Author: Don Malvasi

Writer-director Alex Ross Perry is no stranger to controversy. When his prior film, The Color Wheel, dropped a particularly vile plot bomb at its climax, it seemed like a crude tack-on from another movie. In Listen Up Philip, Perry launches a much slower-igniting agitation but one equally demoralizing. Jason Schartzman plays Philip Lewis Friedman, a novelist of some repute, who takes himself seriously. At the start of the film he looks up old girlfriends and former college chums and, after barely saying hello, flays them mercilessly for all their shortcomings, especially any underestimation of him.
His publisher and his live-in girlfriend, Ashley (an excellent Elizabeth Moss), get even worse treatment. Philip has little patience for the feelings of others when he’s having such a smug good time pontificating his pitiful, albeit occasionally witty, chin-wag.

If he respects anyone at all, it’s the older, esteemed novelist Ike Zimmerman, who has taken an interest in mentoring the young turk. When Philip basically just suddenly leaves his New York apartment to take residence upstate with Zimmerman (Jonathan Pryce), his matter of fact announcement startles Ashley. Moss’s character, simple on the surface yet ultimately complex, adds the missing emotional punch to the film as she tries to deal with her mess.

Philip eventually takes on a college teaching job where Zimmerman once taught. To no one’s surprise, he’s a reclusive professor who refuses to even engage in conversation with his students unless it takes place in class or during office hours. Pryce is as good an actor as there is but Zimmerman feels more like a sketch of an old jaded novelist than an old jaded novelist. Suggestions he is a barely disguised model of Philip Roth also don’t add up to much, unless you think it’s a good idea to portray Roth onscreen by first stripping everything Jewish from his character. Zimmerman’s adult daughter sometimes shows up at the house he and Philip share to remind us from yet another angle how much of a misanthrope Philip is. Oh, and, the mighty baritone of no less than Eric Bogosian narrates these proceedings, recalling Rod Serling. But the narration is as void of interest as is the face of Philip, which Perry relishes giving is in frequent close-ups. The 16mm film stock no more than puts a creative ribbon on a disappointing package.

After telling his publisher he’s not interested in doing a book tour or otherwise promoting his novel, Philip recognizes a female publishing assistant who seems interested in him. He insist they’ve met before. She doesn’t recall. Naturally where this is heading is Philip only cares about giving her shit for refusing his advances when he was an unknown neophyte. Now that she pays him attention, he doesn’t want it because it’s tarnished by her not having recognized his charm and genius beforehand.

And on and on…..Perry’s trick this time is to put forth a totally unlikeable character and then challenge his viewers to accept Philip, whether or not a sliver of redemption can be found. The view from here is it’s not a matter of choice between praising or burying Philip, but of finally being bored to death by him.

The Most Miserable Writer You’ll Ever Meet (and those who fall in his wake)….2.5 (out of 5) stars

Listen Up Philip is currently playing at the Roxy Theater

Chadron, Nebraska has a solo traffic light which is the only one in three counties. The nearest mall is two hours away. It couldn’t be much further away from Lincoln and Omaha. Its population of 5600 are the quirky types you’d expect in an isolated prairie town. Dave Janetta’s Love and Terror on the Howling Plains of Nowhere is a stirring documentary every bit as much about this small town’s challenges as it is about the strange 2006 death of a math professor from the local college.

Based on the recently published memoir by Chadron resident and novelist Poe Ballantine (who also co-produced the film), Love and Terror… outlines the mysterious circumstances surrounding the death of Steven Haataja, whose body was found in a remote area months after he disappeared. The body was burned and tied to a tree with electrical cords. Although no suspects are presented, the theory he couldn’t possibly have tied himself is a permeating one throughout the film. Along the way we get to know the witty, self-deprecating Ballantine, like Haataja, a relative newcomer to Charron who came to the town with a background of suicidal depression issues.

What may at first come off as a film with barely enough story for a feature, works its way into achieving the capturing of a portrait of a unique town. Its characters, both weird yet somehow grounded, come to find Haataja’s uncertain death simultaneously their unifier and their catalyst for divisiveness.

3.5 (out of 5) stars

A haiku:

Sadomasochism,
Two women love butterflies:
All too civilized.

Go no further than The Guest to satisfy your Halloween movie urge. Conjuring up memories of 1980s tongue-in-cheek, winking and slashing classics, The Guest boasts a smart, fascinating Dan Stevens (Downton Abbey) as a returning soldier who makes an unexpected house call to the parents of a comrade who died in action. The picture of polite, David Collins (Stevens) seems to add “yes ma’am” and “sir” to every conversation he has with Laura and Spencer Peterson, and before you can say “who is this guy?” David finds himself invited to stay over a a a houseguest. Teenage daughter Anna (Maika Monroe, who also stars in the forthcoming It Follows) seems to pick up unsavory vibes from David that her parents miss. Stevens is so good, a mere twitch or flick of the eyebrow instantly punctures his persona before he just as quickly returns to his unctuous, uber affable mask.

