Author: Don Malvasi

Cinedork.com writer and film aficionado Don Malvasi had the opportunity to check out a bulk of the films that came in through Philadelphia during the 21st Annual Philadelphia Film Festival. An assortment of indie darlings and Oscar contenders provided some very memorable moments in moviedom. In this column, Don breaks down the 2012 Philadelphia Film Festival, one great scene at a time…

• The haunting long shot at the devastating conclusion of the grim yet uncompromising After Lucia
• The initial sparks-flying dinner scene between Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence in the refreshingly unconventional and uplifting Silver Linings Playbook
• Denis Lavant’s diabolical tizzy opposite Eva Mendes, one of many unforgettable scenes in the iconoclastic, laugh yourself silly, near-indescribable Holy Motors

  

• The riveting heartbreak of a divorced parent seeking a few minutes with his kidnapped child, brought by the other parent to Japan , where dual custody doesn’t even exist, in the documentary, From The Shadows
• the final, “huh?” scene in David Chase’s charming and accurate ode to 1960s kids forming a band modeled after the Stones in the brimming-with-hooks Not Fade Away
• the payoff scene in Sister, where “plot twist” takes on a new meaning.
• the crushing Amy Winehouse duets, replete with her insecure, winsome commentary with Tony Bennett in the otherwise ebullient Zen of Bennett
• FDR (Bill Murray) being carried, due to his polio, into his house by Secret Service agents once the press corps leaves the scene in Hyde Park on the Hudson
• Helen Hunt going through the trash looking for the John Hawkes poem to her she never got to read in the marvelous The Sessions
• The son of the boxer accidentally killed due to blows he received in the ring from boxer Ray “Boom Boom” Mancini, visiting Mancini thirty years later to selflessly make sure Mancini wasn’t feeling too guilty about things, in the touching documentary, The Good Son
• The sheer terror of the first knock on her door by authorities hounding a formerly jailed West German activist (Nina Hoss in one of the year’s best performances) working as a physician in exile in East Germany during the cold war in the pitch-perfect Barbara

  

• The previously cool-as-a cucumber Christopher Walken, losing it while he tells Philip Seymour Hoffman and Catharine Keener to quit fighting in his apartment in The Last Quartet
• Billy Connolly’s shucking and jiving in just about any of his scenes in the fluffy yet charming Quartet
• The final scene in the intriguing Terraferma, which makes the claim that bold social change comes from individual acts often arising from the most unlikely sources
• The incomparable Isabelle Huppert playful yet stone-serious grilling of the knowing monk in the seriocomic In Another Country
• The heartbreaking morality-twisting scene in Lore that brings the certain realization that there were often no good choices amidst the evil of Nazi Germany
• The can-this-be-true? scene of the District Attorney still clinging to her story even after a confessed killer exonerates The Central Park Five in Ken Burns surefire new documentary.
• The first scene we realize An Oversimplification Of Her Beauty isn’t playing around–it’s going to blend fiction, non-fiction and animation and bring them to a rock-solid, effervescent whole.
• Jim Broadbent first realizing it isn’t a hotel he’s checked into but a wacko nursing home in which he’s been trapped’ in the visually ingenious yet often pretentious Cloud Atlas

What was your most memorable scene from the 21st Annual Philadelphia Film Festival?
Let us know in the comments below.

Only now and then does a film come along where 3D technology achieves its maximum potential. There is extraordinary power in the total effect of many scenes in Life of Pi, a dazzlingly constructed adventure tale of a shipwrecked Indian boy and a Bengal tiger cohabitating aboard a lifeboat. Perhaps not since Avatar has the use of stereoscopy approached the level here.

With no star actors and a supporting cast of a flock of flying fish, a nasty hyena, an orangutan, a zebra, a huge whale, and numerous meerkats, Ang Lee’s adaptation of the Yann Martel’s Man Booker prize-winning novel also achieves new highs in its use of color and the until-now often underwhelming motion-capture technology. Just as Lee took the martial arts drama and ripped it a new asshole in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, here he gives Kipling a 21st-century run for his money. Yet his feel for authentic character traits so ably displayed in films like the The Ice Storm and Brokeback Mountain are also evident in Life of Pi.

