Performance of the Month: Michael Shannon in "Take Shelter" (2011)

Michael Shannon gives a criminally neglected performance in the frightening, yet moving "Take Shelter"

Having taken a hiatus from writing for the month of February, what with preparing for the annual Oscar bloodbath and the details of daily life, I've been compelled to post again after watching a little movie called "Take Shelter" last night.

I'd heard of it, in passing, during award season and in the litter of films released last year that featured Jessica Chastain, but it wasn't until the Independent Spirit Awards last weekend that I really became aware of how intriguing the film looked.  And, in fact, while watching the Indie Spirits, every time they showed a clip from "Take Shelter", I found myself saying "I have got to see that movie!"

Written and directed by Jeff Nichols, whom I'd honestly never heard of until now, I don't want to spoil any of the twists of the plot by merely rehashing the details of the story.  Instead, I want to focus on what was one of the truly great film performances given last year (one that, naturally, earned no Academy love), by Michael Shannon as a man named Curtis.  Curtis works in some type of construction or drilling job; I don't know specifically which it was, but it isn't really important.  He's a hard worker, devoted to his wife Samantha (Chastain), and their young hearing-impaired daughter.

Now, Michael Shannon just naturally has an intense look, which would make the most mild-mannered character he plays seem suspect, and he was very memorable as the disturbed neighbor in 2008's "Revolutionary Road" (for which he did earn a Supporting Actor nomination).  But Curtis appears to just barely have a lid on things as the film opens.  We know that these waters may be still for the moment, but they are very deep indeed.  For one thing, Curtis has nightmares.  He dreams of storms: violent, malevolent, disastrous storms.  He also appears to hallucinate being attacked by his own dog, his co-worker, and his wife.  Curtis, being an intelligent man, and knowing that some unpleasant issues are possibly embedded in his DNA, tries to deal with the problem by seeking medical help.  But the help is too little, and his obsession with refinishing an old storm shelter on his property becomes paramount in his mind.

There are so many words one could use to describe Michael Shannon's performance in this film: compelling, frightening, unnerving, and brilliant.  His scenes with Chastain and the young girl who plays their daughter show the unease that exists in the family unit already, a chasm that will grow as Curtis' nightmares and visions continue to get worse.  But as Shannon plays it, in Curtis' mind, he is doing all he can to protect and save his family from what he is sure is coming.  The other family members, friends, and neighbors, who all just assume he's losing his mind bring out a side of Shannon's acting that seems to indicate that he just might believe them himself, if he weren't so sure of his purpose.  A thrilling, dynamic scene at a community fish fry takes on the tone of a tent revival preacher, and this, my friends, is the true key to the success of Shannon's performance and of the movie itself.

I won't reveal any more of the film, which ended perfectly; really, the only way it could have ended, because all I keep thinking about is that intensely sad look of resignation in Curtis' eyes as he accepts his fate.  I can't think of any actor who could've walked the tightrope over the gaping chasm of insanity the way Michael Shannon does in this movie.  More's the pity that he didn't get the recognition he deserved in a year when the supposed 'Best Actor' did little more than arch his eyebrows or mug for the camera for an hour and a half.

Performance of the Month: Ewan McGregor in “Beginners” (2011)

Ewan McGregor (and Cosmo) in a scene from "Beginners" (2011)

From everything I’ve heard and read about the Mike Mills film “Beginners”, I was only familiar with the portion of the film that deals with Christopher Plummer’s character, Hal, an elderly gentleman who comes out of the close after the death of his wife of 40-something years.  As Hal, Christopher Plummer has been picking up awards hand over fist (no pun intended) and is a front runner to win the Oscar as well.  I mean to take nothing away from Plummer, a veteran actor who’s been appearing in films for about half a century (you might remember him as the stiff-backed Baron Von Trapp in “The Sound of Music”), or his performance here, which I consider more an interesting one  than a great one.  Having said that, I feel that the exceptional work by Ewan McGregor in the lead role of Hal’s son Oliver has been grossly overlooked by the entities and groups that award film excellence.

