Tag Archives: Peter Sarsgaard

Boys Don’t Cry (1999, Kimberly Peirce)

Director Peirce makes an interesting choice with Boys Don’t Cry–she never gives the viewer enough information about Hilary Swank’s protagonist. As a result, it’s occasionally difficult to think of Swank as the protagonist. For the first eighty or so minutes of the film, Swank is just this skinny little guy who falls in with a questionable crowd of rednecks. Nothing in Swank’s performance indicates the viewer is supposed to take the character as anything but male (but Peirce frequently contradicts that approach, sometimes for dramatic purposes, sometimes for filmic).

Boys is often pointlessly over-stylized with time lapse photography and, at one absurd point, Peirce and co-writer Andy Bienen suggest its the way Chloë Sevigny (as Swank’s girlfriend) sees the world. But not because she’s huffing whip-its, which is the only reasonable explanation.

But the performances Peirce gets are astounding (so much so, when the actual facts show up at the end, there’s a disconnect between the actors and the people they portrayed). Swank’s fantastic–in that first eighty minutes, Boys is a shocking study of masculinity as Swank experiences it and the viewer does with him. Sevigny’s great. Peter Sarsgaard and Brendan Sexton III as the redneck villains are amazing; Sarsgaard gets more depth, so when Peirce shows it for psychopath Sexton, it’s even more affecting.

Excellent supporting performance from Alicia Goranson.

Awful Nathan Larson score.

Peirce can’t crack Boys; she’s too fixed on having a thesis statement. The actors ably carry the film to success.

2.5/4★★½

CREDITS

Directed by Kimberly Peirce; written by Peirce and Andy Bienen; director of photography, Jim Denault; edited by Tracy Granger and Lee Percy; music by Nathan Larson; production designer, Michael Shaw; produced by John Hart, Jeff Sharp and Christine Vachon; released by Fox Searchlight Pictures.

Starring Hilary Swank (Brandon Teena), Chloë Sevigny (Lana Tisdel), Peter Sarsgaard (John Lotter), Brendan Sexton III (Tom Nissen), Alison Folland (Kate), Alicia Goranson (Candace), Matt McGrath (Lonny), Rob Campbell (Brian) and Jeannetta Arnette (Lana’s Mom).


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Blue Jasmine (2013, Woody Allen)

There are a lot of interesting things Woody Allen does with Blue Jasmine–genre shifts, a somewhat fractured narrative style where he reveals lead Cate Blanchett’s past in glimpses–but the most surprising one has to be when she ceases to be the film’s protagonist and becomes its subject.

Blanchett sort of shares the picture with Sally Hawkins, who plays her sister. Blanchett was a rich New York wife, now she’s down and out and having to stay with working class Hawkins in San Francisco. For the first half hour or so, Allen plays it like he’s working on the relationship between the two women. Or maybe something to do with Bobby Cannavale as Hawkins’s current boyfriend or Andrew Dice Clay as her ex.

Allen gets some exceptional performances in the film. Blanchett’s peerless in the lead. She’s a target for derision, for pity, for anger, often with Allen having her change gears immediately during a scene. Hawkins is good as the sister; she doesn’t have much to do except react to Cannavale or Clay. Both of them are fantastic, with Clay being something of a revelation.

In other supporting roles, Louis C.K. and Peter Sarsgaard are both good. Baldwin’s fine in his part too. There’s just nothing to compare with the intensity of Blanchett, Cannavale or Clay.

Allen’s use of San Francisco is muted. Javier Aguirresarobe’s photography is excellent, but it’s just a setting for the story. Most of the shots are close-ups.

Jasmine’s quiet, loud and excellent.

4/4★★★★

CREDITS

Written and directed by Woody Allen; director of photography, Javier Aguirresarobe; edited by Alisa Lepselter; production designer, Santo Loquasto; produced by Letty Aronson, Stephen Tenenbaum and Edward Walson; released by Sony Pictures Classics.

Starring Cate Blanchett (Jasmine), Sally Hawkins (Ginger), Bobby Cannavale (Chili), Peter Sarsgaard (Dwight), Andrew Dice Clay (Augie), Louis C.K. (Al), Tammy Blanchard (Jane), Max Casella (Eddie), Michael Stuhlbarg (Dr. Flicker), Alden Ehrenreich (Danny) and Alec Baldwin (Hal).


