Any Human Heart (Miniseries)

Any Human Heart (2010)

Starring Jim Broadbent, Matthew Macfadyen, and others.

Something a little different today... Rather than writing about a film, I thought I'd tell you about the recent British/PBS miniseries called Any Human Heart. Based on a book I hadn't heard of by an author named William Boyd, this showed up on my DVR and my family decided to give it a go...

Any Human Heart is about the life of one man, Logan Mountstuart, from youth to old age. It tells his story through several narrative devices including the idea that, as an old man, he is reflecting on his life as he sorts through boxes of papers, journals, and photos. Logan is a compelling hero, though he is certainly flawed, and even unlikable at times. This is a kind of Forrest Gump type of story -- with Logan reporting on the Spanish Civil War, being a spy in World War Two, meeting Ian Fleming and Ernest Hemingway, etc. At three-parts long (each part being roughly over an hour), the story is not rushed by any means -- it takes its time. 

Logan's life is tragic. He loves, and loses. Things don't always (or even often) go his way. He is a failed writer. But despite all this, there is something lyrical and beautiful about the way this miniseries handles his life. The title comes from a quote by Henry James, which is introduced by Laura Linney in the Masterpiece miniseries: "Never say you know the last word about any human heart." In my opinion, the "thesis," if you can call it that, which this quote as the title speaks to, is that one should never suppose to know everything about another person, let alone ourselves.

The most creative and interesting part of the story is how it deals with his aging. As you can see in the poster, there are three main actors who play Logan -- the first when he is in college, the second in his middle years, and then the third when he is retired and older. I prefer this very much to the bad aging of an actor using makeup or, even worse, CGI. The best part about this was that this was done consciously -- with the idea that humans become "different people" at different stages of their life. Each actor's Logan was slightly different, and that's perfectly okay because Logan himself -- the character -- was a different person throughout his years. This was much better than a film which doesn't acknowledge the actor has suddenly changed. As I understand it, this is particularly good since the book deals with a theme of multiple selves, so not only is this cinematic magic at its best, but an adept adaptation. 

Along these lines, I know that the book this was based upon is written in the form of a journal... and the film also preserves this in adaptation. Logan is often seen writing in his journal (his words given to us through narration), which gives us wonderful insight to HIS human heart. From time to time, when Logan has left off journaling and is returning to it, we hear him give a brief rundown of his status: age, health, happiness, etc. A fascinating way to describe a life in progress. 

In all, I enjoyed this phenomenally, though it is the kind of thing that probably missed getting  noticed by many people. For something so simple -- the story of one man's life -- this film was extraordinarily creative in HOW the story was told. And the acting was Masterpiece at its best... Jim Broadbent and Matthew McFadyen in particular were incredible. The miniseries format was really well-suited to this story as it was nice to get into a story and not have it end in two hours... to actually get a more detailed depiction of the human heart was wonderful. 

Remains of the Day

Remains of the Day (1993)
Directed by James Ivory. Starring Anthony Hopkins and Emma Thompson.

This is a quiet, subtle, emotional, and incredibly beautiful film. It's about a man who is strictly the product of his time... and what happens to him when the world moves on from his day and age. It's about responsibility, duty, honor... and what happens when a man puts those things ahead of happiness and love. It's about the intersection of two lives, the clash of ideologies, and differences in values. Though it lost all of its eight Oscar nominations (mostly to Schindler's List), Remains of the Day is in every way a masterpiece.

Anthony Hopkins plays an English butler named Stevens in the day and age where the staff of a large country manor was an elaborate tangle of people, hierarchies, and roles. Rather than just focusing on the clashes between upper classes and their servants, this film toggles back and forth between the heyday of Darlington Hall, and its more stripped down state in a time closer to the present. Like the house he once served in, Stevens, in the film's present, has been stripped of the glorious responsibilities of his post, left to reflect on the past as he drives across England to visit an old friend... Emma Thompson's character, who was Darlington's housekeeper Miss Kenton. The plot thickens, as they say, from there. As Stevens considers the past, the audience learns of his almost-romance with Miss Kenton, the maniacal devotion to his duties inspired by his father, and the Nazi-friendly leanings of the lord of Darlington.

