Control (UK/USA/Australia/Japan 2007, Biography/Drama/Music), Writer: Matt Greenhalgh; Director: Anton Corbijn

I finally made it back to the ByTowne! And I didn’t even have to renew my membership, thanks to BD’s free movie passes.

We saw Control last week. (Wow—just writing this makes me crave ByTowne popcorn…) It’s a stunning, hyper-realistic documentation of the life of Ian Curtis, (Sam Riley) the deeply talented, volatile lead singer of England’s Joy Division. As Curtis’ problems with epilepsy, and self-diagnosed and misdiagnosed drugs, spiraled out of control, his depression and self-destructive tendencies worsened until he committed suicide at the age of 23.

The script is based on Touching From a Distance, a memoir written by Curtis’ wife Deborah. It unfolds very well, asking viewers to make a few leaps rather than spelling everything out word for word. And it doesn’t hurt that the dry British sense of humour comes through in little bursts.

Adding to the realism is the fact that Control is directed by Anton Corbijn, the photographer for Joy Division during the band’s heyday. With exceptional direction and gorgeous black and white cinematography, Corbijn recreates the atmosphere of Britain’s 70s rock scene with an insight that could only come from someone who lived through it. The film is a brilliant, bittersweet tribute to Joy Division, featuring some outstanding performances. Riley in particular is pitch-perfect; he delivers a painfully beautiful portrayal of Curtis’ mental illness.

Control is a bit like a stiff drink. It’s not everyone’s taste, so I don’t recommend it unilaterally to all of you reading this blog. But if you’re in the mood for something unusual, dark and honest, see this film. It will certainly be time well-spent.

Now I’m going outside to spend time in the cold, cold snow.

Me and You and Everyone We Know (USA/UK 2005, Comedy/Drama) Writer/Director: Miranda July

This was one of my favourite films of 2005. It’s such a funny, quirky, insightful piece full of odd-ball characters who do completely bizarre things that might seem insane in the real world, but just make them all the more endearing in the film. Like Richard (John Hawkes), who sets his hand on fire as a tribute to his failed marriage.

Me and You and Everyone We Know is about a lot of people who are all connected in some way. The main character is Christine Jesperson (Miranda July), a performance artist who pays the bills by driving elderly people around town. She instantly falls in love when she meets Richard, who is trying to deal with life as a newly-single father of two sons, Peter (Miles Thompson) and Robby (Brandon Ratcliff). The boys are resentful of their new living arrangements, and escape to the computer where they create intricate drawings using symbols and letters on the keyboard, and engage in online sex with Nancy (Tracy Wright), who runs the gallery where Christine wants to show her work.

The film was written and directed by July, and her background as a real-life performance artist really comes through. Aside from the fact that Christine is also a performance artist, there are parts of Me and You and Everyone We Know that are almost experimental. Odd little moments sneak up and insinuate themselves in the film, even though they’re completely outside of the narrative structure. Like the scene where the goldfish is stuck on the car roof.

A few things I love about this film:

1. The opening scene, when Christine does both voices for the two people in the photograph.

2. The scene in the gallery elevator, when Nancy refuses to accept Christine’s video in person and insists that she mail it back to her. (“But I’m right here.”)

3. Robby’s idea of online sex: “Back and forth. Forever.” Turns out some people really are into that kind of kinky shit.

4. The way that Richard and Christine instantly connect on their stroll down the sidewalk. Even though he completely freaks out afterward and shuts her down.

5. The push/pull dance of the ME and YOU shoes.

6. The tender moment on the bench when Nancy realizes that her online “lover” is actually a four-year-old boy. And then he comforts her instead of the other way around.

7. When Christine comes up behind Richard as he leans against the tree, and curls her fingers around his. Their chemistry is so intense in that moment.

Me and You and Everyone We Know is wonderful and sometimes absurd, and most of all, it makes you feel. I wish I’d made this film. Rent it!

Lars and the Real Girl (USA 2007, Comedy/Drama) Writer: Nancy Oliver; Director: Craig Gillespie

It’s been quite a few movies since I’ve been touched the way Lars and the Real Girl touched me.