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Orphan (2009, Jaume Collet-Serra)

Orphan‘s a peculiar failure. The script isn’t particularly good; it’s layered with foreshadowing upon foreshadowing and some very predictable turns. But it has these occasionally strong dialogue scenes between Vera Farmiga and Peter Sarsgaard. It runs out of them after a while, but they leave a positive memory.

Then there’s director Collet-Serra. He really likes crane shots in what should be enclosed spaces and he likes to use handheld when he should have a track. Orphan feels like an inexperienced director who got the opportunity to do a lot of things just because he could. Collet-Serra can’t do the two simple things Orphan needs him to do.

First, it needs him to tie a children’s story–Aryana Engineer and Jimmy Bennett get an adopted sister–to an adult’s story–Farmiga and Sarsgaard are new adoptive parents. Both of these stories (more Farmiga and Sarsgaard because of their fine acting, Farmiga in particular) have some strong moments. Scared kids is a classic, cheap movie standard and Collet-Serra can’t pull it off. It’s sort of embarrassing, because he doesn’t even seem to get it.

Second, he needs to give the family’s house a personality. He can’t. Some of it is lousy production design courtesy Tom Meyer, some of it is Collet-Serra’s incompetence.

As the film’s bad seed, Isabelle Fuhrman is mediocre. She can’t hold her accent and she’s never believable in hindsight after the big reveal.

Orphan‘s a boring thriller with bad direction and an excellent Farmiga performance.

0/4ⓏⒺⓇⓄ

CREDITS

Directed by Jaume Collet-Serra; screenplay by David Johnson, based on a story by Alex Mace; director of photography, Jeff Cutter; edited by Timothy Alverson; music by John Ottman; production designer, Tom Meyer; produced by Joel Silver, Jennifer Davisson Killoran, Susan Downey and Leonardo DiCaprio; released by Warner Bros.

Starring Vera Farmiga (Kate), Peter Sarsgaard (John), Isabelle Fuhrman (Esther), CCH Pounder (Sister Abigail), Jimmy Bennett (Daniel), Margo Martindale (Dr. Browning), Karel Roden (Dr. Varava), Rosemary Dunsmore (Grandma Barbara) and Aryana Engineer (Max).


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Knight and Day (2010, James Mangold), the extended cut

Cameron Diaz only gets to be unbearably obnoxious–her usual persona–when Tom Cruise is off screen during Knight and Day, which, luckily, isn’t often. Amusingly, Cruise’s absence coincides with supporting cast member Maggie Grace’s principal scene and seeing her and Diaz together is chilling… Attack of the content-less blondes.

Luckily, Cruise is around for most of the film and he makes it a breezy, amusing experience. There are a few concepts at play–it’s a James Bond movie told from the perspective of the good Bond girl, it’s Cruise slightly aping the Mission: Impossible franchise, but mostly it’s just seeing what a movie star can do. I find most of Cruise’s work post-Risky Business and pre-Magnolia to be unbearable (the male Cameron Diaz?), but Knight shows, whatever the hiccups, he’s a movie star and, thankfully, still able to turn in a good performance.

It’s unfortunate it’s not in a better script with a better director (Mangold’s reliance on awful-looking CG composites for action scenes is inexplicable), but couch-jumping has its costs.

Besides Paul Dano, who’s great in a small but essential role, the supporting cast is surprisingly weak. Peter Sarsgaard has a lousy accent, Viola Davis can’t figure out how to play a terribly written role… Marc Blucas is barely in the film, but he gives one of the better performances.

A lot of Knight and Day plays like Romancing the Stone, only less charming (Diaz is most appealing when playing drunk).

It’s up to Cruise to carry it and he does.

1.5/4★½

CREDITS

Directed by James Mangold; written by Patrick O’Neill; director of photography, Phedon Papamichael; edited by Quincy Z. Gunderson and Michael McCusker; music by John Powell; production designer, Andrew Menzies; produced by Cathy Konrad, Todd Garner and Steve Pink; released by 20th Century Fox.

Starring Tom Cruise (Roy Miller), Cameron Diaz (June Havens), Peter Sarsgaard (Fitzgerald), Jordi Mollà (Antonio), Viola Davis (Director George), Paul Dano (Simon Feck), Falk Hentschel (Bernhard), Marc Blucas (Rodney), Lennie Loftin (Braces) and Maggie Grace (April Havens).


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