As I understand it, the book this film was based on, (of the same title) by Kazuo Ishiguro, is largely grounded in Stevens's thoughts. How, then, to communicate the same powerful emotions in film? Rather than reaching for the usual and cliched narrative voice-over to provide insight into this reserved man, Hopkins pulls off a fiercely stoic performance. Rather than providing more insight, the audience gets less. It's as if, by holding back, he releases a floodgate of feeling. As a viewer, you are free to read onto Stevens what you will, which makes you extremely invested in the outcome of the story.

The power of the story, first and foremost, rested in the storyline between Stevens and Miss Kenton. The "will they, won't they" question in their relationship is extremely compelling. And, though I've already addressed Anthony Hopkins's acting, it's important to add that Emma Thompson is right on par. She so desperately wishes to get through his butler facade, to break his hardened shell of duty and reach the heart below, that you can't help but wish it also.

Of course, equally interesting is the political sympathies the lord of the manor displays... Though unable to label him exactly as "evil" despite his conspiring with German Nazis before WW2, he is certainly misguided. What brings this plot line to life is Stevens solid determination to refuse to see his master's guilt...even in the present. Throughout most of the film, it's unclear if he even heard what was said in Darlington, let alone considered the importance of who was talking. There's an important scene, after Darlington has played host to an international conference of sorts, when an American senator (played by the late great Christopher Reeve) stands and claims everyone has it wrong, that they all shouldn't be messing with what they don't know, and that they're all amateurs to think rubbing elbows in a country manor will prevent a war. I've been fascinated lately with different takes on what the world was like right before WW1 and 2. It's one thing to consider the wars and their aftermath... and another entirely to get a sense of the time in the months leading up to them.

In the end, this film is about what is left at the end of the life... what remains, at the end of the day. This is a film about a man who chooses the responsibility as a butler to "his" upper class family over his own happiness. The question is, can he live with this choice, many years after the fact? After so many semi-lighthearted takes on this genre (Gosford Park, the recent BBC/PBS show Downton Abbey, etc), it was nice to see one that wasn't afraid to wallow in the consequences of the hard decisions in life.

Animal Kingdom

Animal Kingdom (2010)
Directed by David Michôd. Starring James Frecheville, Guy Pearce, and Joel Edgerton.

83rd Oscars - 1 Nomination: Best Supporting Actress (Jacki Weaver)

This film is a very interesting portrait of an untraditional family in Australia. The main character, played by a newcomer actor with remarkable stoicism, moves in with his criminal uncles and saccharine grandmother after his mother overdoses. He is instantly submerged in the world of cops and robbers -- where both sides seem equally lost and lawless. The name is fitting, as I reflect on the film, as a kind of animal madness and violence seems to have taken over the lives of these characters. There is an mafia undertone to the twangy Australian accents as the world seems governed, above all else, by loyalty to one's family. Guy Pearce, the only really well known face in the movie, plays a solemn detective trying to make sense of the whole thing and help the main young boy. I certainly would not have seen Animal Kingdom had it not shown up on the Oscar list, but it was a film that pulled me in, to say the least.

Of course, as she was nominated for the Best Supporting Actress category, one must consider Jacki Weaver's performance as the grandmother with extra care. It's hard to know what to make of this character. There's something extra creepy about her, from the way she relates to her sons (often kissing them on the lips for a tad too long, as an example) to her overall too-perky demeanor. Yes, she steals scenes. However, I would wager that there is one scene alone that earned her a nomination. Near the end of the film, (not spoiling too much), when her boys are in prison, she must take over and set things right. She effortlessly talks someone into helping her (aka blackmails/threatens them), but in the most insanely evil, saccharine way possible. This scene simply leaves you saying, "whoa," and though it is such a fragment of the film, the idea that this side of the grandmother has been there all along, below the surface, makes it an impressive performance.

I wouldn't recommend going out of your way to see this film, but if you like the gangster genre (particularly a different take on the classical mafia films), I would advise you to check it out.

Rebel Without a Cause

Rebel Without a Cause (1955)
Directed by Nicholas Ray. Starring James Dean, Natalie Wood, and Sal Mineo.

What makes an icon? Is it an iconic performance? A short-lived life with a tragic ending? A way of talking, walking; a presence?

Rebel Without a Cause presents an icon: James Dean. It was released in the same year Dean died and the film became a cult hit due to its association with this iconic individual.