In as much as the film is about Hal finding and embracing his true nature late in life, the meat of the story (again, no pun intended) concerns Oliver and his beginnings to form a loving relationship of his own.  We are introduced to Oliver as he is dealing with Hal’s recent death, and the fact that he does not have a significant other in his life, except for his late father’s dog Arthur (played charmingly by a dog named Cosmo, who actually has subtitled dialogue representing his thoughts in the film).  Yes, I know it sounds weird, but it works here.

Oliver is clearly depressed; it shows in his dialogue, his actions, his work, everywhere.  Some friends make an effort to take him to a party, but his attachment to Arthur is so strong he must take the dog with him.  Here, he meets a pretty young actress named Anna (Melanie Laurent, who was so memorable in Tarantino’s “Inglourious Basterds” a few years back) who has laryngitis and can only communicate at the party by writing on a notepad.  In a romantic comedy, this would be a wonderful ‘meet-cute’ device, but in this drama, it is an intriguing introduction for a character that we meet in stages.  Like Oliver, we can appreciate Anna’s beauty (Laurent is indeed a beautiful actress), her smarts and quick wit.  Only later, when she is in full voice, can the audience (and Oliver) truly come to appreciate the whole picture of the character.

McGregor, who positively glowed with energy and life in 2002’s “Moulin Rouge” sinks down inside the clothes and skin of his character here, holding on to the frayed connection with his deceased parents as evidenced by the boxes of their belongings still in his house, and his bonding with Arthur.  Flashing back to the period when Hal came out, Oliver is not really surprised by his father’s announcement, but is taken aback with the excitement and abandon that the older man relishes his newfound freedom as a gay man.  Oliver stands in the background much of the time, watching as Hal makes a new circle of friends, becomes politically and socially active, and gets a significantly younger boyfriend (Goran Visnjic as Andy; the case of a good, usually intense actor playing what is essentially a throwaway role).

So, see “Beginners” and admire the work of Plummer, but be really impressed by the work of McGregor.  And Cosmo, the dog.

The Trouble with Meryl: "The Iron Lady" (2011)

I think that perhaps critics (and audiences as well) hold Meryl Streep to a higher standard than we do other actresses.  When a performer has consistently been at the top of their game for as long as she has (well over 30 years now), we seem to demand more and at the same time be more prone to nit-picking about flaws in a performance that we might rave over if it were offered by a lesser talent.  And there's no denying Streep's talent, as she's just earned her 17th career Oscar nomination for her performance in this film, more than any other actor has ever done.  Even the divine Katharine Hepburn stalled at 12, but unlike double winner Streep, Hepburn managed to win 4 golden Oscar statues during the course of her career.  Some people on message boards harp that Streep is "overdue" for her 3rd Oscar.  To them, I'd ask "Why?".

As Margaret Thatcher in "The Iron Lady", Streep delivers the kind of technically perfect performance that by now she can probably do in her sleep.  It is a brilliant piece of work, yes, but is there something in it human, of flesh and blood, that an audience can really connect with?  Why do some of her more praised performances seem as if they were presented by an 'acting machine' as opposed to a person?  Can it be that we've overdosed on her supreme mastery of accents and dialects?  Are we so used to brilliance in Streep's work that we look for fault?  And why, oh why, can't she get a great role in a film that matches her talent?

I should point out that, as a fan of acting, I am in awe of Meryl Streep's gifts.  However, a great number of her film roles have left me cold and untouched.  Her most universally honored portrayal, in 1982's "Sophie's Choice" is one that I've always found too studied and careful, and yet "A Cry in the Dark" from 1988 is just as meticulously crafted and I consider it the greatest thing she's ever done on film.  Rarer still is the "loose" performance as in 1983's "Silkwood", which I think is underrated in the way it flows and seems organic as opposed to the textbook 'capital-A' acting that she does in 'Sophie' and 'Dark'.  Her brittle comic performance in "The Devil Wears Prada" from 2006 is another example of a great bit of work that doesn't seem overdone, but totally appropriate to the film.  Compare that with her work in 2008's "Doubt", where she was all rigid, controlled righteous anger spilled out in a Boston-ish accent, that threatened to overpower the basic simplicity of the story.