Fun scenes abound. When Anna’s brother Luke (Brendan Meyer) has some trouble with school bullies, David, who by this time has the job of picking him up after school, detours instead to a roadhouse bar that serves minors if they’re on the football team. After buying the obnoxious kids a round of drinks, David gives new meaning new to chalking up a pocket billiard cue-stick. When he tags along with Anna to a party, he also helps out when her girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend shows up uninvited and begins acting unsociable.

Always reverting right back to Mr. Polite after each swift act of violence, David is, of course, just getting warmed up. Monroe is especially effective as the one person in the household who has an idea things aren’t so peachy keen, yet her knowledge adds to her anxiety, as does her obvious attraction to Dan. Scenes between Stevens and Monroe are very well played. The shenanigans steadily straddle a sense of humor. Director Adam Wingard and screenwriter Simon Barrett know their stuff and have admiringly watched a whole lot of John Carpenter. Yet it is hard to imagine this film working as well as it does with someone besides Stevens in the lead. When he asks a friend of Luke’s to get him a gun, Dan is introduced to a woozy older guy with an arsenal of various weapons in the back of his truck. When Dan matter-of-factor says, “I’ll take them all,” we don’t doubt the scene one bit.

As The Guest escalates into overdrive, genre conventions are often duplicated but never burdensomely. Right down to the haunted house maze climax and the oh-not-this-again final scene, it’s hard not to root for The Guest when you’re having this much fun.

Bad-Ass and Blithe B-Movie Heaven…..4 (out of 5) stars

Lou Bloom is a sick pup. That he has no clue of his particularly eerie insularity makes him all the more entertaining. And scary. In a performance which is particularly outstanding, Jake Gyllenhaal gives us a Lou who is bent on making it in the big world out there–in this case, Los Angeles, and specifically, a Los Angeles of horrific high crime and ruthless television news departments eager to capitalize on the pain of innocent victims.

Lou, who lives alone and seems to have not one friend, stumbles upon a vocation whose nature matches his own intensity: that of the “Nightcrawler,” or photojournalistic chaser of the sensational and the prurient. Violent crimes against those who live in good neighborhoods are his prime target. Armed with a cheap camcorder, Lou goes up against an established photographer (here portrayed by Bill Paxton with his usual aplomb). Eager to drive at breakneck speeds, and possessing not one ethical qualm, Lou carves a place for himself. He worms his way into the good graces of ratings-hungry local television news director Nina (Rene Russo). For a guy who seems every bit the recluse, Lou shows a remarkable ability to schmooze and manipulate people of all stations. He’s equally comfortable working his way into the inner circles of Nina’s TV newsroom as he is commandeering his shaky sidekick (Riz Ahmed), who’s one moment hired as an “intern,” and seemingly the next appointed to “Executive Vice President” of Lou’s self-described “successful TV news business.”

Nightcrawler would qualify as solid satire on media ruthlessness and lone wolf eccentricity, were it not such a chilling depiction of the real possibilities of what could go wrong when a hyper-determined nut job is unleashed amidst an increasingly unscrupulous industry. Bent on the vanities spurred by the almighty dollar and job security that dwarf decency and common sense, the media types portrayed here could easily have gone off the rails into melodrama. What anchors things nicely, though, is the thoroughly believable power contained in Lou’s drive and his unabashed, always-somewhat-below-the-surface sociopathy. Both a lovable con man and a self-deluded maniac, Lou goes for broke. Director Dan Gilroy (co-screenwriter of The Bourne Legacy) has made a film that is both a real kick, and one that teeters on the edge of many of our worst fears. Nightcrawler delivers a disquieting dagger.

The Rare Intelligent Entertainment–With A Jake Gyllenhaal Master Performance…4 (out of 5) stars

Jean-Luc Godard on several occasions in his new film, Goodbye to Languge 3-D, places two images atop each other. Close one eye, you’ll see one image; close the other, a different image. Do neither and you’ll get a headache. Small price to pay for the experience of indulging the French master and allowing him to slag the 3-D format. Stay with this movie for its full 77-minute length and you’ll experience Godard also ridiculing, as he has been prone to do in recent years, film conventions of all sorts, including the narrative form itself. “In the realm of the murky” (a line from the film) sums up this ambitious assault on expectations or perhaps, “it’s hard to put flatness onto depth” (another line).