This film fits into a genre that was new to Hollywood in the 50s: the teenpic. As film audiences waned due to a variety of reasons (including the migration to the suburbs, and TV chief among them), movies were increasingly targeted to a specific audience. Teenagers were a new demographic, with plenty of money to spend at the movies... enough to deserve films specifically made with them in mind.

On top of that, Rebel Without a Cause had its finger on the pulse of the time, tackling the key issue of a rise in juvenile delinquency. This movie, while not the only one to do so, was probably the first to so thoroughly personify the growing restlessness in the new generation of youth.

Furthermore, it manages to capture what it's like being a teenager, which is something that certainly has not or will not change, and enables the film to ring true today. Everyone is angry, and they don't know why. They want to prove themselves, but they don't know to whom. They're stuck straddling childhood and adulthood, living in both and neither world simultaneously.

Dean is impressive, showing off the newly developed Method Acting in which an actor was able to be more expressive by channeling personal experience and emotions through their character. The "chicken run," in which Dean and another character drive their cars toward the edge of a cliff, waiting to see who will be a coward and jump out first, tragically echoes Dean's death.

The film is GORGEOUS, especially after a semester of black & white. It features the then-newly developed CinemaScope widescreen and Warnercolor vivid color film. Facing increasing competition from TV, the film industry began to put a great deal of effort into technologies that would set movies apart from their in-the-living-room enemy. Color, widescreen aspect rations, and even 3-D were created around this time.

Though I understand some extent to which Rebel Without a Cause is a classic film, this was my first viewing of it. It's difficult to grasp everything -- Dean's performance, the emotional characters, the romance, the technology -- so I look forward to seeing it again in this future. All I know is that I was missing out on a great film, so if you haven't yet seen this classic movie, I strongly recommend you do so.

Blue Valentine

Blue Valentine (2010)
Directed by Derek Cianfrance. Starring Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams.

83rd Oscars - 1 Nomination: Best Actress (Michelle Williams)

This is the first of the Oscar films -- and really of any of the films I've reviewed on this blog -- that I didn't care for, no, stronger... I didn't like. I wouldn't recommend it, though of course you may have different tastes in film than I do. Blue Valentine charts the course of a relationship from its beginning to its end. The film tells two stories in a parallel fashion; that of "boy meets girl", and that of "boy and girl's marriage implodes" several years later.

I found this film to be uncomfortable to watch and overly harsh in its creation of the main couple. I wasn't clear if the audience is supposed to root for them to stay together -- as was my initial instinct since we are also watching them fall in love -- or for them to just get it over with and separate -- which is where I ended up out of just plain dislike for both of the characters. I should add that I really wanted to like this film. It was created by a graduate from my school, so I feel a sense of pride (and reassurance) that Derek Cianfrance made it to the silver screen and Oscar nomination list with a big feature film. I even defended it as I walked out of the theater with my viewing companion. It was a very real portrayal of life (and that's a good thing), it took a non-Hollywood approach to love (which is refreshing), it was very creatively done... or so I argued.

But over time, I've come to realize that I didn't enjoy this film, and I didn't find any interesting ideas to make up for not liking it. It's non-traditional in its portrayal of love, but to the point that makes me miss the traditional approach. I mean, even though romantic comedies are full of fluff, you don't leave the theater feeling like my heart has been trampled repeatedly. It's not that I don't like breakup films -- Revolutionary Road from a few years ago was tragic and intense, yet poignant as well. The performances in Blue Valentine by Gosling and Williams were good, I suppose, in that they totally created a pair of people that felt so real that I knew their flaws by heart and hated them. The aging in the two plotlines was subtle and the distance between them was carefully built up. Furthermore, this film had one of the most subtle flip-flops in time that I've ever seen, from falling in love to falling out of it. This was probably my favorite aspect of the movie's style. As Roger Ebert says in his review, it "moves between present and past as if trying to figure out what went wrong." This feeling is carefully constructed, and it makes me wonder what other films Cianfrance is capable of creating.

