywood films are famous for doing. ”Albert Nobbs” is an uncompromising and rigorous movie that dismisses conventional compositional devices to the delight of audiences seeking intellectual and emotional depth in their cinematic adventures. Don’t miss “Albert Nobbs.”

Rated R. 114 mins. (A) (Five Stars - out of five/no halves)

We Bought a Zoo

Crowd-Pleaser
Cameron Crowe Does the Thing He Does
By Cole Smithey

Cameron Crowe casts a heart-warming cinematic spell that will milk many a tear from its widespread target audience. However calculated to meet the demands of family-friendly holiday movie fare, "We Bought a Zoo" does everything it sets out to achieve. Some supporting characters, such as Patrick Fugit's zoo-keeper Robin Jones, get short shrift but it's all in the interest of keeping the potentially overpopulated story moving toward its intended goal of family unity.

Matt Damon is likeable as ever as Benjamin Mee, a father of two attempting to reinvent his family after the recent loss of his wife. Benjamin's 13-year-old son Dylan (Colin Ford) is acting out at school. Dylan draws disturbingly violent pictures of things like decapitations and weird monsters. He’s been caught stealing. Seven-year-old Rosie (played wonderfully by the scene-stealing Maggie Elizabeth Jones) is emotionally better equipped to deal with the shifting reality around her. It goes without saying that, against conventional wisdom, Benjamin quits his job and purchases a rundown zoo as a way to reestablish a nurturing home environment for himself and his kids.

The run-down rural facility's 40-odd endangered animals face the threat of being put to sleep unless Benjamin can make the necessary renovations for the zoo to pass inspection. John Michael Higgins adds comic appeal as Walter Ferris, a quirky zoo inspector widely disliked by the staff Benjamin inherits when he purchases the property. Scarlett Johansson coasts through her role a zookeeper Kelly Foster, a dedicated young woman whose undeniable beauty causes simmering romantic tension with Benjamin. Indeed, romantic suspense is one of the film's trump cards. The anti-social Dylan tries to avoid the noticeable chemistry he shares with the zoo's youngest assistant Lilly (Elle Fanning). His failing attempts at skirting love's arrows give the movie a youthful sense of nostalgia that runs parallel to its idyllic sense of wonder regarding wild animals.

You never believe for a moment that Thomas Haden Church's playful character Duncan could be Matt Damon’s sibling. Yet you wouldn't want it any other way. Haden Church adds just the right amount of brotherly support to give the story the essential familial lift it needs. It doesn't hurt that he delivers every line with an infectious dose of good-humored intentionality. You can't help but love Damon and Haden Church as brothers even if they don’t share a single physical trait in common.

As with all of Cameron Crowe's films music plays an important part. Although the film slips into music video sequences from time to time it's difficult to challenge the director's pitch-perfect ability for matching perfectly contrasting yet complimenting pieces of rock music to the tone of the action at hand. Aside from songs from Tom Petty and Bob Dylan, Crowe tapped Icelandic singer/songwriter Jónsi from the rock band Sigur Rós to compose original music for the score. The formula works like a charm.

Without having even seen “We Bought a Zoo,” New Yorker magazine film critic David Denby famously slagged Cameron Crowe’s movie in emails to producer Scott Rudin regarding Denby’s faceplant decision to break a film review embargo on “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.” Such kneejerk critical reaction to solid holiday entertainment as “We Bought a Zoo” speaks volumes about corporate media’s attitudes that Hollywood is left to questionably interpret. As if there wasn’t already a dearth of G and PG-rated films, Denby’s malicious remarks reflect a damaging ideology of cultural condescension.

“We Bought a Zoo” never pays quite enough attention to the incarcerated wild animals we hear so much about throughout the story. The predictable climax comes across like so much melted peanut butter. Still, the movie wins in its ability create a glow of giddy movie pleasure that audiences crave. If that means you’ll tear up more over this movie than “War Horse,” well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Rated PG. 131 mins. (B) (Three Stars - out of five/no halves)

50/50

Director Jonathan Levine ("The Wackness") has a knack for conveying unconventional drama with enough droll spice to make the medicine go down easily even if the subject is cancer. Television-producer-turned-screenwriter Will Reiser ("Da Ali G Show") fulfills his part of the bargain with a semiautobiographical script that dares to go for the throat when necessary. The big C might be the topic du jour, but "50/50" puts the pernicious disease into a manageably personal context with equal parts humor, sincerity, and cynicism.

