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jdesando

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1554 reviews in total

"We're just the beautiful people." Robert Kennedy (Peter Sarsgaard)

Although the Kennedys were indeed that, Bobby has caught the spirit of director Pablo Larrain and writer Noah Oppenheim's close-to-perfect biodrama of Jacqueline Kennedy in Jackie, set during the week after her husband's assassination. This evocation of a relatively-recent catastrophe for the American people catches the irony of "beautiful people" caught in the cross hairs of a careless and malevolent populace that rebels against too much beauty in the hands of the few.

So finely tuned is this meticulous history that while she smokes during a reporter's (Billy Crudup) interview, she tells him, "I don't smoke." The smoke and mirrors of "Camelot" are carefully tended to by the former first lady, maybe the first first lady to understand the power of image and the portal, television, for making that legacy immortal.

Jackie is a serious exploration of a widow's grief and her understanding of her role in history, despite any misgivings she has about myths that were already forming about her husband and that she was enhancing by playing a regal role in front of millions, a girl who doesn't like crowds. Mrs. Kennedy presented her world to the world through an early TV trek through the changes she had made in the White House décor. Although her husband disliked the expenditure, she knew the show would be a way of establishing the kingdom she would tend even after his death.

To see Natalie Portman become Jackie with the strange accent and debutante's poise is to see an understated tour de force of acting, worthy of the role for which she has won an Oscar nomination. She remains poised, even right after the murder, not with her seeming self-serving but rather intimations of the immortality she can foster in front of the world.

The film, surprisingly candid with the principals' discussion of Kennedy's meager contributions during his two years' tenure, shows how gradually a woman of exceptional intelligence and beauty can become an historical treasure as she assures her husband of the same legacy.

Although poetry has usually been the province of students, professors, and the well-to-do, Jim Jarmusch's Paterson changes that norm to give us a blue-collar bus driver, Paterson (Adam Driver), whose little book of poems is startlingly poignant with observations about daily life. Seven days mark the chapters of his week, where most of his days are the same. This minimalist film allows those of us not poets to see into the heart of a common man with a poet's heart.

In Seinfeld fashion, nothing much happens until something happens to his hand-written collection, forcing him to confront life's disappointments head-on and not through the fog of words and dreams. For most of the time Paterson relaxes with his pregnant girl friend Laura (Golshifteh Farahani) and their dyspeptic bulldog, Marvin. She fantasizes about being a country singer, in that similar wish motif as he. Well, driving a bus and making cupcakes are what they really do.

Such is Jarmusch's charm—even the loftiest ambitions are tempered by the reality of small deeds and small conversation. Not that the film is devoid of other conflicts, for a couple at the local bar, Everett (William Jackson Harper) and Marie (Chasten Harmon), has continuing problems culminating in Everett's over-the-top desperation. Paterson takes it in stride while he gets physically involved.

The days pass by, the actions are small, but the effects are as large as ordinary lives will allow. The loss of his poems, which he has not stored as modern technology would allow, provides a chance to show us his resilience. Even Paterson's conversation with a 10 year-old girl who writes poems like his is the stuff of his life that may become source material. The material is rife with life.

Although character Paterson might remind you of John Lurie in Jarmusch's Stranger Than Paradise, be not deceived. He is his own man and poet.

"Business is war." Ray Kroc (Michael Keaton) The ironic title, which could mimic the bravado of our new president, effectively sets the spirit of this docudrama about the force behind the McDonald's empire, Ray Kroc, played by Michael Keaton. Keaton will make you forget his narcissistic Birdman or long for that nutcase, benign by comparison.

Besides being informative about the development of the hamburger kingdom from the early '50's, the film gives a full measure to the charismatic developer, whose charisma I matched by his ambition.

That passion to succeed, coupled with an uncanny insight into the needs of our fellow Americans, leads Kroc eventually to supersede the founders (John Carroll Lynch and Nick Offerman), who are depicted mainly as kind-hearted rubes with no idea of the gold hidden in the hum drum of daily eating.

When the McDonalds would rather not expand nationally, Kroc is there it goad them on: "You and your endless parade of nos, cowering in the face of progress." He teaches them the "burger ballet" while he whirls them off stage left.

