Category: 2011

Drive (2011, Nicolas Winding Refn)

It’s amazing how much mileage Drive gets out of its soundtrack–not Cliff Martinez, though he does a great Tangerine Dream impression, but the licensed songs from Kavinsky and College. They deserve opening titles billing.

Drive is an eighties L.A. crime thriller with a slight seventies sensibility and some ultra-violence. It’s unclear why director Winding Refn thought it needed ultra-violence because, after the first instance, everything else pales. He even goes too far with a later scene of Carey Mulligan discovering the violence her Romeo, Ryan Gosling, is capable of. Otherwise, Winding Refn does an excellent job. He’s aping eighties Michael Mann (Drive was better when it was called Thief and starred Jimmy Cann) along with some John Woo, not to mention Walter Hill’s The Driver.

While there are some slightly unpredictable details, Drive is utterly predictable. There’s one question to the entire film–is Gosling going to make it? He’s a precise, successful criminal who breaks the rules because of his emotions. Of course things go wrong. Of course he turns out to be tougher than John Rambo.

Since it’s not an exercise in originality, Drive‘s mostly just a good excuse to be impressed with Gosling and Albert Brooks. Ron Perlman’s great in it, but he’s playing Ron Perlman. Mulligan’s okay, though somewhat unbelievable as the wife of a dumb criminal. She’s too delicate. Bryan Cranston is utterly wasted.

But Gosling and Brooks? They’re both outstanding.

Drive‘s not bad, but Winding Refn has nothing original to say.

2/4★★

CREDITS

Directed by Nicolas Winding Refn; screenplay by Hossein Amini, based on the novel by James Sallis; director of photography, Newton Thomas Sigel; edited by Matthew Newman; music by Cliff Martinez; production designer, Beth Mickle; produced by Michel Litvak, John Palermo, Marc Platt, Gigi Pritzker and Adam Siegel; released by FilmDistrict.

Starring Ryan Gosling (Driver), Carey Mulligan (Irene), Bryan Cranston (Shannon), Albert Brooks (Bernie Rose), Oscar Isaac (Standard), Christina Hendricks (Blanche), Kaden Leos (Benicio) and Ron Perlman (Nino).

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Unknown (2011, Jaume Collet-Serra)

Unknown is not a bad continental thriller. Liam Neeson is an American scientist in Berlin who wakes from a coma to find no one remembers him. As often happens in these situations, he finds himself a pretty sidekick (Diane Kruger) and a sympathetic native (Bruno Ganz) who try to help him unravel the mystery.

The film benefits a great deal from John Ottman and Alexander Rudd’s score, Flavio Martínez Labiano’s photography and the Berlin locations. Director Collet-Serra only has a handful of bad sequences—he likes the CG-aided slow motion a little too much—but he’s otherwise a perfectly mediocre thriller director.

Having Neeson for a lead helps too. He’s able to bring an air of respectability to the project, which would otherwise feel a little too pedestrian otherwise. January Jones—as his forgetting wife—doesn’t bring much substance too her performance and Aidan Quinn—as Neeson’s replacement—looks a little lost. Quinn gets this bewildered look from time to time, like he can’t believe he’s in this kind of picture. Neeson—who’s been doing these genre pieces for over a decade now—looks a lot more comfortable. Though it does occasionally seem like a thematic sequel to Darkman, which isn’t so much bad as unintentionally amusing.

There are twists, there are turns. There’s an ornate car chase (with unnecessary CG). The finale isn’t exactly predictable, but I’ve seen it before….

Unknown’s a diverting couple hours; Neeson and Kruger (oddly, a German playing a Bosnian) make it worthwhile.

1.5/4★½

CREDITS

Directed by Jaume Collet-Serra; screenplay by Oliver Butcher and Stephen Cornwell, based on a novel by Didier Van Cauwelaert; director of photography, Flavio Martínez Labiano; edited by Timothy Alverson; music by John Ottman and Alexander Rudd; production designer, Richard Bridgland; produced by Leonard Goldberg, Andrew Rona and Joel Silver; released by Warner Bros.