The woman can do anything on film, but the success of her performance ultimately has a lot to do with the film she's in.  Unfortunately, "The Iron Lady" does not hold up to the caliber of Streep's work in it.  As the elderly, failling into dementia Margaret Thatcher, she is amazing.  The paralyzing loss of clarity and yo-yo'ing between the past and present is a great challenge for an actor, and she more than meets it.  There's a real human performance there, and it is as impressive as anything I've seen her do.  But- and this is a big but, in the flashback sections of the film, her work seems mechanical; more of an impersonation than a creation of acting.    In fact, these large sections of the film take away some of the wonder that she portrays in the present day sequences.  Showering her with nominations and awards for this performance seems like honoring her career and her talent rather than for the particular role she's playing.  And perhaps that's always a danger when portraying a public figure such as Thatcher, that possibility that it's going to seem more of an imitation or impression than an actual performance.

The movie is ok, Streep is better, but she's been much, much better in other things.  And that's no reason to believe that anyone is overdue for a 3rd anything, especially an Oscar.

 

Laughing at Cancer: “50/50” (2011)

Joseph Gordon-Levitt has been impressive before, in films such as “Mysterious Skin” and “500 Days of Summer”, and yet I felt he was very bland as the cancer-stricken young man at the center of “50/50”.  Perhaps that blandness made him easier for the audience to identify with, but I wanted there to be more of a core to the character than just the wide brushstrokes laid out by the screenwriter.

He plays 27 year old Adam, an earnest well-meaning young man who works for Public Radio in northern California.  Adam exercise, recycles, doesn’t smoke or drink, puts up with insufferable girlfriend Rachael, exasperating best friend Kyle, his controlling mother, and if all that isn’t enough, ends up diagnosed with a malignancy on his spine.

The film follows Adam’s life as the disease progresses, and how it affects all the relationships in his life.  Rachael , played by Bryce Dallas Howard (giving her second bad performance of last year, following her work as the nadir of the ensemble of “The Help”), pledges her support to Adam, even as she is cheating on him behind his back.  

Kyle, played with gleeful raunchiness by Seth Rogen, is Adam’s co-worker and best friend, whose idea of support seems to be using Adam’s diagnosis as a way for the pair to hook up with girls.  Kyle has his own issues, and watching him grow as a truly supportive friend, helping his buddy through the roughest bouts of the illness is a pleasure, and gives Rogen an opportunity to do more than just spout off-color jokes or dirty dialogue.  The film takes the time to develop how a terminal illness affects the people around the patient as well as the patient himself, and it is this branching out of the screenplay that adds much to the piece as a whole.

 Anjelica Huston plays Diane, Adam’s mother, in only a few scenes, but makes a good impression as the controlling mother who must deal with something in her son’s life that she cannot control.  In addition to Adam’s illness, she is also caring for her husband who’s battling Alzheimer’s Disease, and Diane’s stressed, brittle nature suits the situation that particular character is dealing with.  Not so with the performance of Gordon-Levitt; although he portrays the shocked, numbing aspect of dealing with illness well, his later on explosion of anger and fear doesn’t come off well.  It just looks like bad acting, something that I don’t usually associate with this performer.  Veteran character actor Phillip Baker Hall also provides some weight and texture to the film as a fellow chemo patient who introduces Adam to the pleasure of medicinal marijuana.

The strongest performance in the film for me was that of Anna Kendrick as Katherine, the in-training therapist who is still feeling her way into uncomfortable territory (Adam is only her third patient), and the friendship that develops between the two seems completely natural and unforced.  Kendrick is a gifted actress, who truly deserved her 2009 Oscar nomination for “Up in the Air”, and I would probably have nominated her again for her performance here.

