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Showing posts with label romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label romance. Show all posts

SHOWBUZZDAILY @ PALEYFEST 2012: "The Vampire Diaries"





When the PaleyFest panels end, cast members often linger for a bit to sign autographs and otherwise make contact with the fans.  Therefore when the moderator says "Thank you" and the lights go up, there's usually a movement of audience members toward the stage.  But "movement" doesn't do justice to the full-scale rush that greeted tonight's salute to THE VAMPIRE DIARIES, a rock-concert level scramble that left onlookers ducking out of the aisles.


To some extent, that kind of response isn't a surprise:  Vampire Diaries is in its 3rd year as the unquestionably biggest--well, only--hit on CW, and the viewers who watch that network are younger and in better shape than those of the others.  Because of its genre and demographic, Diaries is also regularly underrated, almost never given full credit as one of the smartest, wittiest and most narratively satisfying serialized dramas on the air. 

The evening began with a screening of this coming Thursday's episode, the first back after a hiatus.  At the request of series co-creator/showrunner (with Kevin Williamson) Julie Plec, its climactic revelation won't be spoiled here, except to say that it's in keeping with the grand story twists that have marked this show from the beginning, and sets the stage for a new conflict to play out over the rest of the season.  

After a brief (inconclusive) discussion of said twist, the main part of the panel began.  Apart from Plec, most of the major cast members were in attendance:  Elena (Nina Dobrev), beloved of vampires and constantly stalked; brother vampires Stefan and Damon (Paul Wesley and Ian Somerhalder); Alaric (Matt Davis), who started as a vampire-hunter and is now Elena's guardian and a veritable vampire bud; witch Bonnie (Kat Graham); and relatively new vamp Caroline (Candice Accola).  

These folks have been together on a hit for years, and they're a loose, talkative bunch (the moderator mostly just had to toss in a question every so often and let them go).  Any spoilers were more in the nature of hints:  before the season is over, Elena will have to make "a" choice (but not necessarily "the" choice) between the brothers, we haven't seen the last of Klaus and the Original Vampires, it's possible that we'll meet Elena's parents in a flashback.  Plec was noncommittal about whether the show would ever consider following the L.J. Smith novels and making Elena into a vampire, or when evil Katarina, Elena's vampire doppelganger (just go with it) would make a return appearance.  Dobrev got the evening's biggest laugh when she wondered aloud why Gossip Girl got to film episodes in Paris and they were stuck in Mystic Falls.  Somerholder was appropriately Damon-ish caustic much of the time, but like his character, he could become surprisingly heartfelt, notably when he talked about how he'd survived the brutal audition process for the show.   Audience squeals greeted any mention of the Elena/Stefan/Damon triangle (and for those more interested in the tabloid side of things, Somerholder placing his jacket around Dobrev's shoulders made their night.)  

The Vampire Diaries airs in the toughest hour on television, the 8PM slot that's home to the deadly battle between American Idol and The Big Bang Theory, and yet its ratings have barely budged.  Beyond that success, it's as smoothly and effectively run as any series in primetime.  Young audience tastes change--Buffy the Vampire Slayer is a legend now, but when it left the air, its ratings had preceded it--and Diaries' status won't last forever.  Nonetheless, it should have plenty of frenzied audience response still ahead of it.




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THE SHOWBUZZDAILY REVIEW: "The Vow"



THE VOW:  Not Even For Free - Forget About It

This year has brought us a far-fetched, but ultimately moving and deeply romantic story about a couple who have finally gotten together and married after a great deal of turmoil and who then face their greatest challenge of all:  a fluke accident deprives the wife of any memory of her beloved, and when, despite all his desperate efforts, he's unable to make her remember their past, he sets out, with equal parts tenderness and determination, to make her fall in love with him all over again.

I speak, of course, of the final season of Chuck.

As it happens, the new movie THE VOW tells much the same story, only without the chase scenes and machine gun battles.  Unfortunately the filmmakers also left out the emotional depth and snappy dialogue that Chuck provided.  In their stead, we get much sappiness and almost nothing that's convincing.  


In The Vow's version, Paige (Rachel McAdams) and Leo (Channing Tatum) are 4 years married, and share a marital bliss that only movie couples about to suffer tragedy are permitted.  She's a sculptor and he owns a struggling recording studio; their combined incomes allow them to own a house and studio roughly the size of a city block.  One night a truck rear-ends their car, and Paige is propelled through the windshield in slow-motion (miraculously without shedding a drop of blood).  When she comes out of her coma, she's fine... except that she's entirely forgotten the events of the last 5 years, which includes her entire relationship with Leo.  As much as he lovingly leads her through their things and prompts her with memories, he remains a complete stranger to her.

The people she does remember are those from earlier in her life, and conveniently for the movie's sake, it turns out that this was just about the time she completely changed everything in her lifestyle, leaving law school, the suburbs, her parents (Sam Neill and Jessica Lange) and her then-fiancee Jeremy (Scott Speedman) for reasons that aren't revealed until the end of the story.  Since she doesn't remember the reason she left them, those are the people she now feels comfortable with, and she goes back to her former pre-marriage life.

This is where The Vow almost threatens to become interesting, because the old Paige was very nearly a Mean Girl, a rich, closed-off law student whose friends might as well be named Muffy and Heather.  A movie about a free spirit who retreats to the world of snobbery and creature comforts might have something on its mind, but this isn't that movie.  The script, credited to the team of Abby Kohn & Marc Silverstein (responsible for He's Just Not That Into You and Valentine's Day) and shockingly to the great Jason Katims, of Friday Night Lights and Parenthood (one would like to think his contribution was limited to Leo's recording studio, since it echoes a plotline on Parenthood), makes Paige's parents cartoons of well-off arrogance, and the ex-fiancee is of course an insensitive villain who ultimately has to be punched by Leo.  So Paige's desire to re-enter their clearly inferior world just makes her seem like an idiot, and the explanation of why she moved away in the first place is a silly plot revelation.

Tatum and McAdams are both likable, charismatic performers, and they're all The Vow has going for it (aside from one decent scene for Jessica Lange in the last reel), but they don't have the tools to create characters that aren't on the page.  Tatum mostly looks doggedly puppydogish (taking off his shirt at every opportunity), while McAdams alternates between "puzzled" and "troubled".

The direction of Michael Sucsy, who made the HBO Grey Gardens, is slick and completely lacking in personality, as are the technical credits.  You know a romantic movie is in trouble when the central couple temporarily break up and you find yourself thinking that maybe they really are better off apart; The Vow accomplishes the truly difficult feat of making Nicholas Sparks adaptations look nuanced and convincing.



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SHOWBUZZDAILY @ SUNDANCE REVIEW: "The First Time"


THE FIRST TIME may be too lovable for its own good.  Jonathan Kasdan's teen romance, which premiered in the Dramatic Competition at Sundance, couldn't be more straightforward:  in its opening minutes, it introduces the adorable Dave (Dylan O'Brien) and Aubrey (Britt Robertson), two hyper-articulate sweethearts who meet outside a suburban LA party neither of them particularly wants to attend, and who chat at length as though they're in a magical moment with the rest of the world in suspended animation around them.  The movie then follows them over the course of the next few days as they gradually acknowledge what we realized instantly, that they're utterly made for each other.


The model, of course, is the John Hughes canon, Hughes having become the J.D. Salinger of 21st Century coming-of-age sagas.  In this case, it's a dash of Some Kind of Wonderful with a pinch of The Breakfast Club's loquaciousness, along with some other post-Hughesians, notably the Kevin Williamson of Dawson's Creek days and the Robert Iscove/R.Lee Fleming She's All That, as well as (although he might not consider himself a Hughesian) Richard Linklater's Before Sunrise/Before Sunset duo. 

Dave and Aubrey really are charming, and listening to them rattle off smart, stuttering dialogue is all kinds of fun.  In his eagerness to bring them together, though, Kasdan fails to come up with much of a conflict to keep them apart.  Hughes himself was strongly aware of the way class figures into high school, and that's a critical undercurrent that often threatens the relationships in his films.  In The First Time, even the competing romantic interests for our hero and heroine are straw people, clearly vapid and unworthy, and the only obstacle Kasdan can think of to put in the couple's way is some unpromising sex (not really spoiler alert territory, given the title of the movie).  The result is a story that feels thin to the point of invisibility, and a romance that can sometimes feel like an exercise.