Starring Liam Neeson (Dr. Martin Harris), Diane Kruger (Gina), January Jones (Elizabeth Harris), Aidan Quinn (Martin B), Bruno Ganz (Ernst Jürgen), Frank Langella (Rodney Cole), Sebastian Koch (Professor Leo Bressler), Olivier Schneider (Smith), Stipe Erceg (Jones), Rainer Bock (Herr Strauss), Mido Hamada (Prince Shada), Clint Dyer (Biko), Karl Markovics (Dr. Farge) and Eva Löbau (Nurse Gretchen Erfurt).

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The Lincoln Lawyer (2011, Brad Furman)

The Lincoln Lawyer is—in addition to being, besides the cast, a great pilot for a cable series—a standard legal thriller. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a new one of these, probably because there are so many decent old ones to go through. Nothing in the film is a particular revelation, which might explain my lack of enthusiasm.

Star Matthew McConaughey is a basically good defense attorney who believes in justice. No surprises in his character. McConaughey essays the role fine.

Marisa Tomei’s his ex-wife (they’re still seeing each other) and an assistant district attorney. Tomei’s fine too.

Actually, wait. Josh Lucas stands out. As McConaughey’s opposing counsel, with more ambition than brains (and aware of it), he does a great job. Oh, and Michael Paré. He’s great.

The supporting cast is decent. No one excels—it’s a legal thriller, why bother? Ryan Phillippe, William H. Macy, John Leguizamo, Michael Peña, Laurence Mason, Frances Fisher—They’re excellent actors; they all give fine performances. But they’re just pieces in the wheel, not particularly important. The twists and turns are what’s important in Lincoln Lawyer and, like I said, it’s strictly television material.

One problem is John Romano’s script. I imagine he faithfully adapts the bestseller source material, but he doesn’t bring anything special or filmic to it. It’s a legal thriller. Why bother?

Director Furman has some decent composition, but he can’t bring personality to the L.A. setting.

It should probably be watched—and appreciated—on TV.

1.5/4★½

CREDITS

Directed by Brad Furman; screenplay by John Romano, based on the novel by Michael Connelly; director of photography, Lukas Ettlin; edited by Jeff McEvoy; music by Cliff Martinez; production designer, Charisse Cardenas; produced by Sidney Kimmel, Gary Lucchesi, Tom Rosenberg, Scott Steindorff and Richard S. Wright; released by Lionsgate.

Starring Matthew McConaughey (Mick Haller), Marisa Tomei (Maggie McPherson), Ryan Phillippe (Louis Roulet), William H. Macy (Frank Levin), Laurence Mason (Earl), Josh Lucas (Ted Minton), John Leguizamo (Val Valenzuela), Michael Peña (Jesus Martinez), Bob Gunton (Cecil Dobbs), Frances Fisher (Mary Windsor), Bryan Cranston (Detective Lankford), Michaela Conlin (Detective Sobel) and Michael Paré (Detective Kurlen).

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The Unwritten (2009) #30

The Unwritten 30

Carey’s resolution is unexpected. It’s sort of celebratory and life affirming (and shows he and Gross could easily spin-off titles from Unwritten) but it also has the series’s first big fight scene in a while.

And it’s a comic book fight scene.

While all the detours into literature (Dickens, Moby-Dick), one doesn’t often think of Unwritten as being cousin to capes and tights comics. Carey apparently felt the need to remind everyone this issue and it’s cool to see a reluctant wizard battle a Golden Age hero.

It’s Marvel-style, of course, so the two heroes team up afterwards. Except it’s not to fight a villain, it’s to have a really touching scene together.

The Creature shows up again this issue as a deus ex machina but he also gets to meet Lizzie and Savoy. There’s even the implication he might hang out a bit.

An excellent issue.