There are some strengths to “50/50”, among them the several of the performances and especially the screenplay, which doesn’t drift off into familiar “sickness” movie clichés, but rather explores the situation with a mixture of sensitivity and bawdy humor that strikes a pretty successful tone.  And the truth is that despite the serious subject matter, there is a lot of humor in this film.  For whatever reason though, that central performance just felt “off” to me, and left the film feeling overall a bit emptier than it should’ve been.

Some thoughts on “The Tree of Life” (2011)

I can appreciate a piece of art, even if it’s not to my particular taste.  And sometimes, it’s clear when an artist’s aims or goals were simply beyond his ability.  Do we fault the artist for having a reach that far exceeds their grasp?  For having the desire to express some great universal truth, and yet not having the capability of bringing his vision to bear?  Where is the line drawn where we can acknowledge something as a work of art, and yet at the same time admit that it is a pure mess?  All of these questions are relevant in a discussion of Terrence Malick’s film “The Tree of Life”.

On the credit side of the column, the film has some stunningly beautiful images of nature, and when I say stunningly beautiful, I mean that sincerely.  These scenes showcase Malick’s talent as a visual filmmaker, a sort of director/poet, who takes the camera into places that other directors might not have the audacity or the nerve to go into.  There is the scent of Kubrick in his visuals.  It’s hard not to be moved by the beauty of the direction and camerawork here, and I applaud his efforts at creating a beautiful visual palette for the film.  

Secondly, there are pieces of the domestic drama of the young sons growing up in a family led by strict father Brad Pitt and loving mother Jessica Chastain that are so true in their realism as to be almost painful, for myself at least.  These scenes showcase the talent of Pitt and Chastain, and especially the cast of young actors, and Malick’s talent as a writer and director of intimate scenes between people.  Chastain is especially impressive, as hers is a largely silent role, and yet the camera lingers so lovingly on her that she becomes the epitome of “mother”.    

If you could extract the finely drawn scenes involving the family, separating them from Malick’s grand vision of God, nature, and the universe (which seems to be his theme), you might have a very well-crafted movie.  Yet, it is the intrusion of the mystical, the fantastic, and the overwhelming that left me feeling exhausted.  Much of the dialogue is whispered, as if in prayer, and you must strain to hear what is being said.  I did strain to hear, because I wanted to hear what Malick had to say about all the great questions of life; something I needed to hear about faith, and love, and loss.

And then there were dinosaurs.  Perhaps they were meant to be metaphoric, but there they were on the screen, actual dinosaurs like from “Jurassic Park”.  This is the point where I felt that Malick took a huge misstep.  I had stretched my mind around the grandiosity of his earlier images, and the silent passages, and the family narrative, but finally grew exhausted by Malick’s schizophrenic filmmaking style; it was simply too much for me, and whatever statement he was trying to make about the meaning of life (if that was indeed his thought) was lost somewhere between the majesty and the quiet.

I’ve struggled for the past two days over what I wanted to say about this film, and I’m still not sure about my feelings.  Perhaps that in itself is a mark of what an artistic dilemma “The Tree of Life” inspired within me.  I’m not convinced that it’s a great film.  While I do admire certain things within the film, very highly, overall I don’t feel that the blend was a success.  I give the man props for attempting something like this, but in the end, I feel it was just a lot of bluster and pomp that weighed down what should’ve been a simple story about growing up, fathers and sons, brothers, and faith.  As it stands, “The Tree of Life” is one hell of a glorious failure.

The Circle Goes On: "The Ides of March" (2011)

As far as political films go, "The Ides of March" doesn't really trod any new ground.  If anything, it reinforces our belief that all politics is dirty, and that even the most idealistic young person with good values will turn to the 'dark side' to further his or her own interests.  Smoothly directed by co-star George Clooney, it does provide some good work by a gallery of interesting actors playing the various politicians and background players during the course of a presidential campaign.