Joseph Gordon-Levitt's Adam Lerner is a Portland National Public Radio sound editor with a bad-animal for a girlfriend. Bryce Dallas Howard fills her unlikable character's wandering shoes as Rachel, an artist with about as much loyalty as a tom cat in heat. Rachel promises to stay by Adam's side through thick and thin, but she's just no good with handling the messy stuff of life.

Adam is the kind of guy who waits for the stop light to change even if no cars are coming. One of the movie's most explosively humorous scenes involves Adam's best friend Kyle (Seth Rogan) falling over himself in Adam's living room to share with his unfortunate pal video proof--captured on his cell phone--of Rachel's recent infidelity at a gallery opening. Rachel’s arrival at the event avails her to deny or confirm the evidence. Kyle has reason to take special pride in outing Rachel’s true colors. Adam’s recent discovery of malignant tumors on the base of his spine means that he must endure painful chemotherapy treatments. If Kyle's self righteousness catches the audience off-guard, it's a testament to the surprise of seeing a loyal friend take such bold and decisive action.

Frequent counseling sessions with an upstart therapist named Katherine (exquisitely played by Anna Kendrick) bring out Adam's waves of conflicting emotions surrounding his illness. Katherine and Adam develop a guardedly romantic friendship that nudges along an arm-distance of hope in spite of Adam's downward spiraling health. A testy relationship between Adam and his mother Diane (Anjelica Houston) needs addressing. The film's direct but minimalist handling of the mother/son subplot proves especially effective. 

Seth Rogan's portrayal as Adam's no-BS best friend is a study in nuance. Rogan pulls back on his trademark chuckling tic. The film's bromance carries the burden of comic relief, but also expedites an unexpected kind of catharsis that arrives with an air of authenticity. I'm not a fan of the split-genre term "dramedy," but "50/50"--as the title could be read--is a perfect balance of comedy and drama. In keeping with all of Joseph Gordon-Levitt's consistently solid work, the talented actor knows just where to hold back and where to let go. "50/50" is a gem.

Rated R. 99 mins. (B+) (Four Stars - out of five/no halves)

Straw Dogs

“When in Rome, [do as the Romans do.]” James Marsdan’s clueless screenwriter character David Sumner uses the age-old adage to rationalize how he should interact with snotty Southern hicks in his wife Amy’s hometown of Blackwater, Mississippi. Kate Bosworth plays Amy a blonde sexpot whose military father recently passed away, leaving behind the stone family mansion that withstood the ravages of Hurricane Katrina. The adjacent farmhouse however didn’t fair so well. David makes the mistake of hiring Amy’s ex-boyfriend—and former high school football hero—Charlie (Alexander Skarsgard) to repair the farmhouse roof with the help of his less mannered construction crew of prototype hillbillies. Nothing good can follow for David because he lets his ego get in the way of common sense.

The only reason a filmmaker should ever attempt remake to make a film is to improve on the original. David Cronenberg performed just such a feat with his version of “The Fly.” Co-writer/director Rod Lurie isn’t as fortunate, even if his revision of Sam Peckinpah’s 1971 film does allude to modern America as a combination of passive aggressive martyrs and bloodthirsty bullies. Lurie and his two screenwriters stick surprisingly close to the original film’s storyline. The murder of a family cat sets the narrative gravity of snowballing violence into play.

As in Peckinpah’s film, Amy is as much to blame for the chaos that befalls her and her nerdy—read impotent—husband as are the religious right assholes that terrorize the wealthy couple. Amy is a hometown girl who went on to great success as a television actress in Hollywood. She enjoys taunting her ex-boyfriend Charlie and his beer-swilling buddies with her exposed breasts. Lurie doesn’t go as far as Peckinpah did in disclosing the excruciating details of Amy’s rape at the hands of Charlie and one of his crusty crew. Still, a question hangs over the film about how much of the brutal episode Amy designed herself from a long-held fantasy. The event is not, as Pauline Kael noted of Peckingpah’s film “a male fantasy;” the rape is Amy’s super-objective that allows her to label herself and her husband as “cowards.” She is the fly in the ointment.

The central theme comes down to David defending “his house.” For as much as David has been grandfathered into the region via his native wife, he is nonetheless an interloper whose spouse throws him to the local wolves that she relates to better than she admits. Possession may represent “nine tenths of the law,” but legal constraints can be illusive and fleeting. 