The First Time creates plenty of rooting interest, but little opportunity to root.  It's extremely pleasant to watch, anchored by Robertson and O'Brien (both CW veterans), and with good supporting work from Craig Roberts (from Submarine, a much more textured teen romance [that nobody went to see]), Victoria Justice, and token adults Josh Malina and Christine Taylor.  There's also lovely photography by Rhet Bear, and special note is due for collages supposedly created by Aubrey, which manage to be impressive but also believably teen-like.  The movie's very weightlessness, however, ultimately weighs it down--having no real surprises or tension, it feels anecdotal and unmemorable.
 


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THE BIJOU REVIEW: "The Twilight Saga - Breaking Dawn Part 1"



THE TWILIGHT SAGA - BREAKING DAWN PART 1:  Watch It At Home - The Saga Sags In Slow Prelude To The End

The worldwide phenomenon that is Twilight often finds itself compared to Harry Potter, and for obvious reasons:  both are multi-film, multi-billion dollar franchises aimed at young audiences and telling a single continuous story.  The two series, however, are more different than they are similar:  even leaving aside evident disparities in quality, the Potter films, like J. K. Rowling's novels, are crammed with plot, character and mythology, such that when Warners made the decision to split the final Potter novel into 2 feature-length films, the only disappointment was that even with 4 1/2 hours of screen time, there was still plenty in the book that had to be left out.


This appears not to have been the case with Stephenie Meyer's final Twilight novel, because until things liven up in the last half hour or so, BREAKING DAWN PART 1 is a long, slow slog through the romantic lives of everyone's favorite supernatural threesome, Bella, Edward and Jacob (in case names are needed, respectively Kristen Stewart, Robert Pattinson and Taylor Lautner).  The first half of the movie is almost exclusively concerned with the marriage and honeymoon of the Cullens, as Bella continues to practically vibrate in her impatience for vampiric sex and Edward continues to put off her loss of virginity for as long as inhumanly possible.  Finally he gives in on the private island where the two are honeymooning, and while the PG-13 rating doesn't permit us to see more than a tiny bit of what happens, the indications are that he just barely manages to restrain himself from killing her in the act--much, by the way, to her satisfaction.

A great deal has been written, of course, about Meyer's metaphoric treatment of virginity and her equivalence in the novels of premarital sex with death, and Breaking Dawn 1 makes that even more uncomfortable, mixing in implications of rough sex that results in Bella being covered in bruises that only leave her hungry for more (the kind of bruises that disappear entirely, to be sure, once Bella wants to don a sexy negligee).  Then we move on to a weird anti-abortion screed, as Bella instantly becomes supernaturally pregnant, and refuses to end the pregnancy despite the fact that the demon child is literally eating her alive from the inside.  (Even though she's not a vampire herself, Bella has to drink human blood to keep the little fetus--baby, an apparently pro-life vampire insistently corrects another--happy.)  But however disquieting this particular story's messages may be, the fact is that the horror genre will always be a landing place for queasy allegory, as everything from David Cronenberg's films to American Horror Story can testify.

Once Edward and Bella hurry home to tend to her dangerous pregnancy, we get the return of the fifth-est wheel in all supernatural romance:  Jacob the werewolf, who alternates between scowling and swearing undying loyalty to Bella even though she's rejected him an infinite number of times.  There's also way more about the werewolf code and pack politics than we could possibly need.  Meanwhile Kristen Stewart convincingly looks emaciated, while her vampire family hovers around with concerned expressions.  (Why is it, incidentally, that only Peter Facinelli's Carlisle has the complexion of Casper the Friendly Ghost?)  It isn't until Demon Baby is born (almost entirely off-screen, again presumably to avoid an R rating) that things spark with a little excitement before the finale's end of Act 1 of the story.

As a movie, Breaking Dawn 1 is better than the last chapter of the saga, but not as compelling as the original Twilight.  Bill Condon is known best these days as director of the classy Dreamgirls and Kinsey, but his early low-budget movies were in the horror genre, and even his biography of James Whale, Gods and Monsters, had genre sequences.  Aside from a few fun nightmare bits, though, he doesn't bring much personality to the film.  He's hindered by the plodding script (the adaptation, as always, is by Melissa Rosenberg), the need for a PG-13 rating and the format and styles that had already been set in place--Condon was presumably in no position to change the cruddy CG look of the werewolves.  One would like to think he wasn't responsible for some of the movie's truly terrible ideas, like a conversation among the werewolves played out in voice-over that's like a scene from a bad DreamWorks Animation flick (the audience laughed out loud at it), or the changes taking place in one character's body conveyed by CSI-type sequences of the camera zooming along CG veins and ganglia. 

Another difference between the Twilight and Harry Potter series is that the actors here haven't found anything new or deeper in their characters as their stories have continued.  Stewart is less mannered than she was early in the series--not so much stuttering or hair twisting--and is the best of them, but Bella still has little to do beyond casting looks of yearning, emotional agony and grim determination.  Pattinson is so much a pretty-boy that when the movie revealed that his sexual savagery had caused physical injury, the audience laughed once again.  And Lautner just plain can't act very well.  The supporting cast, virtually all of them back from previous installments, do what they'd done before, although it's odd now to see Anna Kendrick, a bona-fide leading lady in 50/50, reduced to playing a wisecracking high schooler again.  (Incidentally, for those who miss some of the most high camp characters of the entire saga, be sure to stay for a coda scene in the middle of the end credits.)

The Twilight franchise has also never had the visual or technical wizardry (sorry) of the Potter films.  Breaking Dawn 1 is glossily shot by Guillermo Navarro (his previous work includes Pan's Labyrinth), but its sets often look like they're shot on soundstages, much of the CG is second-rate, and even by the standards of movies aimed at a teen crowd, it has an unusually insipid score of pop songs.

Honestly, though, it doesn't matter much what one says about a Twilight movie:  the picture will doubtless make hundreds of millions of dollars both in the US and overseas, and the series will happily move along to its ultimate  conclusion just about a year from now.  And make no mistake, compared to Jack and Jill, Breaking Dawn 1 is Kurosawa and Gone With the Wind combined.  Audiences who want a satisfying, sexy, scary vampire story, however, would be better of tuning in to The Vampire Diaries on TV instead.

 

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THE SKED PILOT REPORT: The CW's "Hart of Dixie" - PREMIERING TONIGHT

Disclaimer:  Network pilots now in circulation are not necessarily in the form that will air in the Fall.  Pilots are often reedited and rescored, and in some cases even recast or reshot.  So these critiques shouldn't be taken as full TV pilot reviews, but rather as a guide to the general style and content of the new shows coming your way.

HART OF DIXIE -  Monday 9PM on The CW:  Change the Channel

HART OF DIXIE has one of those premises easy to encapsulate in a single sentence:  "Cristina from Grey's Anatomy stars in Northern Exposure--only in the South."  After all, Northern Exposure and Grey's are both solidly entertaining shows, so why shouldn't this work?  As it turns out, for lots of reasons.


Hart comes from Josh Schwartz's production company; he's the mind behind The OC, Gossip Girl and Chuck, but he's only a producer on this one and not the writer.  The script is by Leila Gerstein, who's been writing on Gossip Girl, and the difference in voice is obvious.  Our heroine, Zoe Hart (Rachel Bilson, herself a Schwartz veteran as one of the brightest presences on The OC) is a hard-driven young doctor who fully intends to become a leading cardio-thoracic surgeon in New York, just like her emotionally distant father.  When things go badly in the big city, she (implausibly) decides to dump her entire life and answer those postcards she's been getting since her graduation from medical school, joining the practice of the general practitioner in Bluebell, Alabama who's been sending them since he watched her deliver the class valedictory address.  In the ways of TV pilots, it turns out the GP's assistant (Nancy Travis, who'll have to be recast, since she plays Tim Allen's wife on Last Man Standing) has continued to send out the postcards even though the old doc recently died.  But guess what?  The deceased mysteriously left his half of the practice to Zoe in his will.  (I know, you've already guessed the only possible reason he'd do that, but let's not spoil it.)