Ryan Gosling is adequate in the central role of political advisor Stephen Meyers, and though Gosling is a capable actor, here he's overshadowed by more seasoned players, like Philip Seymour Hoffman, Paul Giamatti, Jeffrey Wright, and Clooney himself (who displays more of a dark side than we usually see in this genial leading man).

Hoffman and Giamatti are rival campaign managers and they have the look of lifelong political players, Hoffman, indeed gives his second great supporting performance of last year (the other being in "Moneyball"), as a 'seen it all, done it all' guy, who finds himself upended by his own apprentice.  Wright has a couple of good scenes as a charasmatic senator who finds himself in a position of power by holding needed delegates, and even Marisa Tomei makes a good impression as an experienced political reporter.

Clooney is the acting revelation here, though, as the straight shooting man aiming for the White House.  Of course, when we see the beautiful young intern (played by Evan Rachel Wood) early on in the film, it doesn't take much for the imagination to stretch into a scenario that we've been familiar with ever since the Clinton years.  But dodging damaging material that could dislodge his campaign, Clooney shows a hard steeliness behind the familiar smile and pleasant nature, particularly in a late scene in the film between himself and Gosling in a deserted kitchen.  And as the film ends, we can see the beginnings of the same situation that played out earlier in the film  perhaps starting again, proving that nothing ever really changes.  The circle always goes on.

As I said, there's nothing really new here, but it's smart and we can relate to some of the workings of the political machines, especially appropriate during this election year, and with the valuable cast, it's a not-altogether bad way to spend a couple of hours.  If that doesn't exactly sound like praise, well, I gotta call 'em like I see 'em.

I Wanna Go To France!: "Midnight in Paris" (2011)

There can't be many more prolific American filmmakers than Woody Allen.  According to my roommate (by way of IMDb), he's released a film every year since 1982, and his most recent, "Midnight in Paris" is one of his best and most enjoyable.  The premise of the film is an American screenwriter visiting modern-day Paris, who mysteriously finds himself transported back into the city circa the 1920's while walking the city's streets alone at midnight.  Allen's concept, though, is that each generation sees through a golden haze of nostalgia, that which came before, and that even in the earlier time period, there are people who revere an even earlier time.

Allen's trod this ground before, the golden glow of nostalgia, but here it seems fresh and not nearly so cliche as it may sound on paper.  This is partly due to his writing, his casting, and perhaps most importantly, his brevity as a director.  The entire film comes off in just over ninety minutes, and that's all the time Allen needs to tell his story; there's not a gratuitous note in the picture.

And, to be fair, who wouldn't fall in love with the idea of Paris at midnight?  Gil (Owen Wilson, standing in for Allen) certainly does, although his fiancee Inez (Rachel McAdams, just a bit too shrewish in what is basically a thankless role) and her ugly-American-tourist parents fail to fall under the spell of the city the way Gil does, which makes sense, since he's a writer, or, someone who gets paid to dream.

In his nightly reveries, Gil encounters American expatriates Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, Cole Porter, Gertrude Stein, Ernest Hemingway, and a host of other notable names, and Allen mixes a blend of familiar faces (Kathy Bates, Adrien Brody) with relative unknowns (Allison Pill, impressive as hell as Zelda Fitzgerald), and especially Corey Stoll, whom I've never heard of but will be watching with interest in the future, embodying Hemingway.  The most fully-formed of the characters Gil encounters in 1920's Paris is Adriana, the mistress of Picasso, whom he falls in love with.  As played by Marion Cotillard, Adriana is enchanting, and easily shows how she would become the object of affection of a number of potential lovers.  There's something about Cotillard that fits the time period of the film; she seems to belong there, whereas sometimes actors in period films stick out like the proverbial sore thumb, Cotillard is a perfect match.

It's a charming piece of fluff, a bit of a fairy tale, and a love letter to both Paris and the 'idealized' Paris of the past, and a jewel in Woody Allen's filmography.  And it totally makes me want to walk through Paris, at midnight, in the rain, with someone's hand to hold...(sigh).