Perhaps I haven't lived and loved enough to appreciate the nuances of this film's portrayal of the course of a relationship. Yes, I fully admit that this film may have gone over my head. But aside from that, this story was too far away from filmic conventions, from my comfort zone... that I just couldn't reconcile what I was seeing with what I'm used to seeing in this genre. I think this is what makes it stand out for some, but it didn't work for me. There were many films in this year's Oscar season that I had to stretch as a film viewer to see. They were out of my usual genres and taste, and I was glad I gave them a go. The Fighter, Rabbit Hole, 127 Hours, Black Swan ... these were all films I didn't think I wanted to see, but that I was glad I saw afterwards. Blue Valentine simply doesn't fall in this same category.

High Noon

High Noon (1952)
Directed by Fred Zinneman. Starring Gary Cooper and Grace Kelly.

Moving on from my myriad of 2011-Oscar-nominated film reviews, I return to Film History. Let's head to 1950s Hollywood. This is a period defined by its historical context and, for many of the movies, (including High Noon) you can't separate the time in which the film was made from the film itself.

The 1950s in the US should conjure up thoughts of the Cold War, fears of communism infiltrating America, Senator Joseph McCarthy and the HUAC hearings, etc. Key for a discussion of this film is the last item in my list. Numerous Hollywood individuals were called up to defend themselves against accusations of ties to communism, and to hopefully name other individuals with communist sympathies in front of the House of Un-American Activities Committee. Those who didn't cooperate with the Senate were then blacklisted by studios, meaning they weren't allowed to work again until they were re-categorized as friendly witnesses. Those who did name names were seen as sell-outs by some, patriotic by others. These events ruined countless careers and even some lives. In short, it was a terrible time all around.

In the film industry, this was also a period of re-vamping genres, giving them a "higher gloss treatment." Whereas Westerns, for example, had previous been seen as b-pictures, they were now given bigger budgets and treated more seriously. The same happened with the musical, historic epic, film noir melodrama, and teenpic genres.

Though High Noon is a western and a period film, it should be read as more about the time in which it was made than anything else. It is an allegory of the HUAC Hearings and the blacklist. Its basic plot is that of a Sheriff meant to leave town immediately following his wedding, but when he hears that a notorious criminal is out of prison and heading his way on the noon-train, he decides to stay behind and fight. Despite everyone urging him to go and no one being willing to help him, he makes his last stand alone. It's about a community not standing behind a hero, much like the Hollywood community not standing up for each other, but instead "naming names" for Joseph McCarthy and the Senate. In the film, like the real world at the time, it's unclear who bears responsibility for events and who is doing the right thing.

Of the figures involved in the film, Gary Cooper (the main actor) was a friendly witness at HUAC, while the screenwriter was actually blacklisted by Hollywood executives during the production of High Noon. So, an interesting mix of people were involved. This is a film that tries to deal with (and perhaps work through the psychological implications of) all the ups and downs of the time, while still using the staples of the Western genre. Because, yes, there is a lone gunman, clearly defined villains, a Quaker wife, a Mexican ex-girlfriend, a shoot-out, etc.

This film is interesting for two further reasons. First, it actually takes place roughly in real-time (meaning the plot-time = the time it takes to watch the movie). The time between when the noon train is due to arrive and the end of the film exactly corresponds with the time it takes events to elapse. The use of this technique builds tension and, I'm guessing, would have been a big breakthrough in a time before the TV show 24. Second, this film is marked by it's iconic score, which is basically just one song. One song, repeated in different variations, throughout the entire film. Oh, and the lyrics of this song just happen to reveal the plot of the entire film. Interesting, right? I admit, on the second viewing of High Noon, I found this to be annoying, but on the first, I thought it really tied the movie together.

Overall, this is a film that would appeal to buffs of the Western genre, history lovers, real-time action connoisseurs, and film students alike. It's complex but can also be simplified to a fun and exciting surface-level viewing.

127 Hours

127 Hours (2010)
Directed by Danny Boyle. Starring James Franco.

83rd Oscars - 6 nominations: Best Picture, Actor (James Franco), Editing, Writing (Adapted Screenplay), Score (A.R. Rahman), Original Song.

Of all the best picture nominees, I wavered the most about whether or not I wanted to see 127 Hours. I love Danny Boyle -- his Millions to Slumdog Millionaire are excellent -- and I think he has a great ability to find beauty in the human spirit. Furthermore, I find survivor stories uplifting, and I recently read the fantastic book Miracle in the Andes by Nando Parrado (about a plane crash). Lastly, I continue to be intrigued by the man that is James Franco. Despite all this, I just didn't know if I could handle watching a man cut his own arm off on film. I had almost written it off completely when I decided I was going to see all of the Best Picture and Acting nominees regardless of any qualms I had.

