Cate Blanchett stars as the real-life Irish journalist who paid the ultimate price for exposing the burgeoning drug problem in mid-90s Dublin. Outraged after discovering children playing in streets littered with used needles, Veronica Guerin decided to bring the epidemic into the national limelight, risking the life and safety of not only herself but her family as well. Blanchett, always reliable, does a great job portraying Guerin as a woman with a brave public face, even after a shot is fired into her home and a drug lord punches her repeatedly in the face for daring to step foot on his property (the film’s most brutal and disturbing scene).
Director Sidney Lumet showcases a true story ripped from the headlines, about two amateur bank robbers who started a media sensation that exploded further when the public learned of their unusual circumstances. Al Pacino stars as the master-mind of the heist plan that goes to hell and Charles Durning costars as the police captain who tries to manage the 24-hour siege. What’s most remarkable about this story is the robbers’ unexpected courtesy toward their hostages and law enforcement, as well as the reason Pacino’s character needs the money — to pay for his lover’s sex change. Lumet’s unadorned, fly-on-the-wall approach neither sensationalizes nor condescends to any of the material or its characters. Dog Day Afternoon is a mesmerizing mash-up of the gritty and the oddly touching, the darkly comic and the emotionally tense. Frank Pierson took home the Academy Award for his original screenplay, while the film also earned nominations for Best Picture, Director, and Editing (Dede Allen). Pacino was nominated for Best Actor and Chris Sarandon (Fright Night, The Princess Bride) was nominated for his supporting role as Pacino’s exasperated boyfriend. With John Cazale and Carol Kane.
Gravity is so harrowing, I’m tempted to call it crisis porn. The movie stars Sandra Bullock and George Clooney as astronauts stranded in orbit over Earth after debris destroys their spacecraft. Director Alfonso Cuarón (Children of Men, A Little Princess) warns us from the get-go with some on-screen text that life in space is impossible, and then proceeds to throw everything you can imagine at Bullock and Clooney’s characters. They’ve got dwindling oxygen supplies, they’ve got the debris looping back around at them every ninety minutes, their spacesuits are running out of propulsion, and their connection to Huston has gone dark. There are the threats of burning alive, freezing to death, drowning, and slipping into coma. They see other members of their crew frozen solid, flesh exposed to the vacuum of space — one guy with a tidy hole clean through his head.
Against a backdrop of the Bangkok underground fighting scene, a reticent drug smuggler (Ryan Gosling) is caught in a vicious cycle of brutal revenge after his brother is murdered for committing rape. Only God Forgives plays out like a fever dream, a far more operatic and surreal effort from writer/director Nicolas Winding Refn than his earlier mainstream hit, Drive. There is precious little dialogue, hyper-stylized photography, a brash score by Cliff Martinez, and a willful tendency to blur the line between reality and the characters’ imaginations.
Jim Carrey stars as a man who discovers a book that he believes is about him, sinking him further and further into a murder mystery that proposes the killer is, quite literally, the number 23. Carrey is good and director Joel Schumacher’s (A Time to Kill, Flatliners) direction is taut, if a little too hyper-stylized for the material. I don’t put stock in numerology, so the first half of the film strains my suspension of disbelief. Fortunately, Fernley Phillips’ script makes a one-eighty after the mid-point and I found the last half much more engaging than the first. (I won’t give any direct spoilers, but it’s a lot like A Beautiful Mind in its narrative structure.) Cinematographer Matthew Libatique (Requiem for a Dream, Black Swan) serves up high-contrast lighting and a palette of deep colors to reinforce Schumacher’s melancholy tone, while Harry Gregson-Williams’ score plays counterpoint, adding a sense of wonder and urgency.
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 The Other, To Kill a Mockingbird director Robert Mulligan does a great job engendering sympathy for a schizophrenic child who is channeling the spirit of his deceased twin. Chris and Martin Udvarnoky do a commendable job playing the boy and his ‘other,’ and famed acting teacher Uta Hagen is good as the Russian aunt who begins to put two and two together after a series of tragic ‘accidents’ happen on the family farm.