Bluebell is a town that seems to pride itself on featuring the highest possible number of Southern cliches.  There are the belles who parade around town in Confederate-era gowns and who are led by the lovely Lemon (Jaime King), who's really the meanest of mean girls and whose name really is Lemon (for a more complex version of this character, wait for Bryce Dallas Howard in the upcoming film of The Help)--and hey!  the mean girl is also the daughter of the crotchety doctor who owns the other half of Zoe's new practice, and wants to drive her out of town!  There's also the local electric system that can't keep two bungalows lit at the same time.  And let's not forget the Mayor's pet alligator.  By the end of the pilot, Zoe's met her 2 potential love interests, one a hunky lawyer (Scott Porter from Friday Night Lights) who (oops) is engaged to the mean girl, the other a hunky bad boy (Wilson Bethel).  After initially wanting to run back to New York, she delivers a baby and darned if she doesn't realize that she can become a better human being and a better doctor by staying in a small town.  And she's found out the dead old doc's secret, cementing her place in Bluebell.

As obvious as all this is, with the right writing and production it could be entertaining enough--it's not as though the premise for Northern Exposure wasn't silly.  But Gerstein's script doesn't have any of the self-mocking, knowing humor that usually enlivens Schwartz's shows; it just unravels its cliches, good-natured but simple-minded.  Bilson is an extremely appealing actress, yet not so much an obsessive cardio-thoracic surgeon (try to imagine her playing Cristina in Grey's and you'll see the fundamental miscasting).  The supporting cast, even Porter, comes off as bland, with the exception of Cress Williams (also from Friday Night Lights!) as that Mayor, who has a sense of humor and his own secret.  And the pilot is an extraordinarily ragged piece of work, stitched together with enough voice-over narration for an entire season of Gossip Girl, and capped with an awkward Big Speech of exposition.     

All hope isn't lost for Hart of Dixie.  The CW has given it the slot behind Gossip Girl on Mondays, and none of the competition (the revamped 2 1/2 Men and Mike & Molly on CBS; House on FOX, and reality competitions on ABC and NBC) is aimed at its target young woman audience.  Now that the pilot and its burden of premise are out of the way, it'll just be a show about a cute young doctor in a small town, and maybe it can gather itself together.  If the series is going to be watchable, though, everyone involved, from the top down, has a lot of work to do.

 

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THE SKED PILOT REPORT: ABC's "Pan Am" - PREMIERING TONIGHT


Disclaimer:  Network pilots now in circulation are not necessarily in the form that will air in the Fall.  Pilots are often reedited and rescored, and in some cases even recast or reshot.  So these critiques shouldn't be taken as full TV pilot reviews, but rather as a guide to the general style and content of the new shows coming your way.

PAN AM -  Sunday 10PM on ABC:  If Nothing Else Is On...

Visually, PAN AM is a treat.  Just to be clear, this is the primetime series set in the mid-1960s that doesn't feature Don Draper or Playboy bunny tails.  While no series could possibly surpass the fetishistic accuracy of Mad Men (even though the Pan Am pilot is set in 1963, one of the songs on the soundtrack was composed for the Doctor Dolittle movie in 1967--it would give Matthew Weiner a coronary), Pan Am has a sleek, elegant look filled with terrific period detail; watching it, you feel like those plane sets could actually take off.  With Tommy Schlamme behind the camera (he's done all of Aaron Sorkin's shows, among others), Pan Am also moves rapidly and absorbingly through its mid-air paces.


In the dramatic region, the show hits more air pockets.  The script is by Jack Orman, who was showrunner of ER for years and has more recently written for Men Of A Certain Age, but who has less of a track record as a series creator.  The storylines are what one of the old Airport movies would have been like if no planes ever crashed:  mostly, a lot of tangled stewardess romances.  So we get the gorgeous Laura (Margot Robbie) who ran out on her own society wedding to make a life for herself; Laura's sister Kate (Kelli Garner), who's always been jealous of Laura and none too thrilled she has to share the spotlight with sis again; Colette (Karine Vanasse), who's French and unlucky in love; and Maggie, played by the cast's biggest name--Christina Ricci, in her TV series debut--but the sketchiest character, a political liberal who puts on stewardess garb for the sake of world travel.  (At least initially, the 2 pilot characters don't make much impression.)  Strangely mixed in with these suds is a story about one of the girls being recruited by an intelligence service to carry on mid-air espionage (John LeCarre it's not).

There's certainly potential to make something more of Pan Am's premise; a bit of dialogue toward the end suggests that behind their Barbie-doll exteriors, we should see these stewardesses as indicative of the new directions women will take as the 1960s unfold.  For now, though, it's pretty weak, uncompelling stuff.  While it's understandable that ABC wasn't interested in tackling the subtle, difficult tone of a Mad Men, at this point Pan Am doesn't even have the vitality of The Playboy Club's melodramatic pilot.  Luckily, the show's visual glamour and brisk pace should keep it aloft for a while as it tries to find itself.

ABC has given Pan Am a good spot on the runway, following Desperate Housewives on Sunday nights.  While it certainly won't touch NBC's football in overall 18-49s--assuming there's football this fall--it should appeal to the Housewives audience (the promos will look like a dream), and although Mitch Metcalf's Sunday projection shows it losing a chunk of that crowd and falling behind the aging CSI: Miami in the timeslot, it has a chance to do better--if it can figure out its own aerodynamics.

Read more about TV's new shows at THE SKED PILOT REPORT.

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THE SKED'S PILOT + 1 REVIEW: "The Secret Circle"


A lot can happen between the creation of a TV pilot in the spring and production of episodes for the regular season:  a writing/producing team is hired, audience focus groups weigh in, networks and studios (which may have had their own turnover in the off-season) give plenty of notes, both helpful and otherwise, and critics begin to rear their ugly heads.  The results can include changes to tone, pace, casting and even story.  Here at THE SKED, we're going to look past the pilots and present reviews of the first regular episodes of this year's new series as well.

Previously... on THE SECRET CIRCLE:  When Cassie Blake (Britt Robertson)'s mother is mysteriously killed, she goes to stay with her grandmother in the picturesque seaside town of Chance Harbor.  There she discovers that she is the sixth, and pivotal, member of a coven of teen witches, who will collectively wield great power if they bind themselves together.  What none of them know is that they're being manipulated by the survivors of the previous generation's coven, who had their powers taken away when something they did caused the deaths of many of the members.  That older coven--which includes the high school principal (Natasha Henstridge)--is responsible for killing Cassie's mother in order to get the girl to town, since the new coven's existence will somehow bring back their elders' powers.


Episode 2:  The biggest problem with The Secret Circle is that The Vampire Diaries exists (and airs as its lead-in), and although both shows are produced by Kevin Williamson and based on books by L.J. Smith, Vampire is infinitely more fun.  Circle is much more of a "teen" show, partly because some of the high school students in Vampire are actually hundred-year old vamps, but more because Vampire early on abandoned all but the barest pretext of teen life and turned to the business of intricately plotted, darkly romantic storytelling.  Vampire also has a flair for killing off just about any character at a moments noticej (not that they always--heh heh--stay dead), making for some genuine suspense, while the victim in tonight's Circle was so obvious that he should have been carrying around his own burial instructions.

In the series' second episode, written by Executive Producers Williamson and Andrew Miller, most of the action involved Cassie's deciding whether or not to join the coven's "binding spell" that would focus their powers but also place them under group control.  After she and designated cute-boy Adam (Thomas Dekker)--naturally another coven member's boyfriend--had adorably made lightbulbs fizzle and explode with their repressed passion for one another, and Mean Witch Diana (Shelley Hennig) almost killed a civilian, Cassie reluctantly agreed to the spell, and its casting ended the episode.

Thus far, Secret Circle is more than a little plodding.  Cassie, as played by Robertson, is all too normal, without any of the snap that Nina Dobrev brings to her heroine Elena in Vampire (even before we knew that Elena had an ingeniously bloodthirsty vampire doppelganger--but I digress).  The villains are a colorless lot, and with their very limited powers--they have to clutch a crystal to be able to cast any spells--they're none too scary.  The show's jokey references to Harry Potter aside, Circle needs a Voldemort--and fast.  

Secret Circle has the most cushioned spot on the CW schedule, with Vampire handing it a lead-in every other show on the network can only envy.  So unless the ratings collapse, it'll have an extended chance to prove itself.  But it's soon going to need sparks beyond the ones from its many shattered lightbulbs if it's to justify its existence.

Original Verdict:  If Nothing Else Is On...

Pilot + 1:  Keep Looking--Something Else Probably IS On

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THE SKED PILOT REPORT: PREMIERING TONIGHT - ABC's "Revenge"



Disclaimer:  Network pilots now in circulation are not necessarily in the form that will air in the Fall.  Pilots are often reedited and rescored, and in some cases even recast or reshot.  So these critiques shouldn't be taken as full reviews, but rather as a guide to the general style and content of the new shows coming your way.