Above all, I need to tell you that this film is INCREDIBLE. I wholeheartedly recommend that everyone see it (if you're squeamish, close your eyes at the end!) and am disappointed it got overshadowed by more predictably Academy-friendly films like the "triumphant and edgy biopics" of The King's Speech and The Social Network. [By the way, the arm-cutting is, quite honestly, such a small moment in an otherwise completely beautiful film, that it's certainly not a valid reason to skip the film altogether.]

Aron Ralston (Franco) at the beginning of the film cannot be tamed. He lives with a wild abandon, throwing himself into the middle-of-nowhere in Moab, Utah; carelessly grabbing supplies, and figuring he can always return his mother's phone call tomorrow (...if only he had picked up that phone and told her where he was going). Once out on the trail, he bumps into two girls, lost, and offers to give them directions. He leads them on a special route that involves sliding down a narrow crevice, and then dropping several hundred feet into a pool of luminescent blue water. And, I have to say, he makes the audience want to take that drop with him. He is a man who wants to live, and live hard -- and the film lures you into his carefree and adventurous spirit.

That's why it's such a surprise -- even though you probably know what happens in the film -- when a rock shifts and he falls and ends up trapped. The ultimate wild child has been pinned down, and at first, neither you nor him want to believe it. But then you do. He assesses his supplies, and realizes that he didn't tell anyone where he was going. Round about this time is when the film's title card actually comes on the screen -- surprising, because it must be a good 30 minutes into the film. When "127 Hours" shows up, you realize that the title is like a stopwatch... how long can he survive?

My favorite scene in the film features Ralston, who keeps his moral up by talking into his video camera until the battery dies, enacting a talk show. With the use of camera angles and sound effects such, Ralston is made to be the host, guest, and call-in listener, all in one. This scene, and the whole film in general, makes me admire James Franco to the nth degree. This isn't a film of ensemble cast members playing off each other for maximum effect -- what you see for almost the entire film is Franco, carrying your attention, and messing with your emotions for an hour and a half. And, boy, does he put you through the emotional ringer. He plays so many roles -- so many "types" of Ralstons, if you will, that it really brings new meaning to "Best Lead Actor."

I could go on and on about this film -- and I already have -- so let me round off this discussion by commenting on how artistic it was. There's something very non-classical about Danny Boyle's approach to this film. One simple shot in particular springs to mind... before Ralston is trapped, as he's hiking toward his destination, he runs his hand along the fluid red Moab rocks. The camera follows him closely, arching over the smooth stone. It's a small moment with breathtaking beauty and significance to the film. Furthermore, Boyle  utilizes multiple cameras and split-screen in an interesting way. He lessens the blow of the final gory arm-hacking moment with the use of an impressive array of fast cuts. He highlights Ralston's experiences with hallucinations, memories, and dream sequences. It's incredibly thoughtful and makes for quite the masterpiece. Bravo!

Biutiful

Biutiful (2010
Directed by Alejandro González Iñárritu. Starring Javier Bardem.

83rd Oscars - 2 Nominations: Best Foreign Film, Best Actor (Javier Bardem).

It's hard to say what Biutiful is really about. I can tell you that the plot involves a man living in Barcelona after he finds out he has cancer. It deals with his family -- two children and bipolar wife/ex-wife. It shows his work, which deals with the immigrant underground workforce (Chinese factory workers and African street-hawkers). It even deals with his ability to communicate with ghosts, as tangential as it is. In short, it's a beautifully done film, but it's hard to pin down what it's trying to say or what to take away from it.

I often feel that films from Spanish-speaking countries (Biutiful is from a Mexican director) are speaking a different cinematic language than I understand. They deal with narrative and meaning in a foreign way compared to what I am used to. I know this sounds obvious, but I've been watching French and Italian and even Russian films for two semesters now and with those, I'm able to grasp what the filmmaker is trying to do. With recent Spanish films -- not just Biutiful but also the work of directors like the great Pedro Almodovar and even Guillermo del Toro (in his less Hollywood-based work) -- I get the distinct feeling that I'm missing out on understanding what is significant.