Things I Don’t Understand (2011, David Spaltro)

Spaltro tries to do a lot with Things I Don’t Understand.

The film starts with confrontational narration from protagonist Molly Ryman. The first twenty minutes feel like an extended trailer rather than the film itself, establishing Ryman as an unlikable, insincere egotist.

It turns out there’s a logic to the first person exposition, but it isn’t revealed until the end (which is a little late). The narration fades after the first half hour and Things finally gets moving.

At the core of the film is the relationship between Ryman and Grace Folsom. Folsom’s in a hospice with bone cancer; Ryman makes her acquaintance. The whole “dying person makes selfish person better” genre is a little tired, but Things makes it work. Folsom’s performance is stunning. Spaltro delays Ryman’s sense of altruism so far past the expected mark, when the character finally does grow, it’s no longer in the trite zone.

And then Spaltro keeps the story going… to a questionable finish. He gives Aaron Mathias, as Ryman’s tormented love interest, a lot to do and Mathias flops.

Spaltro’s a fine director. Gus Sacks’s photography is excellent too. Great sound design.

There is some outstanding work in the supporting cast. Hugo Dillon, Nabil Vinas, Mike Britt and Lynn Justinger are all fantastic. Lisa Eichhorn has a small part as Ryman’s therapist; they’re quite good together.

Sadly, the ending is terribly paced (the film’s both too long and too short), but Things achieves some significant successes. Folsom and Ryman (and Spaltro) excel.

1/4★

CREDITS

Written, edited and directed by David Spaltro; director of photography, Gus Sacks; music by Vita Tanga; production designer, Emmeline Wilks-Dupoise; produced by Grant DeSimone, Jason Shahinfar and Lee Gillentine.

Starring Molly Ryman (Violet Kubelick), Aaron Mathias (Parker McNeil), Grace Folsom (Sara), Hugo Dillon (Remy), Meissa Hampton (Gabby), Eleanor Wilson (Darla), Lynn Justinger (Zooey), Mike Britt (Big Felix), Nabil Vinas (Joe), Tracy Toth (Lisa) and Lisa Eichhorn (Dr. Blankenship).

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The Code (2011, Mark Blitch)

The Code starts with an extremely funny one liner. It’s maybe the most inspired one liner of its kind and with such a high achievement, the rest is undoubtedly in trouble.

Daylon Walton and Tamara Voss are the unfortunate horror film couple, necking in the woods, when the monsters appear. Except it’s not just one monster, it’s three (or four). Taylor James Brandt leads the zombies, who show up first. Todd Terry, as a chainsaw killer, interrupts them.

Bickering ensues. The dialogue isn’t great, but Brandt and Terry are absolutely fantastic. Brandt’s whining alone makes The Code worth a look.

Then a vampire shows up and another guest star. Then The Code falls apart completely. It’s not Blitch’s fault… at least not entirely. His composition and sense of movement are strong. It’s Voss. She’s awful. It’s like she doesn’t get the joke.

Regardless, it’s well-made; Brandt and Terry excel.

2/3Recommended

CREDITS

Edited, photographed and directed by Mark Blitch; written by Jason Walter Vaile and Alan Tregoning; music by Kevin MacLeod; produced by Blitch, Vaile and Tregoning.

Starring Daylon Walton (Chad), Tamara Voss (Vanna), Taylor James Brandt (Shaun), Todd Terry (Carl), Ben Cody Rogers (Neil) and Kevin A. Green (Kyle).

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The Artist (2011, Michel Hazanavicius)

While The Artist is a silent film about the silent film era, it quickly moves into the talking era. Probably in the first third of the film. Hazanavicius technically engages the transition a little–a dream sequence for protagonist Jean Dujardin–but for the majority of the film, it’s set in the late thirties and still told as a silent. Hazanavicius’s commitment to the constraint produces some great results.