REVENGE -  Wednesday 10PM on ABC:  If Nothing Else Is On...

Soap operas are a staple of primetime TV, and in recent years especially on ABC.  More often than not, though, they tend to come either encrusted with silliness and self-mockery (Desperate Housewives, Dirty Sexy Money, Big Shots) or mixed with other genres (the Shonda Rhimes medical shows, The Gates, Rookie Blue).  There haven't been all that many all-out, unapologetic examples of the genre lately; but the network's new series REVENGE wears its suds proudly and with some potential.  
 

ABC probably won't be mentioning "The Count of Monte Cristo" much in its Revenge promos, but that's the acknowledged inspiration.  Emily (Emily VanCamp) is a mysterious, wealthy, beautiful young woman who's arrived in the Hamptons to win the heart of the local prince (Daniel, played by Josh Bowman), son of the town's matriarch Victoria (Madeline Stowe).  Through the course of the pilot, we learn that Emily was once Amanda, daughter of a trusted employee of Victoria and her husband Conrad (Henry Czerny) who was framed by them, his life ruined to keep Victoria and Conrad out of jail.  Emily/Amanda's real mission is to destroy them all.  Naturally, there are other complications, like the one person in town who knows who Emily really is (Gabriel Mann), and the boy young Amanda loved, now a man Emily should avoid (Nick Wechsler). 

A show like this is trickier than it looks, treading a fine line between twisty drama and arch self-parody (when Victoria herself wants revenge on someone, she has them buy a Van Gogh rather than a Monet).  Writer Mike Kelley has an uneven record, with the underrated (and virtually unseen) Swingtown to his credit, but also the almost unwatchable The Beautiful Life.  He keeps his narrative balls in the air smoothly enough in the Revenge pilot, establishing a lot of basic relationships and conflicts, although a flash-forward prologue is awkward--it provides a big bang for the pre-title sequence, but probably won't be picked up again for many episodes, if not the entire season. 

The polished look and style are in part attributable to pilot director Philip Noyce, whose films include Salt and Clear and Present Danger, as well as the excellent Showtime series Brotherhood.  Noyce and Kelley have also cast the leads well.  VanCamp was one of the most engaging presences on ABC's Brothers & Sisters, and she handily conveys Emily/Amanda's mix of steel and vulnerability, while Stowe, who hasn't been seen often enough in recent years, makes a formidable adversary.  (The men in the show seem more interchangeable, although Czerny is a strong actor who'll no doubt get the best out of what the material gives him.)  At least in the pilot--beware of series episodes with lower budgets--the production values are suitably top-notch for the swank millieu.

Revenge has an interesting spot on ABC's fall schedule.  Mitch Metcalf's Wednesday projection has it in 3rd place in its timeslot, but if it catches on, there's potential for more.  It follows the network's Modern Family/Happy Endings hour, and its competition consists of the original CSI and the last remaining Law & Order, two geriatric shows that have both just lost their leading men; Revenge should at least nab a chunk of the women.  (It's not what you'd call a "guy's show," although Emily VanCamp isn't exactly hard on the eyes.)  If the series can manage to tell compelling stories without lurching into cliche--well, the TV version of that old adage is that winning your timeslot is the best... you know.  

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THE BIJOU @ TIFF: "The Deep Blue Sea"


If you were going to describe the films of Terence Davies (Distant Voices, Still Lives, The Long Day Closes, The House of Mirth) in one word, that word would not be "dynamic."  Or "kinetic."  Or, well, "exciting."  Davies directs stately tableaux, impressive and sometimes moving, but rooted in nostalgia and regret.


Which is why choosing him to direct THE DEEP BLUE SEA, based on Terence Rattigan's 1952 play (previously filmed in 1955 with Vivien Leigh), was somewhere between inspired and doomed.  Rattigan's play is all post-war repression, unrequited love and misery; Davies' film fully realizes those themes, and provides little else.

Deep Blue Sea tells of a romantic triangle where all three parties manage to be dismally unhappy.  When the story begins, Hester (Rachel Weisz) has left her stodgy, older husband William (Simon Russell Beale) for the younger and more dashing Freddie (Tom Hiddleston).  William truly loves Hester, but arouses no passion in her; Hester is obsessively in love with Freddie, but he has only superficial feelings for her.  Freddie, too, is depressed, because apart from the clinging Hester, he knows his life peaked as a WWII pilot, and now he drinks and treats her badly.  To give an idea of how depressing all this is, the play and movie begin with Hester's failed suicide attempt because Freddie had forgotten her birthday the night before (and it doesn't get any more fun after that).  

Davies makes the experience even grimmer than it has to be.  The film has been shot (by Florian Hoffmeister) in oppressive semi-darkness, which accurately reflects the mood of the characters (and probably also relates to the post-war rationing and hardship of the time) to a fault.  There is much lugubrious singing of old wartime songs, and the production design is pinched and despondent.  Deep Blue Sea has been compared by some to David Lean's film of Noel Coward's Brief Encounter, but while that, too, was a tribute to stiff-upper-lip emotion, it also had a swoony romanticism; Deep Blue Sea, taking place after the romance has already curdled, is just sad.

Weisz and Beale give very strong performances, even if there's limited scope in the film's interpretation of their characters--both make us feel the terrible emptiness of their lives and longing.  I don't know if it's possible in 2011 to give life to a bounder like Freddie, but Davies and Hiddleston don't manage to find any depth in him, and the other characters fade into the brownish background.  

The Deep Blue Sea seems to be exactly the film its director intended, plumbing the depths of human woe and unhappiness.  Its agonized depiction of despair, however, make it an acquired taste.

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THE BIJOU @ TIFF: "Your Sister's Sister"


Lynn Shelton's Humpday in 2009 was one of the most engaging pictures to come out of the mumblecore movement ("mumblecore," for the uninitiated = ultra-low-budget, small scale film with dialogue mostly improvised by the actors), and her new film YOUR SISTER'S SISTER, which premiered at the Toronto Film Festival last night, confirms that she's probably the most mainstream (that's not an insult) of the subgenre's practitioners.


Shelton, more than most of the mumblecore filmmakers, seems to be trying to find a middle ground between pure indie and popular moviemaking (after Humpday, she directed an episode of Mad Men, which with Matthew Weiner's iron-bound control over every detail, had to be a very different kind of experience).  The premise of Your Sister's Sister is commercial enough to be a mainstream comedy:  Jack (Mark Duplass, himself a mumblecore auteur with fine pictures like The Puffy Chair and Cyrus to his credit) is still trying to get over the loss of his brother a year before.  His brother's longtime love Iris (Emily Blunt) is Jack's best friend, and she lends him her family's cabin so he can have some alone time for introspection.  When he gets there, though, he finds Iris' half-sister Hannah (Rosemarie DeWitt) there--she's a vegan lesbian who's just broken up with her own longtime lover.  The two are vulnerable, increasingly drunk, and... well, what you'd expect happens.  The next one to show up unexpectedly, of course, is Iris, and now the three are all hiding huge secrets from each other.  

The mumblecore technique of long, improvisatory takes which are then edited into a coherent story can yield moments of startling reality, but often the films are also meandering and unfocused.  Your Sister's Sister, though, is bright and witty from the start (a hilarious scene where Jack disrupts the 1-year memorial gathering for his brother).  Duplass's expertise with this isn't a surprise, considering his loads of experience, but Blunt and DeWitt are better known for their scripted abilities, and they manage the new challenge wonderfully; the scenes of the two sisters together, especially, are filled with believably intimate moments.

For any good film produced in this style, the editor is worthy of special praise, and here that belongs to Nat Sanders, who also did Humpday, as well as the excellent The Freebie, with Duplass's wife Katie Aselton behind the camera.  (A literal parenthetical note:  The League, FX's comedy about a group of friends in a fantasy football league, stars Duplass and Aselton and may be the most underappreciated comedy on TV.)  The photography by Benjamin Kasulke (also a Freebie/Humpday veteran) is quite handsome for the tiny budget these pictures permit.  Ultimately, though, this is Shelton's show, and as she did in Humpday, she manages to take a contrived situation and treat it with great humanity and appreciation for detail, while not ignoring the opportunity for big laughs.  