When the real star of the film is a computer-generated tiger, there ought not be any inkling in the frame that actor Irrfan Khan, as Pi, the Indian boy, was actually alone in the 26-foot lifeboat while filming his scenes. (As such, my apologies for providing a spoiler if you would rather have not known that.) The boy and the tiger’s struggle for territory aboard the lifeboat and an adjacent raft which Pi must resort to for safety, make for a drama of the most basic order. While not remarkable intellectually (the device of the much older Pi narrating the story to a Western writer is largely a cliche) Life of Pi soars on a primordial level. The scope of the film is awe-inspiring: a torrent of unbridled nature in its exorbitant splendor. Not too shabby a storyline enriches the visuals: a vegetarian Hindu boy who also immersed himself in Christian and Muslim traditions battles his father, who despite owning a zoo in Pondicherry, India, impresses upon Pi the notion that animals have no souls. Pi disagrees. He tests the question after he finds himself on the lifeboat with one Robert Parker, moniker for the Bengal tiger who, along with other inhabitants of their zoo, was aboard a sinking freighter with Pi and his family en route to North America.

Lee’s film engages in far less religious navel-gazing than Martel’s novel. Good thing. After weeks at sea and a spell on a magical island, the viewer is presented with a quandary at film’s end. It is less a philosophical brain-teasing twist and more of a matter-of-fact coda to give us even more pause as we consider what we’ve just witnessed. Contemplation gives us plenty of answers without The Answer. Meanwhile, some damn pure cinema just wrapped us up and sent us home.

4 Schools of Fying Fish Attacking A Kid and A Tiger On A Damn Lifeboat (out of 5)

Bradley Cooper uses the phrase “I can’t edit myself” with enough frequency in Silver Linings Playbook to manage to regularly apologize yet still excuse himself as he delivers zinger after zinger. Basically he still harbors the simple notion that if he tells it like it is, remains honest with himself and tries hard enough to stay out of trouble, he’ll be able to return to his old status quo. That includes getting back his estranged wife despite the little matter of a restraining order against him. Just released from a mental hospital where he was diagnosed bipolar, Cooper returns to the presumed comfort and safety of his old homestead. Family (including Robert DeNiro as a bookmaking, obsessive-compulsive Dad) and friends think him crazy to feel such unwarranted optimism since he previously beat up a male work colleague after discovering him showering with his wife. That doggone restraining order again!

Director David O. Russell may have fashioned a romantic comedy of sorts out of two lead characters who suffer from mental illness but his take is anything but light and casual. Silver Linings Playbook’s main attribute is shining a high-powered search light on the moments in a family when tension is all too sure to rear its ugly head. Despite Lawrence’s cheeky charisma and Cooper’s self-deprecating if deliberate self-awareness, the characters are the antithesis of romantic, the opposite of exploitative Credit the savvy direction of Russell and the insightful source material of novelist Matthew Quick but don’t forget to include two of the brightest and most controlled performances of the year. Had Cooper or Lawrence been off the slightest, this whole project would have come tumbling down. They both manage to give their characters the requisite subtlety to present us a tale not just of redemption but of painful truths–those of disturbed personalities, sure, but ones we all can recognize. The added stretch that Cooper’s character in the novel was hospitalized for three years rather than the nine months depicted here serves to not so much undermine the seriousness of dealing with a mental illness but merely to compress it for the sake of a more successful outcome. Fresh on the heels of the Fighter, Russell yet again proves himself one of the best in getting the utmost out of an ensemble cast. DeNiro, who worked with Cooper in the delightful Limitless last year, is a quirky, gruff, yet oddly caring figure here and utterly devoid of any Frockerisms that have plagued his recent performances. Sexiest Man of the Year Cooper goes entirely against type, and Jacki Weaver gives an understated yet vital performance as Cooper’s compassionate mother.

Jennifer Lawrence.

She definitely has “it” in the old Clara Bow sense. Word has it that despite being thought too young for the role, Lawrence was accomodated a Skype audition for this film. Good thing. She apparently blew away Russell and company and now she finds herself the odds on favorite for a Best Actress Oscar. What is completely believable about her performance is that she pulls off both carefree nasty and sneakily compassionate–often in the same moment.

