JANE EYRE (2011)

The latest adaptation of the Charlotte Bronte novel opens with our heroine Jane Eyre (Mia Wasikowska) fleeing from (what we later learn is) Thornfield Hall and onto the stormy moors.  Cold, wet and exhausted Jane collapses at the threshold of the remote domicile of clergyman St. John Rivers (Jamie Bell) and his sisters.  They nurse the girl to health, and the grateful Jane reveals to them (and us) her tumultuous history.  Orphaned as a child, Jane (played here by Amelia Clarkson) lives with her cruel aunt, Mrs. Reed (Sally Hawkins) who sends the girl to the oppressive Lowood School as soon as she can.  There Jane deals with institutionalized torment under the guise of piety.  The sadistic instructors succeed in mortifying her flesh but not her spirit.  When she comes of age, Jane leaves the school by becoming governess to a French-speaking ward at Thornfield Hall under the watchful but kindly eye of housekeeper Mrs. Fairfax (Judi Dench).  When master of the house Rochester (Michael Fassbender) returns, the moody gentleman shows an uncharacteristic interest in Jane.  His interest becomes more acute when the governess, roused from sleep by a strange noise, saves his life after she discovers a fire nearly consuming his sleeping chamber.  Nevertheless Rochester remains preoccupied -- with Lady Blanche Ingram (Imogen Poots) whom society fully expects him to marry and with a dark secret that will eventually drive Jane from his home.  Moira Buffini’s thrifty screenplay, while lean, remains adequately nourished.  The characters are keenly drawn without undue flourish.  Likewise Cary Fukunaga’s nuanced direction retains a rich period atmosphere while using a succinct visual style to prevent the film’s pace from becoming overly deliberate.  The supporting performances are uniformly excellent, with Hawkins as decorously nasty as Dench is quietly endearing.  As the mercurial Rochester, Fassbender achieves a fascinating blend of roiling passion and enigmatic diffidence.  But the movie rightly belongs to the wonderful Wasikowska whose portrayal effortlessly captures Jane’s strength, conviction and self-worth.

THE POPE'S PICKS AT ON THE PAGE

Below is a link to the On The Page podcast, hosted by noted screenwriting instructor Pilar Alessandra, in which she, Michael Musa and I discuss this year's Oscar-nominated screenplays.

http://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/on-the-page-screenwriting/id262077408

It runs about an hour.  Enjoy.

50/50 (2011)

Dying is easy; comedy is hard.  Or so goes the old adage.  It should be said that making a comedy about dying (or at least its prospect) is hard, too.  Screenwriter Will Reiser and director Jonathan Levin have set this laudable task for themselves with disappointing results.  27-year-old Adam (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) has an almost live-in girlfriend named Rachael (Bryce Dallas Howard) and a crass best friend named Kyle (Seth Rogen).  At a doctor visit Adam learns he has a tumor on his spine and that the recovery prognosis is fifty-fifty.  Adam’s young counseling intern Katherine (Anna Kendrick) struggles to put her charge at ease with various coping and relaxation techniques.  However, he does attain a modicum of comfort (and some medical marijuana) from fellow chemotherapy patients Alan (Philip Baker Hall) and Mitch (Matt Frewer).  Adam’s anxious mother Diane (Anjelica Huston) offers to move in, but Rachael assures her (and herself) that she can look after her beau.  But Kyle catches the reluctant girlfriend in some convenient canoodling, which prompts our intrepid friends to explore cancer as a means to pick up shallow women -- and opens an avenue of romance between Adam and Katherine.  Aside from the disease-as-seduction gag Reiser gets slight comedic mileage out of his cancer premise, and what humor hi-jinks the film has are recognizable from most so-called “bromances”.  Levine directs tentatively, relying too often on music montages, and leaves his actors floundering and unfocused in scenes that require delicate tonal shifts.  The appealing Gordon-Levitt and adorable Kendrick manage moments of genuine charm in spite of this.  Howard does well in a thankless role, while Huston distinguishes herself nicely.  Rogen, however, does not fare so well.  His dialogue, much of which I suspect was improvised, sounds like outtakes from lesser movies, and his comic timing has all the precision of a stampede.  I have no doubt a movie that addresses cancer with sensitivity and humor could be made.  Unfortunately we’ll have to wait for more courageous comedy writers and directors (Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant spring to mind) to tackle it.

WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN (2011)

In the wake of horrific events society seeks comfort in finding a reason for the tragedy or, in the absence of reason, in assigning blame.  This challenging film from Lynne Ramsay explores the effects of a high school massacre on the mother of the teen killer, her feelings of guilt and of responsibility for the actions of the child she brought into the world.  Adapted from Lionel Shriver’s novel, the screenplay by director Ramsay & Rory Kinnear opens with a series of disorienting images, like memory fragments arising unbidden, from a primitive ritual in a foreign land to a dark suburban home with billowing sheer curtains and the sound of automatic sprinklers in the disquieting night.  These memories belong to Eva Khatchadourian (Tilda Swinton) who has become a pariah in her town.  She regularly cleans the red paint thrown on her house and car, hides from victims' mothers in the grocery store, and accepts the hostile stares and recriminations heaped upon her.  The memories begin to coalesce and we learn of her well-traveled youth, her marriage to Franklin (John C. Reilly) and her reticence to impending motherhood.  Son Kevin’s birth confirms Eva’s fears.  The baby screams constantly in her presence, the toddler refuses to play with her, and the 6-year-old (played by a convincing Jasper Newell) spurns toilet training with open hostility, all the while benign to his father.  Teen Kevin (Ezra Miller) only gets worse, but whenever Eva expresses concern over their son’s sociopathic behavior her husband dismisses it as typical.  In a career-defining performance, Swinton elicits both sympathy and frustration as Eva in her attempt to walk the line between unconditional love and social responsibility.  We understand her hope of redemption for Kevin, and yet we cringe at the choices made with our benefit of hindsight.  And, despite Kevin’s relentless lack of remorse, we continue to question whether stronger parental intervention would have saved lives.  Ramsay’s unflinching and rigorous examination of the development of a psychopath refuses the comfort of easy answers, which makes for a bracing if less than pleasant film experience.

WARRIOR (2011)

Gavin O’Connor’s rousing, emotionally punishing film follows three damaged men.  Paddy Conlon (Nick Nolte), a recovering alcoholic, struggles to make amends with his estranged sons.  Years ago Tommy (Tom Hardy), a star high school wrestler, moved to the West Coast with his mother to escape his father’s drunken rages.  Meanwhile older brother Brendan (Joel Edgerton) married sweetheart Tess (Jennifer Morrison) and fled to Philadelphia where he teaches high school physics and bounces at a nightclub to help feed and clothe his three daughters.  After his mother’s death Tommy returns to the Pittsburgh family home and persuades his despised father to train him for Sparta, a winner-take-all mixed martial arts tournament.  Meanwhile Brendan, with his mortgage under water and no stranger to fighting for money, convinces trainer Frank Campana (Frank Grillo) to get him back into shape for the upcoming competition as well.  While Brendan’s motive for this punishing pursuit is clear, Tommy’s is more enigmatic but no less compelling.  The film’s second half, set in Atlantic City, chronicles the bruising battles leading to the championship round, the results of which will leave all but the most stone-hearted shaken.  Credit screenwriters O’Connor & Anthony Tambakis & Cliff Dorfman with an unflinching portrayal of the world of mixed martial arts and a visceral yet humane portrait of its physically and psychologically pummeled central characters.  Often the film’s most devastating blows come from words and not fists.  Director O’Connor maintains a propulsive pace and elicits performances both raw and delicate from this exceptional cast.  Nolte achieves a riveting restraint as the contrite, self-loathing patriarch barely holding himself together.  Edgerton is terrific as a stable family man and dogged combatant willing to put his body on the line to save his home.  However, the film belongs to the revelatory Hardy, who projects hurt and despair in his eyes while anger vibrates through his muscled, ape-like body.  Succeeding both as a pugilist picture and perceptive family drama, this punch to the breadbasket of a film takes the breath away.

FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO’VE JUST JOINED US

I’m a procrastinator, and the Pope’s Picks online blog has compelled me to write more timely reviews.  Previously I would spend all of January and most of February writing reviews of films I’d seen months earlier in order to meet my Oscar® deadline.  At times a movie made such a minor impression I could barely recall its details from the fog of the past, and the review felt vague and unformed.  I now call each movie as I see it, when I see it, without tweaking my opinion in the afterglow of award nominations (or lack thereof) at season’s end.  For that reason I am much happier with this year’s crop of reviews, and I hope you are, too.

For the most part I have received very positive feedback.  There were a number of you, however, who thought I should make my reviews more user-friendly by providing a rating system and/or a more clear delineation of which movies I liked and which movies I disliked.  A fair (and not uncommon) comment, and one that I have pondered throughout the 25-year history of the Pope’s Picks.

Early readers of the Picks will recall that for a time I gave each movie a Rosary rating.  Most reviewers did the equivalent, so the concept made perfect sense.  Then I was given a book of film criticism that changed the way I approached reviews:  Guide for the Film Fanatic by Danny Peary.  This is a wonderful book that’s out of print.  If you can track down a copy, grab it and hold it close -- especially if you love movies.  Peary dispenses with the rating system.  His rationale for this is simple and one that I respect:  each movie he writes about is worthy of viewing – the good, the bad, and the ugly.  Therefore I’ve chosen to forgo ratings to foment exploration rather than judgment when discussing movies.

I look at a movie review as the beginning of a conversation.  And I hope you will view it the same way.  If something I’ve written sparks a comment, an observation, an idea, or even strong disagreement, please do post in the comment section of the blog.  I’m always happy to keep the conversation going (now that I know how to post my own comments to your comments).

Thanks for sticking with me this far.  Thanks especially to all of you who have encouraged me and posted thoughtful comments both on the blog and on Facebook.  If you haven’t already and are interested in joining my Facebook group, The Pope’s Picks vs. The World!!, please send a request to the group and I will happily add you.  In addition to posting blog links in the group I also link to select movie-related articles that are worthwhile reads.

Finally, I must thank Michael Musa for lighting a fire under me to start this online blog and for handling many of the Facebook group logistics.  And thanks also to Nina Berry for providing on-the-fly editorial help when I call and ask, “What’s the term for the thing that does that thing?  You know what I mean.”  Because she usually does.

Over the next week or so I’ll be posting my 2011 Best of the Year list as well as my Oscar® predictions.  Stay tuned.

DRIVE (2011)

If style were the sole determinant of quality then director Nicolas Winding Refn’s art house crime movie would clean up on prizes.  Under the loving gaze of Newton Thomas Sigel’s camera Los Angeles at night has rarely looked more romantic.  Such are the cinematic environs in which we meet our super cool hero, played by Ryan Gosling, elegantly eluding a police dragnet in the car he drives for the chauffeured thieves in back.  Driver (as he is called in the credits, since we never learn his name) works as a mechanic for Shannon (Bryan Cranston), who also farms him out as a part-time driver of stunt cars for the movies and the occasional getaway car for criminals.  A recluse by necessity, Driver avoids meaningful human contact whenever possible. But he breaks this rule by assisting neighbor Irene (Carey Mulligan) after her car breaks down in a parking lot.  Despite his initial reticence Driver soon befriends her and her young son just in time for husband Standard (Oscar Isaac) to return home from prison.  The ex-con owes a local thug prison protection money and is being violently coerced into robbing a pawnshop to make good the debt.  Driver offers his services to help clean the slate, but the job goes awry, leaving him in the lethal sights of mobsters Bernie Rose (Albert Brooks) and his hotheaded partner Nino (Ron Perlman).  Taking a cue from its protagonist, Hossein Amini’s spare screenplay (from the James Sallis book) remains cold and detached, which makes the film’s violence even more shocking and unsettling.  Because we are kept at such a remove from even the main character; however, the grisly acts have little emotional impact, and we are left to wonder how to feel about the carnage we’ve just witnessed.  Gosling gets surprising mileage out of an impassive face, but the rest of the exceptional cast seem hamstrung by a director with something to prove.  Even Brooks’ villainous turn lacks his trademark humor.  Either Winding Refn is too in love with his craft (which is considerable) to be bothered with character development let alone nuance, or else he has spent too many hours reading the nihilistic philosophies of Nietzsche.