The film is about Lars Lindstrom (Ryan Gosling), a delusional 27-year-old man with severe social phobia. He functions well enough to hold down a job, but can’t bear to be touched and spends his spare time looking out at the world through the window of the garage he calls home. So, his brother Gus (Paul Schneider) and sister-in-law Karin (the fabulous Emily Mortimer) are delighted when Lars wants to introduce them to his new girlfriend Bianca. That is, until they meet her and see that she’s a RealGirl—a life-size, anatomically correct sex doll. From Brazil.

At first, Gus and Karin are in shock. But, on the advice of Lars’ psychiatrist Dagmar (Patricia Clarkson), they choose to accept Bianca and welcome her into their lives. The beautiful part is that the rest of the small town they live in does the same. And so, Bianca takes on a life of her own, outside Lars’ imagination. She volunteers at the church and spends time with the local girls at the hair salon.

Lars and the Real Girl is a humble movie. Its cinematography is bland at best. The film was shot in King Township, Ontario and appears to take place during the bleak, colourless days between November and March. Even the sets and costumes are dreary; the actors are dressed down in drab clothing and wear little makeup.

In the end, it’s left to the film’s characters to bring colour to the picture, which they do in wonderful, uplifting ways. The entire community responds with incredible heart and compassion to Bianca, from Lars’ meathead co-worker Kurt (Maxwell McCabe-Lokos), to Margo (Kelli Garner), the sweet choirgirl whose crush on Lars proves to be a truly selfless love. Nancy Oliver’s script offers each character nuanced, realistic dialogue and creates a sweet portrait of simple, small-town life. Lars’ issues are beautifully revealed at a gentle pace. There is no exposition; instead, the backstory comes out in its own time.

Still, as good as the script is, the movie only works because of Gosling’s performance. He is quickly establishing himself among the ranks of such greats as De Niro and Penn. Gosling moves with ease from deadly (Murder by Numbers) to charming (The Notebook) to mentally ill. He is an absolute chameleon. In Lars and the Real Girl, he gives an astonishing performance. There’s a pivotal moment when Lars is wrestling with the decision to give up Bianca and face the “real” world. When he touches her doll face and kisses her doll cheek, he makes her as real for the viewer as for him. Absurd as the scene is, Gosling makes the moment heart wrenching rather than laughable. When he buries his face in her hair and sobs, you feel his pain, can practically feel your muscles clench as he clings to her. You never hold on to something so tightly as when you know you have to let go.

I can see why some people might be put off by Lars and the Real Girl’s premise. (I’m looking at you, SO.) But I recommend seeing the film anyway. Gosling gets you past the gimmick. And you’ll spend most of the movie laughing. Nothing wrong with that.

Gone Baby Gone (USA 2007, Crime/Drama/Mystery), Writers: Ben Affleck and Aaron Stockard; Director: Ben Affleck

Based on the novel by Dennis Lehane, Gone Baby Gone begins with the disappearance of four-year-old Amanda McCready (Madeline O’Brien). Unsatisfied with the police’s efforts to find Amanda, her aunt Bea (Amy Madigan) hires rookie private detectives Patrick Kenzie (Casey Affleck) and Angie Gennaro (Michelle Monaghan) to help track her down.

Knowing the film was helmed by Ben Affleck, I went in with a pretty critical eye on the direction, thinking of him as an actor rather than a director. But it didn’t take long for me to be pulled out of my over-analytical mind and start getting caught up in the film.

Although the storyline is a bit convoluted, Affleck clearly has a talent for writing. And as his directorial debut, the film definitely shows the promise of great things to come. In fact, Affleck might shine brighter behind the camera than in front of it. That said, his acting experience informs and benefits him as a director. It’s obvious he knows how to work with actors. Watching the film, you get a sense of how collaborative this project was and what a close set it must have been.

Gone Baby Gone has a slightly homemade flavour, probably due to the fact that Affleck is so familiar with the neighbourhood (the film is set in his native Boston) and because he cast locals in many of the smaller roles. The approach works well, making the characters and setting all the more believable. There are also several outstanding performances from the lead actors. In particular, Amy Ryan as Amanda’s mother Helene, Edi Gathegi as Cheese, and the always wonderful Ed Harris as Detective Remy Bressant. (I’ve got to see Pollock one of these days.)

Getting back to the storyline… Gone Baby Gone takes a bit of a twist about half-way through, which leads to a somewhat anticlimactic resolution. But I loved the closing scene. Unlike too many films, this one doesn’t fall back on trying to tie things up neatly with a clear-cut answer about right and wrong. And the final line says it all about what the people around Amanda really cared about—in spite of what they may have been saying all along.