4.5 Old-Fashioned Screwball-Style Comedies With Contemporary Edge (out of 5)

Daniel Day-Lewis leaves tread marks all over actors who previously played Abraham Lincoln. Roll over Raymond Massey–and tell Walter Huston the news.

Hyper calm, self-deprecating, eager to spin pithy tales for every occasion, Day-Lewis’s Lincoln seems distracted by a doting focus on his beloved younger son, Tad. Here Abe deceives like a butterfly, then stings like a bee. Comfortable with being the only guy in either political party who believes a Constitutional Amendment to outlaw slavery can actually pass Congress, he uses his authority like an ace in the hole. He plays it only when absolutely necessary, and then for maximum impact. His placid style drives his advisers, including Secretary of State William Seward (a stirring David Straithairn) to maddening frustration, until cobra-like, he jarringly implores them to take any steps necessary to get the requisite number of votes. Here Lincoln gives the ultimate lesson on practical politics while Day-Lewis gives the ultimate lesson of stepping into an enigmatic role and absolutely owning it. By the way, Steven Spielberg directed and Tony Kushner (Angels in America) wrote the screenplay. Tommy Lee Jones plays Thaddeus Stevens, second fiddle to Lincoln and a more radical abolitionist who must bring himself to compromise for the sake of change that has an actual chance of accomplishment, instead of much less likely to pass reparations. Jones defines intensity. Here he’s a moralistic bull amidst a China shop of halting, reactionary Democrats, who actually pose on the Congressional floor the notion that abolishing slavery might one day lead to, heaven forbid, blacks voting.

Will the go-for-broke seeking of the slavery amendment actually prolong the war? Even Lincoln himself isn’t certain. However, the President’s gnawing suspicion that it’s now or never provides his inner flame. He concludes that waiting will doom any chance of passing the amendment. So Lincoln brings on a trio of arm-twisting, job-promising provocateurs (including James Spader and John Hawkes). Ultimately, Stevens and even Lincoln himself join the lobbyists in hands-on dealing and imploring.

Meanwhile, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, as Lincoln’s older son, Robert, dying to join the war effort, runs up against Lincoln’s wife, Mary Todd Lincoln (a very good Sally Field). She has already lost an 11-year-old son to typhoid fever, and shudders at the prospect of losing another one to the war. This leaves Abe having to smooth out family tensions that are a microcosm of what he faces every day in the public sphere. Lewis and Field share a scene that roils with sparks-flying passion: hers, a fervent, about-to-lose-control yin; his, a centered, compassionate yang.

Ultimately Lincoln eloquently huffs and puffs its way into revealing what an actual democracy looks like. More reminiscent of the Lyndon Johnson administration than any since, Lincoln’s political machinations boldly remind us of how our current dysfunctional, gridlocked legislature is but a mere caricature of the real thing. One whiff of the wheeling and dealings here makes one wonder whether we even remain the same country anymore. Yet through the magic of Day-Lewis and the masterstroke of Spielberg/Cashier’s collaboration, this gem of a film engenders pride in our heritage. It exudes a happy/sad sense of certainty that even though a staggering 600,000 lives were lost in the Civil War, the courageous vision of one incredibly clever, iconoclastic president prevented things from becoming far worse. The film concludes, with conviction, that their lives had not been lost in vain.

5 Instant Classics (out of 5)

The relationship between thieving, conniving 12-year old Simon and his cranky, shiftless older sister Louise forms the core of the sad, stirring Sister, a film from French director Ursula Meier. Shot by the wonderful cinematographer Agnes Godard, Sister evokes the Alpine ski resort that is the setting of Simon’s mischief, with a gritty self-assurance. Kacy Mottet Klein portrays Simon with a maturity far greater than his years–simultaneously evoking a cleverness and a vulnerability fitting for his role as essentially the head of household. Simon manages to keep stealing expensive skis and belongings from the pockets of the wealthy tourists at the top of the mountain, then give much of his newfound loot to his much older yet unemployed sister as they share an apartment bereft of any parents or other siblings in the town below.