Sealing the eventual deal with only a handshake, the McDonald boys enter the world of commercialism and chicanery, only to lose out on untold millions as they are finessed by Kroc. Heck, who cares? Cause the star of this sanitized doc is Kroc, a perpetual motion entrepreneur who could show our new president a thing or two about the art of a deal.

Watching dynamos like Kroc and Trump confirms that while the little people like the McDonald boys will always be left behind, the kings are still eminently watchable. Michael Keaton certainly is.

"Nothing in the world is more common than unsuccessful men with talent," Ray and Dr. Norman Vincent Peale.

"He's done awful things to people and he'll do awful things to you." Kevin (James McAvoy)

So warns one of a couple dozen personalities played by a game and convincing McAvoy, whose 23 Dissociative-Identity-Disorder (DID) central characters people the messy Split. Director/writer M. Night Shyamalan has crafted an abduction thriller cum multiple personality disorder with his signature twisted ending, but overall not near the greatness of The Sixth Sense, Signs, or even the more recent The Visit.

Three teens are abducted by Kevin et al., whose promise that a "Beast" is coming to devour them does spook the bejesus out of them. The more canny of the three, Casey (Anya Taylor-Joy from the surprisingly effective The Witch), is the heroine destined to grapple with that Beast and the personalities that wander around this bunker-like world (Remember the locale of 10 Cloverfield Lane?) The director directs way too many close-ups of her for my taste, and the usual horror tropes like jump scares aren't sufficient to mask a fragmented plot that mirrors the split personality disorders. Outside forces like the kindly shrink, Dr. Karen Fletcher (Betty Buckley), are actually peripheral to the power of Dennis and his army of identities.

Brian De Palma's Dressed to Kill used a split personality motif to explain bad behavior; Hitchcock, a big influence on De Palma and Shyamalan, used most of Split's bag of tricks, especially in Psycho, long before Shyamalan knew what personality was; United States of Tara showcased for TV the DID state to some notable success. Split will not meet the "classic" criteria they have achieved.

Because payoff for Shyamalan has always been the twist ending, he doesn't so much disappoint as confuse, with unfortunate explanations that sap the challenges a smart thriller should offer.

"I've never seen a case like this before. Twenty three identities live in Kevin's body." Dr. Fletcher

You may go sleepless while watching this abduction thriller with a couple of stars, Jamie Foxx and Michelle Monaghan. They're Las Vegas PD detectives involved in drug busting with all the kidnap, corruption components in place.

The outstanding element is the awareness that an Oscar winner--Foxx--can be wasted in a hum-drum actioner that surprises not at all. Believe me when I tell you that if you stirred Liam Neeson in with this script, you'd know the difference only by the skin color of the kidnapped children.

Although director Odar does a competent job with the foot races and car chases, they are still boiler-plate staples of the genre. While Foxx spends most of the film improbably finding his son, losing him, finding him again in an almost Groundhog Day motif, the action becomes tedious quickly. His life-threatening-wound is ludicrously not debilitating except for a few high-priced Oscar grunts that end up immobilizing a goon or two who have no similar disabilities.

It was a dismal afternoon when I saw Sleepless because I love cinematic visuals and watching Michelle make something out of nothing. Otherwise, you'll be more careful about the safety of your children. That's the good part.

"Guys aren't supposed to look like they're thinking about what they look like." Julie (Elle Fanning)

No they're not, but in Mike Mills' 20th Century Women, some rules don't apply, and the young man, Jamie (Lucas Jade Zumann), is well on his way to come of age in a most unusual household. It's 1979, before the Internet and Reagan and after the Punk rage. In other words, it's a time of cultural and personal transition.

No one is more responsible for this cultural migration in the Fields family than Dorothea (Annette Bening), a middle-aged matriarch with wit and lungs that will, in 20 years, surrender to the assault of her incessant smoking (her voice-over narration tells us so). Dorothea has the calm, contemplative, accepting nature to guide her two children, Jamie and Abbie (Greta Gerwig), into a responsible adulthood prefaced by sexual exploration and establishment defiance.