Into the Wild (USA 2007, Adventure/Biography/Drama), Writer/Director: Sean Penn

Based on Jon Krakauer’s book of the same name, Into the Wild tells the true story of Christopher McCandless (Emile Hirsch), a young American who gave up all his possessions in search of the truth. Upon graduating from Emory University, Chris donated his savings—$24,000 USD—to Oxfam International and traveled across the United States, with Alaska as his ultimate destination.

This film really touched me, but I wonder how much of that had to do with where I was at emotionally the night I saw it. In retrospect, I think the movie is a bit like Chris’ own journey: it features some moments of real truth and beauty but is sometimes muddled along the way.

When Chris (or Alexander Supertramp, the name he goes by throughout most of the film) is alone in nature—when he’s running with horses, brought to tears at the sight of deer in Alaska, or paddling down the rapids on the Colorado River—the film is inspiring. But at 140 minutes, it goes on longer than it should. And although some of McCandless’ encounters along the way ring sincere, others reminded me of Mitch Albom’s The Five People You Meet in Heaven; they’re trying hard to be meaningful and deep, but come across as a little maudlin.

Overall, the story’s structure is handled quite well. The non-linear chronology flows nicely in most parts. And having Chris’ sister, Carine (Jena Malone), provide much of the narration works well because, like the viewer, she’s also trying to understand Chris’ motives. But the family flashbacks are a little corny. I’m thinking in particular of the scene when Chris’ father (William Hurt) beats his wife and refers to himself as god. (Although the scene does set up a beautiful contrast for a later moment in which Hurt casts his tearful eyes to the sky and falls to his knees, himself beaten down now, with loss, grief, regret and, hopefully, remorse.)

As Chris, Hirsch left me wishing writer/director Sean Penn had stepped out from behind the camera to pinch-hit. Hirsch is missing that magical ingredient all truly great actors have: the ability to think and feel as their character, and to convey that through the camera without even speaking a word. For a film that relies on its lead to carry the audience through silent moments of self-revelation, that’s a significant absence.

Chris lives very much in his head. He espouses philosophies and quotes from Tolstoy and Thoreau. “Rather than love, than money, than faith, give me truth.” At the beginning of the film, even in its second third, Chris says it’s a mistake to look to human relationships for happiness. Instead, people should find it all around them, in the rocks, in the trees, in nature. “Find your eternity in each moment.” He certainly makes a good case for the healing power of being alone. You can feel lonelier when you’re with the wrong people than when you’re by yourself.

But after escaping from his biological family to meet a series of substitute parents, Chris’ final revelation is this: “Happiness is only real when shared.” It completely undermines his entire journey, and yours as the viewer if you bought into his previous assertions.

On to Sean Penn… He is one of my absolute favourites. It’s exciting to see one of the greatest actors of all time finding himself as a director (Into the Wild is the fourth feature he’s helmed). But there are some strange choices in the film, including the decision to have Chris stare directly into the camera on more than one occasion. I didn’t understand that at all. Penn creates a world that’s supposed to be utterly real, a world in which the main character tries to shed all artifice and find his true self. And then Hirsch breaks character and mugs for the camera. Maybe it’s a self-reflexive nod to the fact that you’re watching a construct, a story that was made shot by shot and isn’t real at all; maybe it’s meant to ask the viewer to challenge the way they see everything, even this film. But it didn’t work for me; it just took me out of the moment.

Still, I get the feeling that all of this is just Penn continuing to test the waters as a director before he begins creating true masterpieces.

In the final analysis, I recommend venturing Into the Wild. Despite some drawbacks, the film features beautiful cinematography, some strong performances and a fantastic soundtrack by Eddie Vedder, and it will more than likely get you thinking about your own life and where you want it to go.

Eastern Promises (UK/Canada/USA 2007, Crime/Drama/Thriller), Writer: Steven Knight; Director: David Cronenberg

I feel like I need to see this film again before I can really write about it… But thanks to HC’s prodding, here’s my kick at the can.

After all the build-up to Eastern Promises (in my mind, anyway), the best way to describe it is as a shadow(box) of A History of Violence. It comes out swinging, but it just doesn’t carry the same punch.