“Characters” include a cool dog, who’s snout often protrudes, both knowingly and cluelessly, out onto the front of the 3-D screen and who may be in more of the scenes than any of the people characters. These primarily include a nubile, artsy female in various states of undress, and a grim, somewhat older man. They argue things like whether the most notable inventions of all time were “zero and infinity” (him) or “sex and death” (her). Then Godard drops them like a hot potato for a cut to something totally incongruous with their discussion.

Some of the imagery is downright exhilarating, but usually only for a few seconds. Godard, now 83, plays with focus, with color, with a diverse soundtrack, with quotes from the arts and literature, but mostly, he plays with our heads. “For those lacking in imagination take refuge in reality” the film boasts. Those who say don’t know, and those who know don’t say, I counter.

Another personal film from Godard…2.5 (out of 5 stars)

Goodbye To Language screens on Saturday, October 25 at 1:15 pm at The Prince Theater.

Long takes consisting of swooning, uniquely-angled camera shots are set to the riveting backdrop of a hypnotically spare solo jazz drum. Weaving Antonio Sanchez’s dazzling minimalist score around the action and as an ironic comment on it, director Alejandro Gonzalez Inarittu has created a movie that essentially plays as much like a brilliant piece of music as it does an invigorating film. Inarittu (Amores Perros, Babel, 21 Grams) has made an unconventionally wild film that grabs the viewer’s coattails, then proceeds to shake him until he has smoke coming out of his ears.

Witness Birdman, a one-of-a-kind high drama of the world of theatrical artists that, both structurally and narratively, drops in on a few actors as they rehearse an adaptation of Raymond Carver’s What We Talk About When We Talk About Love. Here’s Riggan Thomson (Michael Keaton), a former star of the Superhero movie genre, who struggles with his current state as a has-been. There’s egomaniacal Mike Shiner (Edward Norton) , a renowned leading man of the stage, who’s been called on to co-star with Riggan in the play. Riggan also wrote and directs the play-within-a-movie and these two don’t get along, nor even respect each other, very much, yet coexist since Mike is basically aboard as the troubled production’s rescuer. And here’s Sam (Emma Stone), Riggan’s daughter, just out of rehab, who locks gazes with and looks down on Mike from the get go.

Together with Lesley (Naomi Watts), who also acts in the play and was a former co-star, lover, and then nemesis of Mike’s; and a ruthless producer/lawyer (Zach Galifianakis) ) who sees to it that the slippery show must go on, the principals of Birdman set forth on a crazy stew of creativity and creative stumbling blocks, on a rip-roaring tale of redemption and failure. With Keaton himself a former superhero leading man who’s star hasn’t shown as brightly in recent years, the film also tantalizes with an unnerving blend of fiction and a perhaps-reality.

When Riggan’s ex-wife Sylvia, (Amy Ryan), both loving and piercingly critical, visits him backstage, an extra layer of background on Riggan’s past comes forth. From early scenes with his daughter we’ve already got an idea that he fell on some hard times personally as well as professionally. And, hey, this guy must be struggling since he’s regularly having an ongoing dialogue with the inner voice of Birdman himself, Riggan’s alter ego in his former life.

With just the right amount of playful fantasy, Riggan alternatively turns his back on, confronts, and transcends his Birdman ghosts. Inarritu takes us on a thrilling ride along the inner workings of the making of a Broadway play. Included in the vivid realism are a compelling set of scenes with a fictional NY Times theater critic Tabitha (Lindsay Duncan), that allows Riggan to express what may be nearly every actor’s dream: an actual chance to lash out to a prominent critic. His no-holds-barred dressing down of Tabitha is one of many of Birdman’s memorable scenes, including the are-they-real-or-are-they-not scenes of magical realism involving Riggan that punctuate the heavy goings-on.

The ensemble actors, children of a most insightful and ambitious casting, work together seamlessly. Keaton, Norton, and Emma Stone all provide probably their best film work yet. Inarritu, long a director with much creative sizzle and even more potential, has put down a nastily good mindblower of a movie–exhilarating every inch of the way, and ripe for retrospection. Warning: returning to “regular” movies after Birdman could very well produce a bit of cinematic PTSD.

The Exhilaratingly Unconventional Best Film of the Year So Far…..5 (out of 5) stars

Channeling both Lee Marvin and Nurse Ratched, J. K. Simmons plays Terence Fletcher, absolutely nailing one of those rare movie performances that manages to go over the top without a trace of insincerity. He’s, of all things, the music instructor from hell–his veins popping out when he’s going off. His idea of teaching includes relentless, acerbic insults; tirades of political incorrectness of every stripe imaginable, and, occasional physical abuse. He’s a real fun guy.