The filmmakers substitute Blackwater, Mississippi for Peckinpah’s Cornwall, England. It’s no coincidence that “Blackwater” is the name of the notorious private military security firm that broke every law in the book in Iraq—so much so that the company changed its name to Xe (pronounced zee). John Burke (Laz Alonzo), a black local Iraq war hero, is the town sheriff but he is as ineffective as Amy’s deceased military father in protecting anyone. The former soldier is a “straw dog” set up for the sole purpose of being knocked down by private—read radical—political forces. Peckingpah’s original film is consequently positioned as a straw dog for Lurie’s version. The trouble is that Peckinpah’s movie is better.

Rated R. 109 mins. (C+) (Two Stars - out of five/no halves)

Warrior

Magnificent. The 21st century version of "Rocky" and "Raging Bull" rolled into one, "Warrior" is as solid as Tom Hardy's tensed ab muscles. Hardy plays Tommy Conlon, an ex-marine with a wellspring of pent-up anger. Much of Tommy's hardly concealed pain is the result of his alcoholic father Paddy's abuse, which sent Tommy and his sick mother on the road 14 years earlier in order to escape Paddy's temper. Tommy’s mom died in the process. Tommy also harbors concealed issues regarding his Iraq War experiences.

Nick Nolte's resonating performance as the contrite and now-sober patriarch packs a punch to match the ones Tommy throws after he cuts a deal for the old man to once again train him as a pro fighter.” Paddy’s brief narration readings of sections from “Moby Dick” color the story with a churning sense of lurking danger. Nolte’s investment in his troubled character easily matches that of his award-winning performance in Paul Schrader’s 1997 film “Affliction.” I wouldn’t be surprised to see “Warrior” garner a slew of nominations come Oscar season.

Sparta, a mixed martial arts championship with a $5 million purse, is the name of the game that coincidentally draws Tommy's younger brother Brendan (Joel Edgerton) out of his family-man shell. Brendan's job as a high school math teacher isn't bringing in enough cash to prevent the bank from foreclosing on the family home he shares with his wife Tess (well played by Jennifer Morrison) and child. Brendan was also a pro fighter. Although the years are creeping up on him, he convinces his former coach Frank Campana (Frank Grillo) to take up his cause. Frank returns to using Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony as Brendan’s unconventional theme music to facilitate his confidence and patience in the ring.

There’s a dynamic chemistry between Edgerton and Hardy. The two are utterly believable as brothers. One of the film’s posters splits the actors’ faces to enable a shocking similarity between their faces. The intensity and desperation the characters share draws the audience into their psyches. It’s no surprise that the brothers must face off against one another. What is astounding is how invested you become in each of the characters. You may find yourself rooting for a different brother than you imagined you would when the explosive battle between Tommy and Brendan commences.

Gavin O’Connor—the director of the exceptional Olympic hockey movie “Miracle”—co-wrote the screenplay with newcomers Anthony Tambakis and Cliff Dorfman. The resulting script contains kind of beautifully crafted plotting and dialogue that would make Paddy Chayefsky—the screenwriter of such classics as “Network” and “Altered States”—proud. Not a single line of conversation or action is wasted. The filmmakers develop the characters thoroughly before throwing them into the Atlantic City-set arena of ultimate hand-to-hand battle. The fight scenes are profoundly realistic. My jaded palms sweated through the second half of the movie.

You don’t have to be a boxing or mixed martial arts fan to enjoy this hard-hitting drama. If you are such a person, you will not be disappointed in the film’s accurate attention to details regarding things like the effectiveness of various fighting styles. “Warrior” is a big movie with a lot on its mind. Its nonjudgmental social commentary comes with the territory. You can’t help but be moved by it. “Warrior” will knock you out.

Rated PG-13. 139 mins. (A) (Five Stars - out of five/no halves)

The Tree of Life

Event Horizon
Terrence Malick Believes
By Cole Smithey

"The Tree of Life" is a bold but flailing attempt to create an epic transgressive experimental cinema of cosmic proportions. Terrence Malick introduces his lush but unsatisfying odyssey of '50s Americana with a biblical quote from God in the Book of Job. The hyperbolic text sets the abstract narrative that follows in thematic quicksand. 

"Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth?When the morning stars sang together,And all the sons of God shouted for joy?"

Oh boy. Give me a gumball at the soda stand while I order up a chocolate milkshake and watch Cindy Lou fix the ribbon in her hair at the shop window. 

At one point a mother points up toward a beautiful sky and announces to her sons, "God lives up there." Such corniness is commonplace in lines of voice-over narration that sound as though they're being read from the back of a Baptist pamphlet. A character dies early on in the story. Another person is compelled to comment "He's in God's hands now." Someone replies, "He was in God's hands the whole time."

Groan. 