Your Sister's Sister isn't going to do Bridesmaids business, and it moves at a pace that some audiences may find careful, but it's a funny, satisfying comedy-drama that's true to its process while delivering entertainment to a group larger than the people who made it.  It's one of the festival's pleasant surprises.

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THE BIJOU @ TIFF: "Ten Year"

TEN YEAR, which premiered tonight at the Toronto Film Festival, is one of the few festival movies that has the feel of a potential hit.  This is because, apart from its hugely engaging cast and, to be sure, some effective writing and directing, it's really not a "film festival" movie at all, but a totally conventional example of quality commercial entertainment--which works (the crowd went wild tonight) in or out of a festival venue.


Ten Year, as its title implies, takes us to one of Hollywood's most beloved situations:  the high school reunion.  (Beautiful Girls, Romy and Michelle, Zach and Miri, Grosse Point Blank, Something Wild--the list goes on.)  Jamie Linden's script (he also makes his directing debut) all takes place on the night of the big event, and Linden is not about to reinvent the wheel (his prior scripts include those hugely innovative projects We Are Marshall and Dear John).  Linden knows the satisfactions of multiple plotlines all reaching their predestined closures within the same confined time and space, and he provides them.

So we have the overgrown child-men (Justin Long and Max Minghella) who finally have to grow up and admit some tough truths; the party girl (Lynn Collins) with something to hide; the guy (Channing Tatum) with the perfect girlfriend (Jenna Dewan-Tatum) who can't bring himself to propose to her until he sees his ex (Rosario Dawson) one more time; the guy who turns into a sloppy drunk (Chris Pratt) and has to be taken care of by his responsible, loving wife (Ari Graynor), et al.  And let's not forget the swooniest crowd-pleaser of all (I should insert a mild spoiler warning here, for those who have never seen a movie before):  the guy who wrote the hit single (Oscar Isaac) and re-meets his old high school pal (Kate Mara) at the reunion, but somehow she's never even once heard his song until he sings it that night, and can you guess who the song turns out to be about?

It's easy to be cynical about all this, and certainly Ten Year would be a better film if it dared to risk something--anything--with an unfamiliar plot twist.  But conventions work for a reason, and here they're quite well done.  There's not a weak link in the cast, which also includes Anthony Mackie, Ron Livingston, Scott Porter, Aubrey Plaza, Aaron Yoo and Brian Geraghty (standouts include Pratt and Graynor, Long, Minghella and Collins, and Isaac and Mara).  And while as a director, Linden is far from a visual stylist, he's got a fine ability to juggle half a dozen storylines in 100 minutes and have all the stories come out pleasingly. (The editor, who was probably instrumental in making this come together, is Jake Pushinsky, who's worked a lot with Dito Montiel--probably not coincidentally, so has Channing Tatum, who is a producer as well as a star of this picture, and who starred in Linden's Dear John script.  The movie business is a small, small world.)

Ten Year is a movie that gives plenty of predictable laughs and sentiment, and that's not to be underrated--damn few Hollywood movies each year pull it off.  It's the kind of picture that, if you happen to notice it on cable 10 years from now, you'll tune in just for a few minutes and end up sticking with it to the end yet again.

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THE BIJOU @ TIFF: "Salmon Fishing In the Yemen"

The first substantial buy of the Toronto Film Festival (Shame had sold first, but for art film prices) turned out to be Salmon Fishing In the Yemen, a modestly engaging romantic comedy from Lasse Hallstrom. 

Hallstrom has made a career out of "modestly engaging," following his early distinction with My Life As a Dog and What's Eating Gilbert Grape with a collection that includes Chocolat, The Cider House Rules, The Shipping News and Dear John. All bittersweet romances, none particularly memorable. The same goes for Salmon Fishing, which is more on the Chocolat (humorous) end of his scale.

Salmon Fishing In the Yemen, from Simon Beaufoy's screenplay (based on what is reportedly a much more politically satirical novel by Paul Torday), is about exactly that. Ewan McGregor plays Alfred Jones, a fisheries expert who is approached by Harriet Chetwode-Talbot (Emily Blunt), on behalf of here client, Yemeni sheik (Amir Waked). As the title says, he wants to find a way to import salmon to the river he's created with a dam on the Yemen. Fred thinks it's impossible, and he and Harriet rub each other the wrong way: she thinks he's an officious obstacle, and he thinks she's out of her mind. Of such, of course, are movie romances born, once inconveniences such as his wife and her boyfriend are taken care of.

McGregor and Blunt are charming together, which makes the slog to the predictable ending easier to take. And Hallstrom and Beaufoy have a (not so) secret weapon in their supporting cast: Kristin Scott Thomas as the government press secretary, hitting every arrow of dialogue with a bullseye, even the duller ones.

Salmon Fishing In the Yemen isn't exactly what we think of as a "film festival" movie--it's the kind of innocuous entertainment that turns up on cable several times a day. In the context of the bleak and the difficult that makes up many festival days, though, it can feel like a relief. Those cable schedules can feel like a Lasse Hallstrom festival of its own some days, and Salmon Fishing will fit in perfectly.

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THE BIJOU @ TIFF: Sarah Polley's "Take This Waltz"


In just her second feature film as a director (her first was 2006's Oscar-nominated Away From Her), Sarah Polley demonstrates that she's already a filmmaker with rare grace and sensuality in TAKE THIS WALTZ, which premiered tonight at the Toronto Film Festival.  Blessed with yet another superb lead performance by Michelle Williams, Polley's film has the kind of sensitivity and artistry that gives film festivals a good name.


The story (which unlike Away With Her is a Polley original) is simple:  Margot (Williams), married for 5 years to Lou (Seth Rogen, in a subtle performance that doesn't have a trace of his usual screen persona), is feeling twinges of unfulfillment.  Although her marriage is comfortable, there's something not-quite-adult about it--they're a couple that does schtick instead of talking about their increasing issues.  Margot also dreams of writing seriously, but for now she merely composes guide pamphlets for tourist attractions. She meets a stranger on one of her business trips, Daniel (Luke Kirby), and indulges in some flirtation--which becomes more serious when she finds out Daniel lives right across the street, and she'll have contact with him almost every day.  Soon she's entertaining serious thoughts of a extramarital romance, but she's not quite sure she's ready to give up her settled life.

This is the stuff of a million novels and TV-movies, but Polley and Williams give every sequence the specificity of reality, and Polley pushes this to a sensual hyperreality with cinematographer Luc Montpelier (apart from working with Polley on Away From Her, he shot the beautiful Cairo Time); the colors pop off the screen, emphasizing the passions these characters are feeling and repressing.  Polley also uses music marvelously (the film's title is from a Leonard Cohen song, heard during a particularly memorable montage), and Matthew Davies' production design makes each routine location seem distinctive.

The cast is extraordinary.  Williams, at this point, is as entitled as anyone to be considered the leading actress of her generation, and this joins Blue Valentine and Wendy and Lucy as one of her best (and unlike in those films, here Williams gets to be funny as well as heartbreaking).  Even performing the simplest act or delivering the most ordinary dialogue, a complex of emotions seems to burn through her skin.  Kirby, mostly a TV actor until now, has powerful magnetism with her.  Joining Rogen (who, with a strong performance as well in the upcoming 50/50, is having a very good TIFF) as a piece of daring casting by Polley that works out beautifully, Sarah Silverman gives a completely convincing performance as Rogen's alcoholic sister.

Take This Waltz has its flaws.  I wish Polley had resisted making Daniel a sensitive artist who picturesquely makes his living as a rickshaw operator; the first part is hackneyed in a way the movie otherwise avoids, and the second unnecessarily calls attention to itself as a detail.  More seriously, after a pitch-perfect 90 minutes of intensified naturalism, the last section of the film goes in another direction that has lovely moments, but feels attenuated overall.  For the most part, though, the film is a superb second chapter in what is becoming an exciting directoral career.

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THE BIJOU @ TIFF: Gus Van Sant's "Restless"

Gus Van Sant has been making movies for 25 years, but Restless--apart from its technical polish--feels like the work of a Sundance newcomer. And one who's been reading too much Salinger, while meanwhile wearing out his DVD of Harold and Maude.

Restless is way beyond twee; its mega-tweeness is like a Transformers movie compared to a typical Syfy series episode. While certainly heartfelt, Jason Lew's script is nothing but affectation. Its hero, Enoch (!) (played by Henry Hopper, son of Dennis) has, since the untimely car crash death of his parents, treated death like a hobby. He crashes the funerals of strangers, draws chalk outlines around his own body, and has as his only friend the ghost of a Japanese WWII Kamikaze pilot. Clearly he needs to fully recognize and accept the emotional power of death.