His students are constantly on guard, virtually holding their breath for his next salvo. When conducting, Fletcher waves off an unacceptable musical passage with a routine clenched fist rather than the customary wave of most conductors. Enter Andrew Neiman (Miles Teller) into this maelstrom. Andrew will become Fletcher’s prize pupil, which is to say his prime target. Teller, who’s been very good before (The Spectacular Now) plausibly portrays a low-key, determined-to-succeed good soldier, who’s pushed so far his drumming hands eventually bleed. This lends dramatic heft to later happenings in the film when, predictably, Andrew finally reacts.

Whiplash’s story arc, never on solid ground to begin with, will climb higher and higher up the ladder of the hamfisted and the implausible before it’s done pounding home the virtue of persistence. Even more blood will flow. Still more hard-to-swallow scenarios will come into play to test Andrew’s mettle. Throughout, there’s plenty of music, some of it quite good (Teller played many of the drum passages himself) and, as if to proclaim its authenticity, multiple references to Charlie Parker and Buddy Rich. To get an idea where 29-year-old director Damien Chazelle got inspiration for Fletcher, check out one of the many rants Rich barked at his band members (readily available online).

Yet the film keeps coming back to Simmons. It’s his movie to win or lose, and it’s such a commanding performance that Whiplash’s many blemishes are to a decent extent made over with the cosmetics of an Oscar worthy performance. Any messages in Whiplash, however, remain blurred by plot facilitating devices that annoyed this observer’s sensibilities far more than they anoint Chazelle as the next big thing.

J.K Simmons Soars, Whiplash Floats…3.5 (out of 5) stars

In the haunting Two Days, One Night, directors Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne add a profound level of morality drama to their customarily brilliant trove of social reality themes explored since their outstanding first film, Le Promesse (1997). What is unique this time is they are working with an actress who is emerging as one of the very finest in film. Marion Cotillard’s versatility and skills are bringing her to a whole new level. Here she plays Sandra, a woman who has just been voted out of her job by 16 co-workers who, in a Hobson’s choice, collectively choose a cash bonus for themselves over concern for her continued employment.

Taking a simple story in terms of plot and plumbing its depths for signs of both human vanity and sacrifice, the Dardennes demonstrate a surgical skill in extracting every nuance of feeling from scenes of confrontation. Their films are always primarily character studies but here the stakes seem raised. Basic working people make the most meaningful impact with what seem on the surface as mere ordinary decisions. Sandra, reluctantly, and with heartbreaking fragility, is convinced by both a co-worker and her husband to find and visit each co-worker who voted against her. She must convince those who voted “no” to change their minds for a re-vote taking place in a mere two days. What may seem like a shallow Ayn Rand-esque virtue-of-selfishness mode of thinking takes on a level of complexity as some of Sandra’s co-workers express their own financial needs in refusing to give up their money.

Expressing a spare, savvy naturalism, Two Days, One Night seems steeped in a higher order of art–one concerned primarily with how people treat each other. Sandra’s plight seems bent on destroying her mental and emotional wellbeing yet no matter how stressed she becomes, she somehow moves on from one co-worker to the next, sufficiently composed. Attempting no grandstanding flourishes of persuasive oratory, nor any psychological angles, she offers matter-of-fact, in-your-face directness. As Sandra comes to make realizations about not only her co-workers, but also about herself, the film’s larger meanings and questions unfold. Playing a character as distressed but as equally determined as the memorable Bruno in the Dardennes’ film, L’enfant (2006), Cotillard surpasses her previous roles, including the Oscar-winning La Vie en Rose. She and her directors have constructed an insightful, wise film with great heart and a timeless subject: the struggle of man’s inhumanity to man versus an alternative sense of compassion and community.

Belgium’s Choice For Oscars’s Best Foreign Film Is A Stunner…..4.5 (out of 5) stars

The intermittently uplifting yet often pretentious The Last Five Years contains hardly any dialogue that is not sung. Pleasantly containing several songs of depth and wit, the film struggles with the thinnest of story lines and its pleased-with-itself structure. Anna Kendrick, who is very good, presents her character, Cathy’s story backwards from the end, while Jeremy Jordan, only fair as Jamie, goes along in a standard front to back arc. (They meet in the middle for their wedding, the film’s only actual duet. The chronological device is more cute than terribly effective and as good as some of the songs are, they fail to overcome the natural obstacle of converting a basically two-person theater construction into a breathing film. Still, it’s fun to watch Kendrick get silly in “A Summer in Ohio,” a tune that sends up her plight as a struggling actress forced to do summer stock. Although Jordan is much less convincing as a hotshot novelist, Valentine’s Day filmgoers could do a lot worse than this. Slated to open then, the popular off-Broadway production by composer-lyricist Jason Robert Brown should both get a wider audience and significantly boost the rising career of Kendrick, who has been gradually rising up to star status.

(3.5 out of 5 stars).