Numerous shots, often from the level of Simon’s viewpoint, take place in the internal hallways of the privileged skiers and on the ski lifts bridging the considerable gap between the resort and the working class town below. Yet Sister avoids the polemic of overdramatizing this social incongruity. Steadfast in its closeups of Simon’s every wile and guile, it steps things up even further in its raw yet often tender scenes between Simon and Louise (Lea Seydoux). A tight naturalism purifies the sordid proceedings. When Simon’s naughtiness is first discovered by Mark, a line cook in a restaurant (Martin Compston, the lead in Ken Loach’s excellent Sweet Sixteen) he fears obvious retaliation. Given the audacity of his age and enterprise, however, Simon actually lucks out and takes on the cook as a fence for his stolen goods. Equally compliant are ski resort locker room denizens who willingly buy his stolen equipment. Not that Simon isn’t occasionally too big for his britches. Posing as a member of the elite himself, he befriends an Englishwoman (GIllian Anderson) and her children and while having lunch with them commits the faux paid of insisting to pick up the check. As her suspicions arise, our hearts go out to his needy impulses but worry for his future safety.

Then the film takes a turn which if anyone spoils for you, you should quit speaking to them for a few weeks. Even without the twist, Sister (France’s entrant in the Oscar Best Foreign Film sweepstakes) would be a highly commendable film. Not only in thematic terms given its wayward youth motif, but also in tone, the film certainly conjures up the masterful Dardennes brothers (Kid With A Bike, L’Enfant). The depth of Seydoux’s performance informs Louise’s narcissism with complexity of the occasional, surprising loving care. Yet it is Klein’s bravura turn as Simon that will haunt you. This kid doesn’t play.

4.5 Wild Child’s (out of 5)

A valentine to human potential and an at times staggering testimony to the more tender side of sex, The Sessions breaks ground while breaking your heart.

Starring John Hawkes as a 30-something victim of polio who spends much of his time in an iron lung, this audacious and surprisingly funny film asks us to contemplate Mark O’Brien’s mirthful mission to lose his virginity despite hardly being able to move. Able to lie only on his back in short stretches, Mark explains he has sensations below the waist but his motor skills are completely out of whack. He enlists a compassionate yet professional Sex Surrogate (Helen Hunt in a brave and perfect performance). One of her first spiels to Mark distinguishes the important difference between a surrogate and a prostitute. She’s there to genuinely help him and there will only be six sessions after which, sayonara. The viewer will also observe that like a prostitute, a surrogate will also keep emotional distance. At least of the attachment variety. However, eliciting healthy emotions are very much in play in a surrogate’s harmoniously varied methods, and Mark becomes a richer creature of feeling for his efforts at physical gratification. But not before experiencing some highly touching and often wildly amusing detours along the way.

Hawkes, very good as the meth dealer in Winter’s Bone, and outstanding as the cult leader in Martha Marcy May Marlene, doesn’t even look like himself here. His performance is nothing short of astonishing. Anyone familiar with the disabled will not just appreciate his craft at getting the details just right but will marvel at the amount of wit and verve he throws into his character. It’s practically a cliche these days that anyone playing a downtrodden or especially diseased character gets bonus points at awards time yet I can’t imagine Hawkes being ignored when Oscar nominations roll around. Nor Hunt, who is far more often naked in this film than not, both physically and emotionally. The 49-year-old actress obviously believed in this role enough to take a big risk and it pays off handsomely.

As a society we too often shun the disabled and tap dance around our conversations with them. The Sessions makes us comfortable around Mark and, thus, we begin to care about him. A lot. Based on a true story, the film also explores Mark’s encounters with various healthcare aides and with a savvy priest, who would ordinarily feel like an annoyingly tacked-on character, but is quite plausible here in no small part due to William H. Macy’s playing the priest. Mark regularly consults Macy as he embarks on his unique therapy since he considers himself a good Catholic and wants to know if the sex sessions violate any sex-out-of-wedlock church creeds. Mark earned a degree from The University of California while transporting himself to class on a gurney. The poetry Mark writes is played up in the film and makes us want more. Director/screenwriter Ben Lewin based The Sessions on “On Seeing A Sex Surrogate,” a 1990 Sun magazine article that O’Brien wrote. I know I won’t be the only one searching out “Breathing Lessons: The Life and Work of Mark O’Brien,” a 1996 Academy Award winning documentary.