Enter Annabel (Mia Wasikowska), who has the kind of magic movie cancer that kills you while causing no physical effect other than a pixie haircut. She and Enoch are made for each other, and once they're sappily in love (she memorizes descriptions of water-fowl) it's just a matter of waiting until Enoch sheds some really sad tears.

Van Sant is a gifted filmmaker even when his material is dross, and he works with a world-class team. (Not to mention a bigger budget than Sundance newbies can hope to have--that's an actual Beatles master playing over the opening credits.) Harris Savides, his customary cinematographer, contributes lovely, romantic-sad images, and Danny Elfman's score is all tinkling sentiment. For their parts, Hopper and Wasikowska are both excellent in their cliche-ridden roles, as is Schuyler Fisk as Annie's sister, the closest person on screen to a recognizable human being.

Van Sant is a hard-to-predict director, who moves from fine commercial product like Good Will Hunting and Milk, to esoteric art projects like Gerry and Paranoid Park, to occasional sorry efforts like Finding Forrester and (although the softhearted may disagree) this. He should be due for a good one next time out.




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THE BIJOU REVIEW: "One Day"


ONE DAY - Watch It At Home:  An Off-Day

What went wrong with ONE DAY?  It's been clear for a while that its studio, Focus Features, didn't have great confidence in the film:  first  they postponed the opening from its original midsummer date to late August (which has turned out to be an even worse destination than it appeared, now that it's facing the surprise smash The Help), and then it was withheld from critics until 3 days before hitting theaters--the same treatment given to Conan the Barbarian.  

All this came as an enormous surprise as it unfolded, because when the movie was being made, it seemed like the filmmakers were doing everything right.  They allowed David Nicholls, author of the best-selling and well-liked novel, to write his own adaptation; hired Lone Scherfig, fresh off the acclaimed An Education, to direct; and as the two leads, they cast Anne Hathaway, who's as talented as she is successful (an American, but that's not an insuperable problem), and Jim Sturgess,  a fast-rising British leading man.  And yet....

One Day, novel and film, is based around a narrative gimmick:  it introduces the protagonists Emma and Dexter (Hathaway and Sturgess) on July 15, 1988, the day they both graduated from college and had an almost-one-night-stand that turned into a friendship, and follows their story by presenting a snapshot of their lives on each July 15 that follows, all the way to the present (it turns out that the date has more significance than was at first evident, but to say any more would be a spoiler).  Although Dex and Em become best friends, they drive each other crazy (Emma's feelings for Dex aren't requited; Dex is such a shallow narcissist that he barely seems to have feelings at all) and are often apart over the years, each with career and romantic trajectories that rise and fall.  The novel provides a social history of life over the past two decades even as it builds up the portraits of its protagonists, and also has more than a little to say about the process of getting older and facing one's life in the real world. 

The film is, in a technical sense, a faithful adaptation of the book, in that it mostly follows the general events and storyline of the novel.   But it doesn't even come close to working in the way it's supposed to; it's limp and uninvolving, with no momentum.  A great deal of the problem turns out to be the very thing that made the book stand out in the first place:  its narrative scheme.  Even though each episode of the novel takes place on a single day per year, the nature of prose fiction is that Nicholls is easily able to go into the heads of the characters to present events that led up to that day and how their thoughts and feelings have evolved over the preceding year.  The movie, which squeezes the decades-long story into 106 minutes, can't do the same, and the result is that not only is the structure schematic, but most of the episodes are schematic too, loaded with exposition and having the feel of free-standing one-act sketches.  So much background's been cut that everything happening in the characters' professional careers feels arbitrary, and there's no nuance to them as people.

Added to this is the sad fact that there's no romantic chemistry at all between Hathaway and Sturgess.  Every time Emma and Dexter are together, they might as well have just been introduced; the emotional bond between them that's essential to pull the episodes together is absent.  The result is disastrous for the leads.  Hathaway doesn't give a bad performance as such, but until the film's last half-hour, Emma is defined almost totally by her pathetic love-lorn feelings for Dex--she's drained of almost all other emotions and relationships, and it makes her seem bland and borderline annoying (Hathaway's English accent is inconsistent and anonymous, which doesn't help).  Romola Garai, in a much smaller role that doesn't begin until the story's second half, gets more shading as a character than Hathaway does.  As for Sturgess, he's now starred in several major films (21, Across the Universe, The Way Back), and although his performances have been perfectly professional in all of them, he's yet to make a really striking impression.  He's never believable as a self-centered, insensitive man or someone out of control here--even when Dex is at his nastiest, Sturgess still seems like a nice guy--and thus his character's arc provides little satisfaction. 

In all the superficial ways, One Day is beautifully made.  Scherfig and cinematographer Benoit Delhomme have bathed the film in gorgeous light (even when the characters are living in shabby near-poverty), and there's a lovely score by Rachel Portman.  Barney Pilling's editing no doubt does what it was intended to do, which is to move briskly from one episode to the next  The production, hair and make-up, and costume design mostly do a fine job of shifting along the decades without becoming cartoonish.  Everything is there on screen, except the pieces that are most crucial.

One Day, with all its flaws, has an intelligence and skill that isn't evident in many Hollywood romances, but it lacks charm and passion.  It's a wan disappointment, a romance that doesn't linger even for a day in the mind or heart.
 

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THE BIJOU REVIEW: "Crazy Stupid Love"

 


CRAZY STUPID LOVE - Worth A Ticket:  It All Works


Without further ado:  CRAZY STUPID LOVE is the comedy of the summer.  Also the drama.  There are certainly spectacles out there now providing fantastic visual thrills, and some of them (X-Men, Harry Potter) are quite good, too; but if you want to watch an uproarious, surprising story about human beings whose only magic powers are for screwing up and somehow managing to keep trying again, this is your movie.



The script by Dan Fogelman (previously known mostly for cartoons like the original Cars, Tangled and Bolt) and direction by Glenn Ficarra and John Requa (themselves screenwriters, with idiosyncratic films to their names like Bad Santa and I Love You, Philip Morris) are triumphs of tone that mix slapstick with surprising poignancy.  The story begins with the marital break-up of Cal (Steve Carell) and Emily (Julianne Moore), a function of midlife crisis and Emily's straying with co-worker David (Kevin Bacon).  Cal is utterly bereft by the loss of his family, and his attempts to rejoin the dating scene are pathetically bad.  He's fascinated to watch a local Lothario, Jacob (Ryan Gosling) in action, and Jacob in turn is amused and horrified by Cal's failures; he takes Cal under his wing, teaching him tricks to attract women. 

This is the part of the movie featured in the marketing, and it delivers a lot of big laughs, fueled by the terrific comic chemistry between Carell and Gosling.  The great thing about Crazy Stupid Love, though, is that even that relationship has more to it than just comedy:  Cal may master Jacob's tips, but he's too genuine to use them without feeling, and on some level, Jacob envies that.  And all of this is just a slice of the film's portrait of romantic and family misadventure, which keeps expanding to such an extent that I can't reveal some of what happens toward the end without spoiling the fun.  We stay with the developing friendship between Cal and Jacob, but we're also following Jacob's own relationship with the reluctant Hannah (Emma Stone), a young lawyer who threatens to change Jacob's carefree theories about sex and life.  We watch Emily's experiences as a newly single woman, and the awkward crush her son Robbie (Jonah Bobo) has on his babysitter Jessica (Analeigh Tipton)--not to mention Jessica's own romantic issues.  At its best, Crazy Stupid Love recalls the classic Woody Allen movies of the 1970s and 80s, presenting a wide, varied portfolio of lovers both skilled and inept.

The cast is just about perfect.  Carell keeps his physical comedy emotionally grounded and delivers a performance more like his work in Dan In Real Life and Little Miss Sunshine than in his big-budget vehicles.  Julianne Moore is, as always, remarkably truthful even in comedy, and she and Carell fit together better than you'd expect.  Gosling is the film's major surprise, effortlessly shifting from the wrenching indie drama of Blue Valentine to reveal himself as a suddenly deft Hollywood comedian; it's no surprise at this point, though, that Stone is peerlessly appealing and smart.  Marisa Tomei is hysterical in a role that shouldn't be described in too much detail, and the lesser-known Bobo and Tipton more than hold their own in the ensemble.