Maybe I'm too American in my viewing expectations in that I expect a film to say something, rather than just handle big ideas, which this film certainly does beautifully. Letting go of that expectation, let me say that I was impressed by this film's portrayal of love, life, and death. There's a scene that sticks in my mind in which Bardem pauses while walking home at twilight, and looks up to see a flock of birds fluttering this way and that against the darkening sky. Birds are often the symbol of the soul, so perhaps this scene is saying that how an individual makes peace with guilt, pain, and loss relates to their soul.

What made this film worth watching was Javier Bardem's performance. He is the heart and soul of the film. His solemn face and gravelly voice keeps the film from dropping into abstraction. He is an anchor amongst all the film's emotions and ideas. It's easy to see why this was the Oscar nominated performance of the movie. Overall, largely because of Bardem, I thought there was something haunting about this film -- something I can't pin down, which makes it all the more mysterious and memorable.

Black Swan

Black Swan (2010)
Directed by Darren Aronofsky. Starring Natalie Portman, Mila Kunis, and Vincent Cassel.

83rd Oscars - 5 Nominations: Best Picture, Actress (Natalie Portman), Directing, Editing, and Cinematography.

This is an impressive psychological thriller. You're thrown into a world where perfection is the name of the game. Nina (Portman), a ballerina who recently scored the lead part in a production of Swan Lake, must learn to embody both the White Swan (which aligns with her naive personality easily) and also the sensual and dark Black Swan. As Nina descend into madness, the film follows, and the audience's grip on reality fades. By the end, it is nearly impossible to know what to believe and what's in Nina's mind.

It's really unusual to have a film (or perhaps I just don't usually watch the type of film) that makes it so you have NO IDEA what to believe. When the madness of the main character is as much a truth as the true events in her life, I think the audience really gets inside the character's mind. In addition to Nina's madness, this is a film about paranoia and duality. Nina flickers from worrying about her understudy Lily (Kunis) to her mother to simply fearing herself and what is happening to her. It is this last fear which I think is the most fearsome "evil" of all, for if you can't trust in yourself, what do you have left? All in all, these are powerful thematic elements that, despite the fairly simple story, make for a complex and interesting film.

This film is also quite melodramatic -- which is an interesting label since the term comes from "music" + "drama." Of course, since the film is centered around Nina's profession as a ballerina, music is key because it brings her dance performances to life. The soundtrack is loosely based on Tchaikovsky's music, so much of it brings up classic ballet scores. However, the soundtrack was composed by Clint Mansell, who has worked with Darren Aronofsky before, on films like Requiem for a Dream (which I haven't seen). I guarantee you know the key piece of music from that film as it has been used it gazillions of trailers.

Black Swan is out of my usual filmgoing comfort zone, as with many Oscar films I viewed this year, and I can't really compare it to other psychological thrillers. I certainly found it suspenseful, misleading, and creepy (partly due to the CGI additions, as when Nina plucks a real black feather out of her skin). I'm not sure if it would have been as big of a hit this year if not for the Portman's dedication to actually honing her skills as a ballerina. Indeed, this is a role that I don't think any ol' actress could play. It takes the right kind of innocent demeanor and yet comfort on the screen (she's been in films since she was a child).

Just one note from the film history part of my brain: I think it's interesting that this film cannot escape the shadow of THE ballet film of all time, The Red Shoes (1948). This is a film that I have yet to see, but it is fascinating to me that one movie can come along and define an entire topic for over 50 years. Does ballet just lend itself toward one kind of story? Or did that film simply tell the story so well that no one else has tried until Black Swan? Interesting to ponder, particularly if you've seen both.

Overall, I think this film is most eerie because the echoing suggestions it makes that resonate with reality. It is so often said that one must be perfect to be the best, that one should get lost in what they love... but here is the dark side of those ideals. In a world of Olympics and award-winning dancers, actresses, and artists, there is a very scary danger of going too far. Yes, Nina wants to be perfect. But where does perfect end, and madness begin?

The Fighter

The Fighter (2010)
Directed by David O. Russell. Starring Mark Wahlberg, Christian Bale, Amy Adams, Melissa Leo.

83rd Oscars - 7 Nominations: Best Picture, Directing, Editing, Supporting Actor (Christian Bale), Supporting Actress (Amy Adams), Supporting Actress (Melissa Leo), Writing (Original Screenplay).