For long stretches the film fawns over Hubble-inspired images from the vast reaches of outer space. Mammoth colorful nebula groove in iridescent delight. Billions of stars twinkle. The Earth's Sun erupts with gargantuan volcanic ferocity in extreme close-ups that put the viewer smack in the middle of boiling scalding lava. Perhaps Malick is making an oblique case for intelligent design. If so, he plays his narrative cards too close to the vest to tell. Think of the wallpaper movie as cinematic Xanex. No amount of coffee will keep your eyes from wanting to shut. As for the inevitable comparisons critics will be tempted to make with Stanley Kubrick's "2001 A Space Odyssey," beware. No such comparison is appropriate. Inevitable, but not appropriate.

Malick is clearly making a statement about the impermanent spec of astral dust that humanity represents against the infinite and expanding continuum of the cosmos. His meta-meta-micro vision does achieve the desired effect of making the audience feel small. It also makes us feel like we're being preached to by a filmmaker with not much more to express than how insignificant humanity is. If this sounds like a revelation, as it must have to Malick, you've come to the right place.

A pre-historic flashback involving CGI dinosaurs helps the film stay in its chosen vantage point of a wistful preteen boy in the '50s. A dinosaur lets another one die in a rollicking stream rather than crushing the wounded creature's head beneath his powerful foot. The scene looks cool but doesn't resonate in the grand scheme of the film. 

The film's somewhat more coherent aspect involves the flashback storyline of Sean Penn's rarely seen modern day character Jack. In '50s era Waco, Texas a family of three young boys--of whom Jack is one--and their blank-slate mother are overseen by Brad Pitt as their temperamental patriarch Mr. O'Brien. Pitt's father figure is one mean son-of-a-bitch. The actor employs a lower-lip pout as an outward physical symptom of a company-man patent creator who likes to lash out at his wife and sons when isn't flying to foreign countries on work assignments. From Malick's perspective, men in the '50s carried around pretty big chips on their shoulders. Young Jack (Hunter McCracken) comes to loathe his father. He wishes his dad would die. Inexplicable delinquent behavior ensues. 

"The Tree of Life" is an event movie that should be seen by anyone who loves cinema, if only to arrive at their own estimation of Terrance Malick's overwrought filmic poem. Sean Penn's Jack represents an everyman of Western culture. He is ostensibly Malick's alter ego, whose questions of existence threaten to eclipse the pretentious life he leads in an icy world of steel and glass. 

From a visual standpoint, the film is astounding. Thematically, it tries to do too much with too little. Terrence Malick obviously set out to make a "thought-provoking," "mind-blowing," "meditation" on the meaning of life. As could be predicted by such vague, overblown aspirations he ended up with a constipated and remote movie.

"The Tree of Life" is a divine fiasco because it doesn't just want to stare at its navel, it seeks to suck up its own umbilical cord and slingshot beyond all that is knowable. Although it screened to resounding boos at the 2011 Cannes Film Festival, it won the Palme d'or. It might come as a surprise to Malick to imagine that if you know you're creating when you're creating then you're not creating. But don't take my word for it, see "The Tree of Life" by all means. Doing so comes with bragging rights.

Rated PG-13. 109 mins. (B-) (Three Stars - out of five/no halves)

Cracks

Girls' School Hazards
Eva Green Goes Rogue
By Cole Smithey

Jordan Scott's feature film debut as a co-writer/director is so self-assured that it's tempting to take for granted the calculatedly dynamic measure of her work. The film's oblique title sadly does it no favors. The presence of Eva Green ("The Dreamers") alerted me to the mandatory nature of this film. The endlessly watchable Ms. Green plays headmistress Miss G at an all-girls boarding school on a lake in '30s-era England, although it was filmed in Ireland. A former student of the school herself, Miss G. takes a Dionysiac approach to teaching her teen girl students the importance of things like desire and freedom of expression. Daily diving classes at the lakeside provide a natural setting for the girls to give physical form to Miss G's unconventional lessons. The professedly worldly Miss G. keeps "her girls" in a strict pecking order. Her pet pupil Di Radfield (Juno Temple) lords over her peers as a mini taskmaster. However, Miss G and Di get much more than they bargained for when a Spanish aristocrat named Fiamma (Maria Valverde) arrives at the school. The beautiful and poised Fiamma is well traveled in spite of her young age. Her Roman Catholic upbringing is fodder for ridicule. There are rumors of a scandal that caused her leave Spain. It doesn't take long for Miss G. to become obsessed with Fiamma's many charms even as her jealous peers seek vengeance. Repression and opportunity from a dangerous combination of inappropriate lesbian desire. Guilty pleasure? You bet.