The film juxtaposes the fall of Dujardin’s silent film star and the rise of Bérénice Bejo’s talking star. The two are tied from the beginning, but Hazanavicius isn’t telling a traditional love story. There’s no room for it in his narrative structure–The Artist is often told in summary, the film taking place over twelve years.

This approach focuses all the film’s attention on Dujardin; his performance is magnificent. Even when he’s on screen with other actors, particularly at the beginning, he is the whole film. But Bejo is astoundingly good too. She and Hazanavicius manage to keep her character vital yet never overshadow Dujardin.

Hazanavicius is comfortable with silent film storytelling techniques, though a lot of his composition mixes modern ability with silent sensibilities. He also embraces the sensibility of the cast staying youthful over a decade.

The supporting cast is small, but good. John Goodman and James Cromwell do well. Penelope Ann Miller is excellent.

The Artist excels because of Hazanavicius’s devotion to his constraints, but also because of Bejo and Dujardin. Without them, the film simply wouldn’t work.

4/4★★★★

CREDITS

Written and directed by Michel Hazanavicius; director of photography, Guillaume Schiffman; edited by Anne-Sophie Bion and Hazanavicius; music by Ludovic Bource; production designer, Laurence Bennett; produced by Thomas Langmann and Emmanuel Montamat; released by Warner Bros.

Starring Jean Dujardin (George Valentin), Bérénice Bejo (Peppy Miller), James Cromwell (Clifton), John Goodman (Al Zimmer), Penelope Ann Miller (Doris) and Missi Pyle (Constance).

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The Sixth Gun (2010) #17

Tsg17

Billjohn’s back. Heck yeah.

I’ve been missing Billjohn and Bunn and Hurtt reveal he’s back in the first couple pages this issue.

This issue finishes the “Bound” arc and shows how complicated Bunn’s plotting is on The Sixth Gun. While nothing big happened–except Drake’s disappearance–the reader learns a great deal about Becky and Gord. Bunn waits until now to reveal another layer to the whole picture as well.

He’s got to have some kind of outline.

There’s more action than in the last couple issues here, with Gord fighting himself (sometimes literally) as he struggles to deal with a devil. Sorry, couldn’t resist.

And then Becky has her big moment, along with a quieter one where she discovers more powers of the Sixth Gun.

This arc gives Bunn and Hurtt a lot more toys and somehow revitalizes the series, even though it didn’t need to be.

It’s excellent.

The Sixth Gun (2010) #16

Tsg16

I can see now why Bunn put all the action at the beginning of this arc. It’s not about action, it’s about the calm following the action.

For example, the scenes with the most action this issue are Gord’s flashbacks. Except it’s not exciting Western action, it’s the terrible things Gord went through. And it’s all off-panel. Hurtt either shows the lead up or the results. It keeps the issue active, but calm and dreary.

Bunn also comes up with some more great flashback tools. Becky’s father is able to look in on her from the past, which provides some necessary foreshadowing, makes the issue subtly tragic.

The issue, overall, is a complete downer. Gord remembers bad things and Becky discovers bad things (and people). As usual with Sixth Gun, it’s difficult to predict where Bunn is going.

Particularly great Hurtt art at the end closes the issue well.

The Sixth Gun (2010) #15

Tsg15

Anything after last issue was going to be a letdown and, while this issue isn’t as strong, Bunn and Hurtt are being very deliberate and careful. They’re slowly revealing the past of Gord and Becky. The beauty of The Sixth Gun being a supernatural Western is Bunn doesn’t have to use flashbacks.

Instead, he gets to use ghosts. In Gord’s case, the haunting is a little more literal for the most of the issue. While he’s walking through his past, conjuring up people long gone, Becky is getting acclimated to the weird monks protecting her.

She’s also pining for Drake, who’s missing (but not suspected dead).

The monks live in this huge castle and I really hope Bunn explains a castle in the Old West. I don’t doubt he’d explain it well, I just really want to read it.

Hurtt’s art is calm and quiet, silently majestic.

Gun‘s reliably strong.