The Fighter plays on two consistently good genres: the "based on a true story" biopic and the underdog sports story. It tells the of the life of boxer "Irish" Micky Ward, his family (including his manager mother and crack-addicted trainer brother), and his first big successes in the sport. I found it to be highly entertaining -- indeed, by the end, it was riveting. What makes it work to the degree that it does are the eccentric natures of the supporting characters, the stoicism of the protagonist, and the energy coursing throughout the final boxing matches.

Honestly, I had written off this film in the "I don't do boxing movies" category. I don't like watching this kind of violence on film... I can watch swords and guns ad infinitum, but people punching the crap out of each other gets hard to watch for me very quickly. So, for the same reason that I haven't (and probably won't) see Million Dollar Baby and that I didn't want to see Fight Club (though I have in fact seen it twice), I was prepared to give this one a pass. Still, the looming SEVEN Oscar nominations changed my mind and I decided that I couldn't miss it. In the end, I was sucked into the drama of Micky's boxing matches.

It's rare to see a film where the main character plays a fairly small role. Don't get me wrong, Mark Wahlberg's performance was solid... it just wasn't spectacular. What really stood out to me was Christian Bale (Micky's brother) and Amy Adams (his girlfriend). Many others seem to find Melissa Leo (his mother) impressive as well, and she seems likely to win the Supporting Actress Oscar. I'm not sure that I found her performance to all THAT amazing, or that I would call it the best of the year, but she certainly did command the stage, so to speak, when she was onscreen.

Christian Bale falls into the category of how-the-heck-has-he-never-been-nominated-for-an-Oscar and it seems this is finally HIS year. He's really quite amazing in this role. Physically, he's managed to transform into the skeletal appearance of a truly drug-addicted individual. His face is gaunt, he seems like a gust of wind could blow him over, yet there he is training Micky. What makes him interesting is the way he subtly portrays being haunted by the great boxer he never became. I mean, he seems to mean well in terms of coaching Micky, even his destructive behavior does land him in jail, but you can tell that he would rather be the one in the ring than someone standing on the sidelines. Emotionally, he's a firecracker.  Significantly, he did seem true to the spirit of the real-life Dicky (there's a brief clip of the real Micky and Dicky over the credit scroll).

This film has something interesting to say about success... that behind every "great man" and "great win," there is a team of support, a story, a fleet of family and friends. This is an important message. In our society, I think, we place too much emphasis on individualism. This film makes an important argument against this tendency and it seems clear that Micky's win equally belongs to every other character in the film.

Overall, The Fighter falls into that rare category of truly being both an audience-pleaser and an award-winner. It seems likely that it will win at least two Oscars (for the Supporting Acting categories -- Bale and Leo) -- these actors have already won Golden Globes. It managed to please the critics in that regard. Yet, it also packed the theater I was in even near the end of its run, and kept everyone laughing and cheering until the end. This did not just get a Best Picture nomination because the Academy was trying to appeal to more people under the new 10 Best Picture model -- I bet it would have stood a fair chance at a nomination even if there had still only be 5 slots. This is a film I was not expecting to like, but that I would now heartily recommend.

Winter's Bone

Winter's Bone (2010)
Directed by Debra Granik. Starring Jennifer Lawrence and John Hawkes.

83rd Oscars - 4 nominations: Best Picture, Supporting Actor (John Hawkes), Actress (Jennifer Lawrence), Writing (Adapted Screenplay).

Bleak, above all, is the word that comes to mind in regards to the filmWinter's Bone. Set in the Ozarks, this film might as well be from another time period or another country, as its depiction of such a dirt poor lifestyle is just about as far from my own experience as you can get. Even the coloring of the film is gray and muted, as desolate as the story itself.

Winter's Bone is the tale of a teenage girl, Ree, who must shoulder far more responsibility than she should be required to at her young age of 17. With a mentally ill and completely blank mother, a missing father wanted by the law for methmaking, and two young siblings unable to take care of themselves, Ree is a quiet heroine. Her real journey begins when the Sheriff informs her that her father, Jessup, used their house for bail, and if he doesn't show up to a court date, they will lose their home. Completely singleminded in her quest to set things right and find Jessup, dead or alive, Ree sets off to question her father's fearsome associates.