The Session allows us to get inside Mark’s every insecurity, every desire (however brazen they might seem at first), and, ultimately, every disappointment. It’s a bittersweet life affirmation that wisely keeps in mind the very limitations we are all under, physically fit or otherwise, and the often uncanny methods we apply to overcome them.

4.5 Sex Surrogates Behaving Meaningfully (out of 5)

You can look at Ben Affleck’s Argo in two ways. In taking an actual incident involving the CIA and the 1979 hostage crisis and finessing it into a compelling and suspenseful potboiler, it entertains while informing. On the other hand, Affleck can veer into the type of truth embellishments deemed necessary to keep the proceedings from sinking to a documentary-like dramatic straitjacket. This risks devolving into a different problem when we’re treated with an airport car chase, for instance, that not only didn’t take place in the real life incident, but, above all, doesn’t make much sense as depicted here. Yet in Affleck’s third film as director (Gone Baby Gone, The Town) he displays the savvy skill of a far more veteran filmmaker.

Argo opens with a chilling portrayal of the storming of the American Embassy in Tehran by angry throngs of Iranians after it gives a quick backstory of the overthrow of Iran’s democratically elected regime (an overthrow aided by the United States) and his replacement with the reviled Shah. The embassy scene eerily conjures up modern day current events in Libya. Affleck filmed in Istanbul, impressively using thousands of walk-ons, who were taught Farsi slogans.

Big Ben first appears back in Washington at a CIA meeting to discuss methods to extricate six diplomats who managed to escape the embassy before being captured and then took refuge for several months at the home of the Canadian ambassador. He shoots down a rather absurd idea to have them pose as agriculture experts and ride bikes hundreds of miles to the border, then comes up with an ostensibly even sillier idea: Let’s go in, pretend to be a movie crew scouting locations, then get everybody out on a commercial flight with fake identities. The idea starts to catch on after enlisting the makeup man for Planet of the Apes, John Chambers (a hilarious John Goodman) to make it look like a real movie idea. By the time we get Lester Siegel (Alan Arkin as a crusty Hollywood producer) involved, the idea gets ready to climb the final rung of the ladder up to the Secretary of State (Philip Bakery Hall, dripping with his usual gravitas) and we’re on our way back to Iran. Apparently the fake movie company, which in the film plants fake stories and ads in Variety and stages a surreal read-through of the script by costumed actors, looked real enough it even received a screenplay from Steven Spielberg.

Affleck plays CIA agent Tony Mendez (upon whose memoir the screenplay is based) in about as anti-James Bond a manner as can be. Yet it’s not exactly Everyman Agent here as Affleck replaces Suave Agent with Brash Agent. It’s his way or the highway, he tells reluctant members of the group of six. Perhaps he needs to get this over as soon as possible so he won’t have to look at their bad 70’s haircuts any longer than necessary. In any case, before long we’ve got Ben rebelling against CIA bosses as well, defiantly meaning to bring this mission to a speedy conclusion.

Sporadic criticisms have Argo portraying rebelling Iranians in too harsh and cliched a manner. Yet just how do you portray a militant citizenry and a tyrannical Revolutionary Guard if you don’t show a little militancy and tyranny? Looming over events is the offstage story of the 52 men and women who were held hostage for 444 days. Affleck keeps things apolitical as far as policy yet throws in a little American flag and Jimmy Carter at film’s end for good measure.

Argo should be praised for the no easy feat of getting the look and feel of what it’s like to be embroiled in a gut-wrenching crisis in an overzealous and hostile foreign land. Affleck’s Mendez shows not one ounce of fear; Arkin and Goodman couch an underlying seriousness about the mission in an onslaught of witticisms that free-floatingly relieve the tension of the rest of the film. If the off-kilter hostages depicted here and the fluffy airport chase scene don’t seem to mesh as well with Argo’s driving force, the film quite capably overcomes them. In the pantheon of topical spy flicks, it finally yokes itself to an inner rhythm that confers its own cinematic authenticity….Now about those haircuts–

4 Silly Looking Hostages getting A Quickstudy As Filmmakers (out of 5)

Robust characters facing tricky decisions of not only survival, but greater than life-and-death moral choices, provide an edgy crust to Rian Johnson’s highly entertaining action time travel flick, Looper. Johnson (the delightful Brick, the beguiling The Brothers Bloom) instantly enters the Christopher Nolan-realm of directors with just his third film. Totally in control, he bobs and weaves Looper between sheer visceral thrills and more thoughtful notions as he finally even whips up a loftier than might be expected ending devoid of clumsiness.