Crazy Stupid Love is so smoothly engineered that it's easy to underrate:  Ficarra, Requa and Fogelman maneuver hairpin turns between pathos and farce as though they're moving up their own driveway.  There are a few minor missteps (the ending could be a little less neat), and the movie is content to work within the confines and style of conventional Hollywood filmmaking--there's nothing innovative about it.  (Although the cinematography by Andrew Dunn--he shot Precious, among many others--and editing by Lee Haxall are notably first-rate.)  But it affords the pleasure of a marvelous story, superbly told.

This has been an odd summer for comedy:  R-rated comedies aplenty, all of them proud of their own raunch, and all of them tremendously successful (only Friends With Benefits won't get to $100M, and even that film will do fine), but hardly anything geared to simple old-fashioned storytelling.  This could well explain the huge success of Woody Allen's Midnight In Paris, an intelligent, likable little film that's exploded (by indie standards) at the boxoffice, even though no one would seriously compare it to his classic work.  Crazy Stupid Love, with its PG-13 rating and largely older cast, seems unlikely to hit the first weekend heights of its rowdy mates--Mitch Metcalf is predicting a mild $16M opening--but it should thrive over time as people see it and spread the word.  It's sane exhilarating good.

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THE BIJOU REVIEW: "Another Earth" - Deep Space



ANOTHER EARTH - Worth A Ticket:  Tiny Story With Big Ambitions
 
For ANOTHER EARTH, the Sundance Film Festival went exactly the way it's supposed to.  The low-key picture was made on a miniscule budget (a few hundred thousand dollars) by complete unknowns, director/cinematographer/editor/co-writer/co-producer Mike Cahill and star/co-writer/co-producer Brit Marling, with far less buzz than many of the other titles at the festival, but by the time Park City emptied out, it had won a Festival award and something more valuable:  a US distribution deal through Fox Searchlight.  (Marling had an even better week:  another movie she starred in, co-wrote and co-produced, Sound of My Voice, was also acquired by Searchlight and will be opening soon.) 


Another Earth became a festival darling because it takes a lot of typical Sundance elements--a quest for personal redemption mixed with troubled romance and much contemplation of fate--and gives them an original, unexpected sci-fi bounce.  Marling plays Rhoda, a gifted science student who does something horribly careless the night she finds out that she's gotten into MIT, something that changes her life forever.  It also changes the life of John (William Mapother, perhaps best known as Ethan on Lost).  Some years later, Rhoda tries to apologize to John, who now lives a secluded existence far from others, but she can't quite make herself do it; instead, she becomes part of his life by pretending to be from his housekeeping service.  The two become increasingly close, but of course her secret will ultimately have to come out.

So far, so indie film.  What makes Another Earth different is that its title is (among other things) quite literal:  as all these events are transpiring, the world has discovered that a parallel planet to Earth exists, and is drawing closer to this one.  Communication is established between the planets, and travel to the second Earth is going to begin.  There is the revelation (mild spoiler alert--it's in the trailer) that at least to some extent, the new planet is a duplicate of ours, even including the people who inhabit it.  On a thematic level, this underscores the movie's exploration of the possibility of new beginnings, and the question of whether the lives we lead are in fact our destinies.  

Cahill and Marling do a marvelous job balancing the personal story of Rhoda and John with the (extremely low-tech) fantasy plot, culminating in an ending that manages to be satisfying even as it makes one hope for a sequel.  Another Earth is both emotionally involving and intellectually provocative, a neat trick even for filmmakers who have lots of extra zeroes on their production budgets.  Cahill provides evocative photography, and there's effective music by the group Fall On Your Sword.  The sparing special effects are lyrical, and despite the tiny budget, there's a terrifically executed trick sequence in the first reel. 

Wearing her acting hat, Marling gives a lovely performance as Rhoda, torn between guilt and yearning; Mapother, who's often played negative characters in the past (he was In the Bedroom's terrible ex-husband) does a fine job with a far more rounded role.  The story of the two of them could have been a satisfying film by itself; the added layer of speculative fiction makes it more than that.

Another Earth has some of the flaws familiar in low-budget indie films--metaphoric details (Rhoda works with a wise, disabled Indian man) are obvious, there are awkward stretches of concentrated moodiness.  But the picture works, and it identifies potentially major new talents.  That's a lot to accomplish with little more than dreams as overhead.
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THE BIJOU: "Submarine"


Worth A Ticket:  A teen movie unlike any other.

Richard Ayoade's emotionally rich SUBMARINE is shaping up as one of the sadder stories of the indie boxoffice season.   It was greeted rapturously at the Toronto Film Festival in September 2010, and the US distribution rights were acquired by Harvey Weinstein; Ben Stiller signed on to add his imprimatur (much as Oprah Winfrey and Tyler Perry had done for Precious).  Several months later, it turned up at Sundance, where it got less notice, since it already had a distributor and most of the critics had seen it the last time around.  Now, 5 months after that, it's opened without causing much of a stir (around $3500 in each of 17 theatres this weekend), so it may not be in multiplexes much longer. 


It's a small film, and I can't say it will be horribly diminished by being watched on a good home theatre system, but as always, the movie experience is best appreciated on a big screen.  Based on a novel by Joe Dunthorne, the story takes place in Wales.  Oliver Tate (Craig Roberts) is, as he would be the first to tell you, our protagonist.  Oliver isn't quite an outcast, but he's far from being one of the cool kids, and he observes his misadventures with some detachment, like a film fan watching a particularly compelling movie.  (He often imagines himself as the subject of a documentary or a foreign film.)  His parents (Noah Taylor and Sally Hawkins) are sunk in their own torpidity, and Oliver's most engaged moments are when he imagines himself with the subject of his crush, Jordana Bevan (Yasmin Paige).  He finds, much to his own surprise, that Jordana is interested in him too, and his (often horribly mistaken) interactions with her and with his parents provide the substance of the story.

Some have compared Submarine to a John Hughes film, others to Wes Anderson, and the great thing about it is that it's somewhere in between.  Ayoade's subject--and I don't know that any film has captured it better--is the utter self-consciousness and narcissism of teen years, that genuine feeling that nothing in the world could possibly be more important than your own pains and perceptions.  It can make even decent kids like Oliver treat the feelings of others callously.  In conveying this, Ayoade makes use of the formal sophistication you might see in an Anderson film (much fooling around with film stocks, structural ideas and motifs) to leaven and distance a Hughesian wit and heart.  Another not-so-shabby point of comparison is Renoir; like the master, Ayoade is fully aware of the awful things Oliver does, but he can understand and forgive him his failings. 

The movie isn't without flaws.  A chunk of the story is concerned with strains in the marriage of Oliver's parents, in particular with Oliver's fears that his mother may start an affair with an old boyfriend who's come back to town, now a garish psychic with a homevideo self-improvement course (Paddy Considine).  Although the 3 adult actors are very good, Considine's character seems to belong in another, broader movie.  And while Jordana has more shading than the love interests in most teen movies, the fact that the tale is told entirely from Oliver's point of view makes her a less developed figure than he is. 

All of this is outweighed by the film's special qualities.  Ayoade gets nuanced, rounded performances from Roberts and Paige, and makes gorgeous use of melancholy photography by Erik Wilson (he also shot Considine's extraordinary directing debut Tyrannosaur) and score by Andrew Hewitt, as well as a carefully chosen song score.  The movie feels all of a piece; there's nothing casual or unconsidered about any of his choices.

Submarine is the kind of movie that's extremely tough to market short of Harvey Weinstein standing on the street and pulling people into theatres (hey, he would have done it for King's Speech), especially in a summer season notable for its high-profile indie releases; it doesn't help that its long journey on the film festival trail seems to have diminished any momentum it might have had last fall.  It may never be widely seen on the big screen--it'll be sad, next week, to watch Fox Searchlight's insipid high school movie The Art of Getting By eclipse it--but those who see Submarine, in the multiplex or at home, won't forget it.

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"MIDNIGHT IN PARIS" : Ah, Paree!


Worth A Ticket; A tasty croissant from Woody Allen.

Woody Allen interrupts the opening credits of his new comedy MIDNIGHT IN PARIS to insert a montage of lovely Paris locations.  I mention this because after more than 40 years and as many films, the rules of Woody-land seem as fixed and immutable as the laws of physics, starting with his white-on-black credits.  This time, though, Allen has relaxed his grip, turned on the charm, and the result is something we haven't seen from him in a remarkably long time: a genuine comedy.  You can't really call it counter-programming to Pirates of the Caribbean 4 when one is in 4000+ theatres and the other is in 6, but for those lucky enough to live in one of the cities where it's playing, there's no comparison.