Never once do you get the sense that Ree wishes her life were any different. She goes about tasks -- whether trying to get a meeting with big boss "Thump" or skinning a squirrel -- with solemn determination. This is a girl who could easily rival the toughness of True Grit's Maddie Ross. For relative newcomer Jennifer Lawrence, nominated for an Oscar, this is not a flashy performance, but it is a solid one. Somehow, her bravery holds the film from diving into misery, wallowing in the poverty, and becoming a hopeless tale of a horrible life.

Also nominated is John Hawkes, who plays Ree's uncle Teardrop. I was certainly more riveted by his performance than by Lawrence's, but that's because his character is hard to figure out. As a man who seems to have given up on the world, he rallies in the face of Ree's need for help. Hawkes' performance was, in my opinion, what brought out the beautiful themes of family and patriarchy, poverty and honor, and self-sufficiency.

As someone interested in entering the film industry some day, I'm always encouraged by female filmmakers -- and Winter's Bone was both written and directed by women. Though there was something hard to watch about this film, there was also a sense of beauty. These women were careful in bringing this story to life. There are numerous shots of Ree tromping through the woods -- off to try one last thing to save her family's home. For every moment where you wonder at the cruelty of this lifestyle, there is an anchoring it in normalcy -- Ree's sister playing with a stuffed animal pony, or her brother scuffling around outside with a skateboard. There is something utterly human at the base of this film, even as it presents unimaginable hardship.

Rabbit Hole

Rabbit Hole (2010)
Directed by John Cameron Mitchell. Starring Nicole Kidman and Aaron Eckhart.

83 Oscars - 1 Nomination: Best Actress (Nicole Kidman)

Rabbit Holeis the harrowing story of a couple dealing with grief  after the death of their young son. Perhaps what is most interesting about this plot is that the child was hit by a car as he chased a dog out into the street. Thus, as tragic as it is, there is no "bad guy" and there is no one, really, to blame. Not even the teenage driver, who plays an important role in the story, is at fault for the accident. Overall, this film is simply about the parent's raw pain at their terrible loss, though this is now growing dull as it's been eight months since their son Danny's death, and about their attempts to move forward with their lives.

What I found most interesting was the way Rabbit Hole depicted grief, loss, tragedy, and death. Becca (Kidman) tries to handle it by moving on, slowly getting rid of what remained of Danny -- finger-paintings on the fridge, kiddie snacks in the cupboard, and clothes in the closet. Meanwhile, Howie (Eckhart) is trying to hold on to the memory of his son, often turning to a simple home video of Danny on his iPhone for comfort. Added to this are the characters in a grief support group (one of whom Howie grows quite close to), and Becca's family, who have their own experiences with loss and life.

Despite how it sounds, this film is not unbearably dark. There are moments of hope and lightness. There is a sense that, though the grief will never go away, as one character says, it will become bearable. There is a light at the end of the tunnel -- or rather, the rabbit hole.

Quite honestly, it's somewhat disappointing to me that both of the leads didn't receive Oscar nominations. Even in a Blockbuster like The Dark Knight, I thought Aaron Eckhart was a formidable actor. Though Nicole Kidman does dominate the picture, I thought Kidman's performance was more of a group effort -- that it was made stronger through contrast to Eckhart and the other actors. That said, hers is an impressive performance. Kidman is in beige and baggy clothes, with frizzy hair and little makeup. In short, she is the opposite of the glamorous actress I often think of her as (it's amazing compare her in this film to her role in Moulin Rouge). This is a bare-bones, raw role. Though I don't think she's really a contender to win in the Best Lead Actress category, I think this nomination is an important recognition of an impressive performance.

This film is based on a play, and looking at Rabbit Hole through the film student's eye, I was aware of these origins. Throughout film history, there is a give and take between movies and theater. Films came out of the great vaudeville entertainment tradition, and at various points in films, performances and stories were quite theatrical -- with frontal address, limited sets, etc. Many films have been adapted from theater. This film, though made more complex in many ways in the transition to  the filmic medium (for example, characters drive around quite a lot), still doesn't seem to have moved too far from the stage. The film style is simple, the music unobtrusive. I don't mean this as a critique -- far from it. I found it to be refreshingly simple; focused on its subject matter, characters, plot and themes above all else. I think this, more than anything else, really played a large role in letting Kidman shine.