It’s 2044, see, and time travel has no sooner been invented than it quickly becomes outlawed. Of course, the no-good criminals of the future get a hold of it and dispense with sending their unlucky victims to the past (roughly our present) for a quick hit job, performed by “Loopers.” One such Looper is Joe (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), who lives high on the hog but is constantly on the edge. Seems our future mobsters don’t like any loose ends so after their Looper hitmen reach a certain age they themselves become the hunted in an effort to “close the loop.” It’s when a Looper is ordered to take out his own future self that things get complicated. Only problem: if that future self is Bruce Willis, closing the loop isn’t going to be easy. Having a whole lot at stake, he’s not exactly cooperative.

Willis isn’t the only wily veteran actor capable of cutting through whatever nonsense is in front of him. Dropped into the present from the future, Jeff Daniels is outstanding as the enforcer who oversees any irregularities in the ordered assassinations. Tough as nails would be too meek a description of this guy. He doesn’t even need the gray and depressing industrial warehouse prop he calls home to establish his nastiness. It’s only when Willis comes on the screen a little later that we realize the bearded and too-calm -to-be-nice Daniels just may just be only the second meanest dude in this movie.

The two Joes finally meet in a diner. No matter they look about as alike as Mitt Romney and Paul Ryan. What follows is a hilarious scene that summarily intends to put to rest any technical difficulties the viewer is having with the film’s arrogant if brilliant conception and ensuing plot plausibility. Given Willis’ force of character, it largely works. Dispensing our concern for a nuts and bolts dissection of the film’s believability is an essential ingredient for getting the most out of Johnson’s gritty fun. Excuse me while I just enjoy the film, thank you. Why analyze time travel when it can be strikingly used a set-up for bigger and better sensations? And what a jaunty ride Levitt and Willis provide. They don’t exactly see eye to eye on a plan of action. My, my how Joe has changed in 30 years! How will these two manifestations of the same guy, as different as oil and water, reconcile things?

Leave it to a very believable single-mom farmer gal with a gun and a young son. Her introduction fails to diffuse the film’s pluck the way a a tacked-on romantic interest could, but actually steps it up a notch. The dramatic dilemma presented by this wood chopping gal played by an excellent Emily Blunt (is it me or has she done at least half-dozen films this year?) rings true as a bell. Seems she may be harboring a future take-over-the-world despot in that very son, who will scare the hell out of you. This refreshingly enriches things, allowing Looper to transcend its very good action movie roots, evolving into a more rarefied plane reserved for films that successfully embrace a certain humanity. Both ticklingly taut and mercifully moving, Looper bridges the gap between the summer’s popcorn movies and the autumn’s more elevated fare. Johnson performs the rare feat of combining the best of both worlds.

4 I-Am-You-and-You-Are-Me-And-We-Are-Both-Bruce-Willis’s (out of 5)

Freddie Quell (an amazing Joaquin Phoenix) gets out of the navy after WWII and he’s all twisted. We meet him humping a doll made out of sand on the beach at Iwa Jima, looking like he’s ready to snap. Discharged, he answers a shrink’s Rorschach blot questions with a string of all-genitalia answers, and makes moonshine-like punches out of liquor plus fun things like dark room chemicals and paint thinner. He not only acts demented but he looks it: stooped over, squinted eyes, a demeanor lifeless and agitated at the same time.