For fans of Woody Allen, it's almost impossible to view any new film he directs without immediately assigning it a place in his repertory.  So to answer the immediate questions:  no, Midnight In Paris isn't a return to the glory days of his astounding string of masterworks that ran, more or less, from Sleeper in 1973 through Crimes and Misdemeanors in 1989 .  (It wasn't an unbroken string--personally I'm a fan of Interiors and Stardust Memories, can't really defend A Midsummer Night's Sex Comedy or September--but still.)  It's not quite as great as his finest recent film, Vicky Cristina Barcelona.  But you'd have to go back to Small Time Crooks in 2000, maybe even Bullets Over Broadway in 1994, to find a more more sheerly enjoyable work by the master.

The problem with saying much about Midnight is that it's the first Allen film since, maybe, ever, that could use a spoiler alert--the movie's twist is its entire plot.  So stop reading after this paragraph if you don't want to know more than the basic premise, which is that Gil (Owen Wilson), a disaffected screenwriter working on a novel, has come with his fiancee Inez (Rachel McAdams) for a trip to Paris, where Gil indulges his passion for the history of the city (specifically the 1920s generation of Hemingway and Fitzgerald). while Inez shops with her parents (Kurt Fuller and Mimi Kennedy) and makes the acquaintance again of her old professor Paul (Michael Sheen).   Gil starts to wander the city at night, and...  

Here's the Spoiler Alert:  read on at your own risk.

At midnight, an antique auto pulls up where Gil is standing, and he's invited for a ride.  The passengers, it turns out, are none other than F Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald.  Somehow, he's been transported to the days of The Lost Generation.  The Fitzgeralds bring Gil to a party, and soon he's hob-nobbing with the likes of Hemingway, Picasso, Gertrude Stein and Salvador Dali.  Gil is intoxicated by life among the artists he's always revered, and soon enough he meets the lovely Adriana (Marion Cotillard), a designer and muse to many of the local geniuses.  He's smitten by her, and her period of life, and he finds himself needing to decide how--and when--he wants to live.

These themes aren't new to Allen:  just listen to the soundtrack to any of his films and you know his own affinity with the jazz era.  One of his most celebrated short stories is "The Kugelmass Episode," in which a modern-day professor finds himself in the world of "Madame Bovary," and any list of his greatest films would have to include The Purple Rose of Cairo, in which Mia Farrow's miserable housewife gets to interact with the movie characters she loves.  Midnight doesn't cut nearly as deep as Cairo--Gil's conflicts are relatively minor, and his "real" world exists in Allen's default, somewhat lazy millieu of well-off, erudite cardboard--and that makes it clearly the lesser film.  

Nevertheless, the movie gives great pleasure.  Owen Wilson is, somewhat surprisingly, the most engaging hero Allen's had in a long time, not only speaking the tricky dialogue without falling into Allen-imitation, but bringing heart to the role.  McAdams has the unenviable duty of playing the superficial, insensitive fiancee, but she underplays the bitchiness enough so at least you can believe she and Wilson as a couple.  It would have been nice if Cotillard's character had been written as more nuanced; nonetheless, she provides the dream-girl beauty the part requires.  Adrien Brody, as one of the 1920s celebrities, comes as close as anyone could to stealing the movie in just one scene, and Allison Pill and Kathy Bates are also marvelous as people of the time, as is Lea Seydoux as a sympathetic salesgirl Gil meets in the present.  Cinematographer Darius Khondji, encouraged to make Paris look as gorgeous as possible, has given Allen spectacular visuals, and Alisa Lepselter's editing keeps the movie moving smoothly.

Midnight In Paris touches on some heavy themes, like living in the present and (as ever with Allen) the use of art to hold back the uncertainty of a chaotic universe, but oh so gently.  It seems the movie, and its maker, mostly wanted to give us all a lovely holiday in a glamorous place, and that's what he's delivered.

(MIDNIGHT IN PARIS - Sony Pictures Classics - PG 13 - 94 minutes - Director/Script:  Woody Allen - Cast:  Owen Wilson, Rachel McAdams, Marion Cotillard, Lea Seydoux, Kurt Fuller, Mimi Kennedy, Tom Hilddleston, Allison Pill, Kathy Bates, Adrien Brody - 6 Theatres)

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SOMETHING BORROWED: The Weekend's Not-Thor



Watch it At Home;  Something Acceptable.

As romantic comedies with Kate Hudson go, SOMETHING BORROWED isn't so bad.  After her spectacular debut in Almost Famous, Hudson's become something of a brand name for dreadful rom-coms that nevertheless make money (How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days, You, Me & Dupree, Fool's Gold, My Best Friend's Girl and Bride Wars are among her milestones), getting to the point where you might want to groan just seeing her face in a trailer.  In recent years she's tried to branch out a bit with The Killer Inside Me and Nine, neither of which worked out too well at the boxoffice.  In Something Borrowed, she relinquishes the leading role to Ginnifer Goodwin (although she still takes first billing), opting for the more colorful foil part, and she seems as relieved as we are that she isn't the one pining for true love.
 
In Something Borrowed, based by Jennie Urman Snyder on Emily Giffin's novel, Goodwin plays Rachel, whose life is essentially defined by two relationships:  her childhood best-friendship with Darcy (Hudson) and her romantic longing for Dex (Colin Egglesfield--his name is like a James Ivory wet dream), whom she met and fatally introduced to Darcy when they were in law school.  (Also she has her confidant friend Ethan (John Krasinski), who behaves so much like the "gay best friend" in old movies, it seems odd that he's heterosexual.)  Rachel, who never stands up for herself and has always let the boisterous, self-centered Darcy take the lead, allows Dex to slip through her fingers when Darcy shows some flirtatious interest in him, and now Darcy and Dex are engaged and Rachel is vastly exceeding her quota of longing looks.  But one night a drunken, self-pitying Rachel reveals her pent-up feelings to Dex, and it turns out he feels the same way, and--welcome to the plot.  From then on, it's a mix of farce--Rachel, Dex, Darcy and Ethan all share a Hamptons summer house, where everyone has something to hide and Darcy is trying to fix Rachel up with hunky idiot Marcus (Steve Howey)--and low-boil drama, as Rachel tries to come to terms with her feelings about Dex and Darcy.



Movies like this aren't really about their storylines, which tend not to hold up to much examination.  They work (or don't) based on style and charm.  Here, Luke Greenfield (he directed The Girl Next Door, the picture that featured Elisha Cuthbert as a porn star but was mostly notable for Timothy Olyphant's turn as the villain) handles the cast well and keeps the train moving.  Goodwin is an enormously appealing actress, who as viewers of "Big Love" know is capable of much more than the wet-eyed, adoring glances and anxious tics asked of her here; after this and He's Just Not That Into You, she needs to diversify before she falls into Hudson's trap of becoming her own cliche.  Krasinski is the funniest person on screen, just as he was in It's Complicated; is there some Hollywood conspiracy keeping him from leading man roles?  Hudson, taken in small doses, is perfectly good as the monstrous Darcy.  (She and Goodwin have a late-night dance bit that makes you wish the movie would spin off its rom-com axis and take some risks.)  Egglesfield is somewhat a block of wood as Dex, which isn't unusual for the love object in these movies, but makes the very conventional ending feel even more dull.  

The one thing that's slightly refreshing about Something Borrowed is that none of its characters behave well; even our heroine is trying to steal her best friend's fiancee, however she may rationalize it.  There are even brief moments when the movie reaches for a taste of Woody Allen-ish emotional complexity... until it remembers its target audience.  In the end, it's just counter-programming, a little summery romance and laughter to balance the mighty hammer blows of Thor's opening weekend.  As the parade of 3D summer action spectacles commences, though, a Kate Hudson comedy that's bearable is a special effect that shouldn't be too lightly dismissed.

(SOMETHING BORROWED - Warner Bros - 110 minutes - PG 13 - Director:  Luke Greenfield -  Script:  Jennie Urman Snyder, based on the novel by Emily Giffin - Cast:  Ginnifer Goodwin, Kate Hudson, Colin Eggleston, John Krasinski, Steve Howey, Ashley Williams - Wide Release)    

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