The sixth entry in the Rocky franchise is far better than it has any right to be. Sylvester Stallone is back in the writing and directing chairs, presenting a melancholy portrait of a hero fighting against decline. At the film’s start, we see the Italian Stallion still reeling from the death of his beloved Adrian two years prior, while trying to maintain a relationship with his estranged son (Milo Ventimiglia). While Rocky tries to break his lonely spell by making friends with a single mother (Geraldine Hughes) and her son (James Francis Kelly III), a TV sports show tries to create a fantasy boxing match between the current heavyweight champion, Mason Dixon (Antonio Tarver) and a past legend, our man Rocky. The idea catches fire, pulling Balboa back into the ring after years of retirement.
Brad Pitt reunites with writer/director Andrew Dominik (The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford), playing a hit man called in by the local crime lords after two young kids take down a big card game that collapses the underground economy. The parallels to the US economy are blatant, complete with recurring clips of Barack Obama and George W. Bush talking about the financial collapse of 2008. But if you ignore the pointed comparison, Killing Them Softly offers a compelling portrait of characters who do anything to get by. They aren’t quite the tough guys of so many other mob and gangster movies — Dominik’s character’s don’t enjoy hurting people, they just want to get paid — and they fear the consequences of their actions. It’s a refreshing spin on familiar ‘tough guy’ tropes, but don’t expect a Scorsese or Tarantino movie here. This one favors conversation and performance well over action. There are a couple of visceral moments in the film (both involving the brutal misfortunes of Ray Liotta’s character), but the real reason to see Killing Them Softly is for the performances.
In pre-World War II Florence, a group of elitist British dames and a garish American art collector take in a small boy and raise him. When Britain and America enter the war several years later, the young man returns the favor by looking after the women when they’re interned by the Italian police — and helping to smuggle one of them out of the country when her nefarious husband plans to hand her over to the Gestapo. Tea with Mussolini is a semi-autobiographical tale from director Franco Zeffirelli (Romeo and Juliet, The Taming of the Shrew). The script could have gained a stronger perspective by sticking more to the young man’s point of view, but the sentiment comes across beautifully and I find it impossible to resist the cast of characters.
Oliver Stone presents his third presidential biopic, this time putting George W. Bush under the microscope. The script by Stanley Weiser (Wall Street) is an ambitious one that sometimes struggles to find its focus, but noticeable emphasis is given to W’s estranged relationship to “Poppy” Bush (George H.W.), his struggle with alcoholism, and his born again faith. As played by Josh Brolin, W. is painted in a goofy but sympathetic light. The goofy parts are mostly on record, though Stone might have toned down the part where W. meets future wife Laura (Elizabeth Banks) while chugging beer and ripping into a mammoth hamburger. The sympathetic parts come from W.’s fears of never living up to the family name, as well as in the final moments, where he seemingly begins to doubt his presidential legacy.