There are a lot of parallels between the two films. Both feature Viggo Mortensen as a man who isn’t who he says he is. They explore the role of violence in society, and depict it so realistically that the violence is intolerably graphic (to me). Both films open with unknown thugs committing hideous murders, and feature ambiguous endings that are open to interpretation.

Eastern Promises carries the added weight of examining the interplay between two cultures trying to fit together. Set in London, the film explores the ruthless world of Russian organized crime. Sort of A History of Violence told between spoonfuls of borscht. Nikolai (Mortensen) is a driver for one of the most notorious Russian crime families in England. When a naïve midwife named Anna (Naomi Watts) discovers a diary containing dark secrets about Semyon (Armin Mueller-Stahl), the head of the Russian mafia family, she finds herself caught up in a dangerous world of violence and deception, and turns to Nikolai who appears to be the lesser of many evils.

It’s not that Eastern Promises isn’t a good film. It’s just that Cronenberg set the bar so high with A History of Violence, and his latest effort doesn’t have the same impact. In fact, it seems more like an effort than a labour of love. Eastern Promises lacks the strong undertones that simmered just below the surface of A History of Violence. And because it mirrors a lot of the latter’s structure, you begin to wonder why Cronenberg bothered to make Eastern Promises—what he was trying to say that he hadn’t already.

One thing that doesn’t disappoint is Mortensen’s performance. He really is a phenomenal character actor, capable of impressive physical transformations. He throws himself into the role of Nikolai, body and soul—from the accent and the tattoos, to the bold nude scene that is as graphic as the movie’s violence.

Although I don’t have the stomach for it, I admire the way Cronenberg portrays violence. In interviews, Cronenberg has said that he depicts it as realistically as he does because he wants the horror of death to hit home with viewers. There is nothing glorious about the violence in Eastern Promises. As hard as it is to watch (and I often don’t), it’s a much more respectful way of portraying violence than the exploitative manner in which most modern horror movies do, turning blood and guts into so much eye candy.

Eastern Promises is certainly worth seeing; it’s a solid effort by a skilled, talented filmmaker with a unique perspective on life (and death). But if you’re choosing between Eastern Promises and A History of Violence, I’d put your money on the latter first.

3:10 to Yuma (USA 2007, Western), Writers: Halsted Welles, Michael Brandt and Derek Haas; Director: James Mangold

I’m pressed for time to write this post, but if I don’t get to it soon I’m afraid I won’t at all, and that would be a shame because 3:10 to Yuma is a fantastic film. Definitely one I want to recommend. The first thing I did after seeing it was tell my stepfather to go see it. He loves “guy” movies and he loves great movies, and 3:10 to Yuma is definitely both those things.

The film is based on Elmore Leonard’s short story and is a remake of the 1957 film starring Glenn Ford and Van Heflin. James Mangold directed the latest version. It’s an excellent thing when you marry a genre like action or western with a filmmaker known for sensitive, complicated films that feature wonderful characters (Walk the Line, Cop Land, Girl Interrupted). You wind up with a unique take on genres that characteristically trade depth in favour of bullets and explosions.

3:10 to Yuma illustrates the point that all films, regardless of genre, benefit from strong character development. It’s what makes the Bourne trilogy superior to the Die Hard series. And it’s why Daniel Craig in Casino Royale was the most successful Bond to date.

The story follows the relationship between Ben Wade (Russell Crowe) and Dan Evans (Christian Bale). Okay, I realize it’s not sounding like much of a “guy” movie yet. But hold your horses! Wade is a deadly outlaw. And Evans is part of a posse that’s escorting Wade to Contention where he’ll catch the 3:10 train to the Yuma prison. It’s a dangerous job for Evans; more than one member of the posse meets with Wade’s violent ways en route to Contention.

Seeing this movie, I felt like I was back in film school watching a William Wyler western. It’s a classic western with the benefit of modern technology and all that it entails: excellent effects, sharp visuals, etc. But the reason it works so well is that the characters are believable. Crowe and Bale are a great pairing. Of the two, I’m partial to Crowe. Bale always strikes me as a little bit one note, although he was excellent in Batman Begins. But both give top-notch performances.