After a job as a department store photographer ends when Freddie attacks a customer (in a scene that captures the moment as only director Paul Thomas Anderson can), he almost kills a co-worker at a farm job with one of his liquid punches and seems doomed. He sneaks onto a docked ship that looks interesting since well-off people are visibly partying. Instead of getting thrown out, he gets introduced to the ship’s “Commander,” one Lancaster Dodd (Philip Seymour Hoffman, never better). If the adage that opposites attract were true, you’d look no further than these two guys. Dodd, a Scientology-like cult leader, is just as much a slick salesman as an insightful theoretician. What does he see in Freddie–a tough as nails target for his “processing,” a technique replete with confrontational, face-to-face grilling meant to cleanse the subject of harmful past memories? Or is there a man-to-man bond illuminated by the catalyst of Freddie’s potion, which Dodd devours as enthusiastically as he does devotees of his “The Cause.” One of his enthusiastic followers, played by Laura Dern, gets quickly disenchanted when Dodd changes the target of his therapeutic purging from “memories” to “dreams” (so much for reality-based). He briefly loses his temper with her but nowhere near as seriously as Freddie repeatedly loses his in attempting to “Quell” any naysayers with hotheaded fisticuffs. Sceptics abound since The Cause entails past life regression, grueling techniques that mine psychotherapy and improvisational theater, and little scientific reason.

Hoffman, confident and omniscient in his processing exercises, pulls a fast one now and then as he belts out corny songs in the middle of scenes when you least expect it. It’s like Bjork in Dancer In The Dark, but unlike that film, this one makes perfect sense. In fact, the first half of The Master is as good as any film you will see this year. What we have in the second half is part increasingly subtle dual character study, and part a slowed down, not fully realized hollowness that doesn’t always seem to take hold. Suffice it to say The Master finally provokes a response to take a closer look beneath its surface, to check again, hone out a new angle that might have been missed. The film comes to end in a proverbial whimper after having banged us out of our senses for a stretch. No complaints here. Anderson does Atmosphere like he invented it. Long after the ironic period songs of Jo Stafford, Helen Forrest and Ella Fitzgerald subside, his Freddie and Lancaster are two characters who will long stay etched in the memory– two powder kegs refusing to defuse, ultimately impervious to change.

4 Delusions of Grandeur and Debauchery (out of 5)

Clint Eastwood, ridiculed in real-life performance-art politics, turns in an ironically seasoned and mature performance as an old coot baseball scout in Trouble With The Curve. The possibly very real dotiness the empty chair worshipper recently displayed in Florida, is only make believe here. He faces bigger battles with macular degeneration and a resentful daughter (Amy Adams) who against her better judgment comes to his aid while he’s on an important scouting assignment. Eastwood, 81, takes the scurrilous malcontent character he played in Gran Torino to another level. Often dangerously close to cartoonish, he does a commendable jog of reigning it in. Corniness and cloying script turns rely on a solid chemistry between Eastwood and Adams to close the game. Ultimately a winner, the movie plays better if you leave your common sense in the lobby.

WIsely released a few weeks before, but not during, the Major League Playoffs, Trouble With The Curve (directed by first-time director Robert Lorenz) should harbor no illusions regarding the identity of its director. No one should mistake it for Mystic River or Million Dollar Baby. Yet it’s a bona fide treat to watch the always underrated actor Eastwood. His scenes with Adams, who’s a delight here, resound with authenticity and keep the entertainment quotient high. She plays a lawyer who despite an imminent big case that could very well decide her being made a partner, decides to surprise her dad, while he’s on an equally important mission that could decide his own job fate. Turns out she knows a lot of baseball, which despite her dad keeping his distance as she grew up, seeped into her consciousness. Justin Timberlake plays a cocky scout who’s along to provide a romantic interest. Despite his charisma to burn, the cheesiness of his scenes with Adams serve to highlight the comparative quality of her scenes with Eastwood.

The baseball stuff here tries big stretches of our patience, yet also is not without a certain winsomeness. The reliable John Goodman is Eastwood’s director of scouting and friend and protector. They both fight what seems a losing battle with the technological changes in scouting, represented by a new breed of scout who would rather digest stats online than attend games. Painted in large strokes just short of paint-by-number, the film adds a laugh or a dramatic insight soon enough to cure our indigestion. When cliches sting like gopher balls, good old fashioned charm throws a welcome changeup. If the film just misses the playoffs, it’s not due to its Hollywood ending but its sometimes painful play by play.

3 Wizened Old-Time Ballpark Mafiosos (out of 5)