Although I rarely comment on acting, I must single out Bening for a performance of rich nuance, eschewing the theatrics of Oscar baiting to give us a character with immense affection and uncertainty, just like many of us, I suspect. Her low-key but powerful interpretation should get an Oscar nod.

While the examination of teen sexuality in flux is well described, so too is Dorothea's odyssey from a broken marriage to a Zen-like acceptance. As in the iconic Seinfeld world, nothing seems to be happening. However beneath that middle-class ambiance lie hearts struggling with their own shifting shapes under the watchful eye of family.

20th Century Women is all about the overwhelming part family plays in human development, not in grandly dramatic exercises but in the small notes like sitting in bed chatting or going with mother to a nightclub. As the credit sequence will tell you, life turns out fairly well despite the uncertainties of daily vicissitudes documented so distinctly here.

"The moment you set foot in that country, you step into high danger." Father Alessandro Valignano (Ciaran Hinds)

Martin Scorsese is in constant motion about faith, with his newest film, a serious upgrade on the subjects from Kundun and The Last Temptation of Christ. He explores the suffering of Jesuit father Rodrigues (Andrew Garfield) in 17th century Japan.

It's pretty simple: The Japanese, devout Buddhists, are expunging Christians, with emphasis on Jesuit priests. Only two of those left, one Father Rod, the other Father Ferreira (Liam Neeson). The latter has caved (apostatized); Rod is hanging on. Garfield is not the best choice for a dynamic hero given that Scorsese has previously used, for instance, Robert De Niro.

We're hanging for almost three hours of Mel-Gibson-like torture to get remaining Christians to be apostates. Until Father Ferara re-enters to confront Fr. Rod, nothing interesting intellectually happens; it's pretty much how much you can endure watching people seared in hot water, beheaded, and whatever.

Where Scorsese scores mostly is the confrontation between physical and spiritual survival. At some point, it's easy to understand how anyone of faith could disavow it given the power of torture and the uncertainty of care on the part of Jesus.

If Scorsese is also commenting on the current state of water boarding, because there is a mash up of crucifixion and drowning, then he succeeds in making the argument that torture is effective. But believe me, this film tackles the effects of pain and not the nuances of faith or why anyone would sacrifice lives for a dream of heaven unsubstantiated by scientific truths.

Secondarily, Silence is not silent on the clash between cultures, which pits a deeply ingrained religion against an invading one. Japan is likened to a swamp that cannot support roots, i.e., a foreign religion like Catholicism. As it turns out in old Japan, it can't.

As for the rest of us, no one of faith can escape the lingering doubts: "I pray but I am lost. Am I just praying to silence?" Father Rodrigues

"Terrorists are not following Islam. Killing people and blowing up people and dropping bombs in places and all this is not the way to spread the word of Islam. So people realize now that all Muslims are not terrorists." Muhammad Ali

The Boston Marathon bombing, just about 4 years ago in April '13, is close enough in time to give a special burden of proof to director Peter Berg and the crew in their Patriots Day because we remember. It does them well, a carefully calibrated docudrama that gives a sense of the chaos on that day while not overdoing the sentimental afterthoughts.

Although the genre demands a preface to the main action with introductions for some of the heroes and victims, this segment is usually the slowest as it is here. Boston police officer Tommy Saunders (Mark Wahlberg—always blue-collar Boston reliable and here fictional) says goodbye to wife, Carol (Michelle Monaghan in the usually thankless role of awaiting spouse), and we say hello, albeit too superficially, to a variety of sub-characters including the brother jihadists, Dzhikhar (Alex Wolff) and Tamerlan (Themo Melikidze).

This story becomes exciting as the variety of local and national investigative agencies zero in on the perps, using captured video from stores and phones to eventually spy the radical Islamists. The cut backs to their home life are modest, depicting play with the kids, eating, and arguing. This minimalism is especially effective as it contrasts with the world-class havoc they impose at the marathon.

Exactly why the brothers commit mayhem is by inference only, namely that the radical Islamic force is with them. Why younger assimilated brother is in the thrall of older brother is never clear, and the presence of a larger organization is not revealed. Maybe all the better to universalize the evil.