However, it’s Ben Foster as Charlie Prince who steals the show. From the moment we first look into his eyes, it’s evident how much work he’s put in to creating his character. You know that he has developed an entire history for Prince. And it shapes his every word, his every movement. Watch him steal the coat off a sleeping townsman and sweep it over his own shoulders. Foster is magnetic in every scene he plays in. (He’s also incredibly versatile; his Angel in X-Men: The Last Stand was 180° from Prince.)

I could go on. But not tonight. See this film!

War (USA 2007, Action/Thriller), Writers: Lee Anthony Smith and Gregory J. Bradley; Director: Philip G. Atwell

War brings together two of today’s hottest action heroes—England’s Jason Statham and China’s Jet Li—for the ultimate summer movie showdown. Sort of a wet dream for action fans everywhere.

Renegade FBI agent Jack Crawford (Statham) is on a mission to avenge his partner, who died at the hands of Rogue (Li), an elusive hit man who has worked for both the Japanese Yakuza and the Chinese Triads in San Francisco. As Crawford tries to bring Rogue down according to the rule of the law (for the most part), Rogue is busy turning the Yakuza against the Triads and creating an all-out war.

Rogue’s storyline reminds me of Akira Kurosawa’s 1961 film Yojimbo (one of my film school favourites), about a ronin, or masterless warrior, who turns two gangs against one another to take them both down. Indeed, Rogue says more than once that he serves no master. But War is less artfully made than Kurosawa’s film. It throws in too many twists and doesn’t show a proper appreciation for the culture behind martial arts, or the history of either the Yakuza or the Triads.

In one of War’s early scenes, Crawford chastises two white cops for not learning Japanese, despite the fact that they work in the Yakuza district. It’s a blatant attempt to show that the filmmakers are considering the “other” side of things. But later in War, when one of the Yakuza members tells Crawford he wouldn’t make it in Japan, Crawford says “This isn’t Japan” and shoots him dead, blowing away the film’s credibility as a respectful representation of the different cultures it depicts.

I know less about Chinese film than about Japanese film, so I’ll focus on the latter. From what I understand, Japanese audiences have a higher threshold for gruesome on-screen violence than do other film audiences. It serves as a release for a culture that is generally more reserved than, for example, North American society. Many Japanese films explore this tendency toward both tranquility and aggression by contrasting images of nature, beauty and stillness (flowers, paintings) with sudden bursts of violence.

Case in point: Takeshi Kitano’s 1997 film Hana-bi. Its title is translated as Fireworks, but the Japanese words actually mean “fire” and “flower,” a reference to both the rage and the calm that reside in protagonist Nishi’s (Kitano himself) heart. He is sweet and gentle with his wife, but is capable of extreme and ferocious violence when dealing with the Yakuza. There’s a scene that features Nishi eating in a restaurant, seemingly unperturbed by the thug who is trying to rile him up. In a flash, he rams a chopstick through the man’s eye, and then returns to his calm so quickly that you might wonder whether you’d imagined the whole thing, if not for the victim’s screams of agony.

Still, even when featuring explicit violence, Hana-bi and other Japanese films tend to reflect their culture in a thoughtful way that makes the violence appropriate, and even necessary, rather than gratuitous. War, on the other hand, features plenty of gratuitous violence, in the form of martial arts (though less than you would expect from a Jet Li film), boxing, gun fighting and sword fighting. Because the fight scenes aren’t as poignant and focused as those in Hana-bi (among other films), they lose some of their punch. In fact, the scenes tend to be confusing, thanks to some fairly frenetic direction. To my mind, confusing fight scenes result in bored and disengaged viewers; despite the fact that War is only 100 minutes long, it drags on and feels well over two hours.

War does get one thing very right: casting Li as a man of few words. A gifted martial artist, Li’s strength doesn’t lie in acting. But even Statham falls a bit short in this movie; he works better in slightly comedic, sarcastic roles than as a serious action star. The one-two punch of Statham being somewhat out of his element and Li having terrible delivery is a killer combination for War. The viewer isn’t drawn into their characters’ relationship, and a pivotal scene at the end of the film falls flat as a result.

In fact, the film’s conclusion is probably the worst thing about it. It’s abrupt and anti-climatic, as if the editors lost a reel of film and threw in whatever they had to cover the ending. It’s never a good sign when you leave the theatre thinking, “Huh?”

After Action Report: If you’re looking for a strong climax this summer, you’re better off staying in bed.