There are two succinct tides of human behavior at play. The catty nature of young girls finds Fiamma persecuted for her very presence in the company of her socially underdeveloped classmates. Such an interloper can not be allowed to remain in the fold. Fiamma inadvertently fans the flames of their derision by her shear ambivalence toward being accepted. Individuality never seemed so composed. Fiamma is also asthmatic. As such, she protects her physical well-being with as much careful regard as she does her sense of dignity. And yet she is generous. When Fiamma receives a care package from her family, she casually shares her exotic goodies with the other girls. Naturally, Fiamma is destined to be punished for such good deeds.

Miss G represents all the power and privilege that her underling students can one day hope to achieve. However, Fiamma sees through Miss G. as a scheming poseur who recites stories from literature as if they were her own. The delicate duel between Miss G. and Fiamma is the narrative's driving force. Fiamma is simply too charming, smart, and beautiful for her own good.

The same seething lust that Miss G fosters in her students, also simmers beneath her own blouse. When she takes her class skinny dipping at night we accept she is crossing boundaries that should not be broached. The once haughty Miss G. herself becomes subservient to Fiamma. The dynamic is a recipe for disaster. Miss G harbors a latent predatory nature that is as instinctively destructive as the petty jealousy of her students.

Directed by Ridley Scott's daughter Jordan, "Cracks" is a lush drama that challenges the relationship between academic domain and the opportunity for exploitation it allows. Cinematographer John Mathieson brings out the contrasting distance between natural beauty and the dangers it can promote. The cracks become chasms.

Not Rated. 107 mins. (B) (Three Stars - out of five/no halves)

The Company Men

Fallout
Hollywood Can't Come to Grips With America's Economic Collapse
By Cole Smithey

Two years after America's economic crisis began dispatching millions to the unemployment lines, Hollywood pretends to examine the fallout. In writer/director John Wells's film, next-to-the-top Boston corporate feeders like Bobby Walker (Ben Affleck), Gene McClary (Tommy Lee Jones), and Phil Woodward (Chris Cooper) get thrown into the cold by the manufacturing conglomerate they work for. In a departure from reality, the company is downsizing its 60,000 employees from the top down.

After losing his $125,000-a-year job, upper class family man Bobby (Affleck) spends cloudy days driving his shiny Porsche to a job placement facility where he and other corporate causalities send out resumes and make phone calls to the deaf ears of "prospective" employers. Embarrassed Bobby keeps his job loss a secret from everyone except his wife (Rosemarie DeWitt). Tommy Lee Jones chews the film's choicest role as luxury-loving Gene, a company co-founder squeezed out by his greedy boss (Craig T. Nelson). Though oddly ignored by the screenwriters, Chris Cooper's Phil Woodward is the most interesting character. Tough talking Phil tells his friend, "I won't let the bastards just kick me out after 30 years. I'll take an AK-47 to this fucking place first." He represents the desperation felt across the country by the one out of five workers who have lost their jobs. Phil says, "My life ended but nobody noticed." Although he's obviously meant to carry the film's theme, Phil Woodward vanishes in a rushed plot point that abstractly supports his agonizing observation. This movie isn't about him. Such losers get eaten by the sharks of their own psyches.

"Company Men" is far behind the times. While every out-of-work mom, dad, sister, and brother are told to put up a blog and figure out how to monetize it, the white collar dudes in "Company Men" are remarkable for the lack of loyalty or integrity they exhibit in their professional/personal relations. Gene helped build the company from scratch, so he's caught off guard when his business partner fires him with the help of the human resources exec he's been banging on the side. Sex carries no coin here. Played differently, the film could be cause for rejoicing. We could imagine every Wall Street shill and fat-cat banker being tossed out of their jobs, and their riches being divided among the poor masses they've conned and ripped off for years. Now that's a movie I want to see.

Bobby's meek crisis decision finally comes when he goes to work for his less than politically-correct contractor brother-in-law Jack (Kevin Costner). Bobby isn't much in the handyman department. That matters little. We know he won't be carrying lumber and hammering nails for the long haul. This isn't that kind of movie. "The Company Men" is a somber, glossy, and sound-bite-heavy drama made watchable by its sturdy ensemble performances. The story is a letdown, but the actors--including an especially sassy Maria Bello--are enjoyable to watch.

 Rated R. 109 mins. (B) (Three Stars - out of five/no halves)

Rated R. 109 mins. (C+) (Two Stars - out of five/no halves)