As in most of these docudramas, the coda calls for philosophizing (consider the ending of Sully, for instance), and Tommy's voice-over about good and evil, love and hate fills the requirement. The generalization about love being the remedy for the terror is trite yet affecting because I have no better answer.

"Maybe it's true. We all find ourselves in lives we didn't expect. But what I learned was powerful men don't have to be cruel."Joe Coughlin (Ben Affleck)

Yet in the best of gangster, powerful men like Michael Corleone and Henry Hill are cruel, no matter how gentle their exteriors. So it seems with Joe Coughlin, a prohibition "bandit," as he calls himself, who doesn't think of himself as a gangster ("I don't wanna be a gangster. Stopped kissing rings a long time ago."). Yet he kills or has others killed in the name of moving toward heaven.

Although beautifully appointed and set in Florida and Cuba, writer/director Affleck's crime story misses the weight of crime films, which casually juxtapose the serious with the not so. It lacks the sass of Pulp Fiction and the gravitas of The Godfather with not much of their verbal gymnastics or irony.

Joe wanting to be a saint while being a sinner requires an actor of considerable resources, which Affleck showed a modicum of recently in the Accountant because it required him to be affectless. He brings that same stolid mien to this film and endangers the edge necessary for the success of actors like Al Pacino. Like Affleck, the film is listless except when Tommy Guns take charge.

As Joe navigates from a low-rent lover, Emma (Sienna Miller), to a classy love, Graciella (Zoe Saldana), director Affleck spends too much time on their embraces and too little on what makes him love them so passionately. He does love his own image as his abundance of self close-ups testifies. Maybe there is no passion, just old affectless Affleck.

It's dumping time in Hollywood, and Live by the Night is a classic example of why smart studios dump dull movies in January. It's not all that bad the way Joe is not all that bad. However, it just doesn't have the firepower to go against the big guns in the Oscar race. Remember the wild surprises and rich characters of the long-form Sopranos?

Maybe that's why the film gangster genre feels troubled here: The arch enemy, TV!

"Every time we get a chance to get ahead they move the finish line. Every time." Mary Jackson (Janelle Monae)

The pre-launch action prior to the late John Glenn's epic orbit in 1962 is uniquely lensed through the points of view of three black women who, as math-based NASA computers, were instrumental in the success of the project. Hidden Figures goes beyond the romance of the history to touch on multiple cultural challenges with soft, fuzziness and smarts.

On one level, this biopic hammers home the stupidity of segregation especially when it requires math genius Katherine (Taraji P. Henson) to spend 40 minutes to go to the "colored" toilet. Well, launch honcho Al Harrison (Kevin Costner) takes care of that problem by tearing down the sign and with it the prejudice under attack in the Civil Rights Movement.

Costner embodies the rational but humane spirit of NASA, which, like him, needs to get the job done regardless of social inequities, as leaders like him reach beyond computation to bigger issues like beating the Russians in the space race. His cool but caring and global instincts mirror President Kennedy's drive to succeed regardless of the civil rights turmoil.

On a second level, Hidden Figures tackles the second-class citizenship of women, who despite capabilities as powerful as those of men, are excluded from meetings that would put them in charge of the rapidly-changing computations especially about the tricky re-entry going from parabolic to elliptical or the other way in a dance with death. I'm being unfairly flip because the heart of this drama is not math but the right of all humans to be equal.

The premise of the film with brilliant ladies marginalized until they direct their individual fates is an apt metaphor for oppressed and undervalued people.

On a third level, this entertaining drama deals with the colossal emergence of computers, in this case giant mainframe IBMS, which threaten not only our Russian competitors but also the jobs of our brilliant ladies. Have no fear, for Dorothy (Octavia Spencer) comes to the rescue as supervisor par excellence.

Hidden Figures could be criticized for its lenient treatment of wrongdoers and its benign depiction of the heroines, but I prefer to think like Costner's character that we should go beyond the "figures" to the bigger gestalt of universal equality. In this warm history, even the Russians come off well enough as experts who beat us into orbit (Yuri Gagarin).

Yet, we beat them to the moon! That striving without cultural barriers is the anchor of this romantic adventure, just as riveting as any superhero blockbuster, a genre that has gone way beyond prejudice long ago and far, far away.

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