The Judge - Movie Review by Eric Forthun

The Judge  

Starring Robert Downey Jr., Robert Duvall, Vera Farmiga, Billy Bob Thornton, and Vincent D'Onofrio

Directed by David Dobkin

Rated R

Run Time: 141 minutes

Genre: Drama

Opens October 10th

By Eric Forthun of Cinematic Shadows

The Judge uses the star power of Robert Downey Jr. and Robert Duvall to tell the character-driven story of a father-son duo reunited to save the future of their relationship. Coming at 141 minutes, the film becomes an overlong, repetitive journey into the heart of a man that was ravaged by a busy, overbearing father in his past and must accept that he is his father's only hope at having another chance at life. Courtroom dramas often rely heavily on the unique nature of their cases and the twists that arise from the developments and reveals on the stand, but The Judge pushes those proceedings aside and emphasizes the family drama at the heart of the film to occasionally effective results. There's a subtlety to the two lead performances and a handful of supporting gems that elevate the cliché-driven narrative, yet the film never builds up momentum and fills in the empty voids of storytelling with other trite plot points that feel all too familiar in an already worn out sub-genre.

Hank Palmer (Robert Downey Jr.) is a big-time lawyer living away from his small-town home. He mostly defends people known for being guilty of their crimes and feels confident in his work, despite struggles both at and away from home. Him and his wife are estranged after she cheated on him and their daughter, Lauren (Emma Tremblay), will soon be caught in the mix. For the time being, though, Hank must attend to his mother's death in a return to middle America and a small town that he wanted to keep in his past. He runs into his old fling, Samantha (Vera Farmiga), who runs a diner and seems to be living well while he avoids his renowned judge of a father, Joseph (Robert Duvall), like the plague. They don't get along since they disagreed on many things while they were younger, namely how to respect one another and deal with the others' foolish actions. One of those involves Hank and his brother, Glen (Vincent D'Onofrio), who used to play great baseball but injured his arm in a car accident while Hank was driving.

The incident that keeps Hank in town, though, is the arrest of Joseph on the count of murder. This reverses the playing field for a man that has judged others for crimes for the past forty years and must reconcile with the fact that he possibly killed a man he previously convicted. Joseph cannot stand the thought of Hank representing him and this creates a further divide, particularly as new details emerge about Joseph in his fragile state. The family drama that forms the heart of the film is undoubtedly inspiring and driven by emotional truths. There's something to be said about a mainstream, major studio-backed drama that recalls old Hollywood techniques and employs such visual reminiscences of classic studio films and does it with a serio-comedy feel. Inherently, though, what derives from such dependence on old material is predictability, since the narrative offers no true surprises and instead relies on big, dramatic moments to tell the audience when to feel something. A few intimate scenes arise, particularly between Downey Jr.'s Hank and Jeremy Strong's Dale, as their brotherly relationship prospers with Strong's affecting performance.

Robert Downey Jr. is magnetic on screen and stands as one of the only stars in the business today, and countering him with a legend like Robert Duvall brings out two powerful performances at the heart of the film. Yet like most Hollywood dramas, a big dramatic development happens halfway through the film and undermines the severity of the dilemma being addressed. I won't mention it for fear of spoiling, but it simplifies a complex issue that affects many people. Too many subplots pop up and fail to close out during the film, most involving Carla (Leighton Meester) and Farmiga's Samantha as love interests that drastically impact Hank's life. And lest I forget that the always appealing Billy Bob Thornton is used as a bland, intelligent prosecutor that has one quirk to define him as a person but mostly stands as an enigma to threaten Hank and his family. For every strong actor and character that attempts to emerge in The Judge, the story bogs itself down in exaggerated melodrama and lessens its impact. What could be a promising, intuitive drama about family life instead becomes overdone and unfulfilling.

Kill the Messenger - Movie Review by Michael Clawson

Kill the Messenger  

Starring Jeremy Renner, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Rosemarie DeWitt, Tim Blake Nelson, Andy Garcia, Ray Liotta, Oliver Platt and Michael K. Williams

Directed by Michael Cuesta

From Focus Features

Rated R

112 minutes

by Michael Clawson of Terminal Volume

Late in Kill the Messenger, a journalist is awakened in the middle of the night by a chatty CIA operative who has come to set the record straight. “First, you’re attracted to the power. Then you’re addicted to the power. Then devoured by the power,” the agent says in the shadows. The journalist asks, why are you telling me this? “It’s my confession.”

It’s a pivotal moment in Michael Cuesta’s fantastic new film because it reveals how bad things have become for the reporter, and how much worse they’re still going to get.

The reporter is Gary Webb (Jeremy Renner) and he works for the San Jose Mercury News covering property seizures in Los Angeles drug cases. After a tip, he’s alerted to a courtroom where he witnesses a rather strange thing: a major drug case is dropped simply because Webb is in the courtroom. Federal prosecutors don’t want reporters poking around their key witness, a man named Danilo Blandon, so they drop all charges against a known drug kingpin. This only arouses the curiosity of Webb, who plunges headfirst into the crack epidemic of Los Angeles of the early 1990s.

Renner, channeling his inner Sean Penn, punches his way through this true story with ease, like he was destined to play Webb. But that could be said about many of Renner’s roles — he’s just phenomenal every time. Renner plays Webb like a crusty proto-punk clad in frayed canvas, Metallica and Rancid posters on the garage wall, shaggy hair billowing from his head and chin. When his son asks for advice, it’s a priceless nugget: “Don’t let the assholes win.” Webb is relentless, a characteristic that will bring about his rise and eventual fall.

While researching the elusive Danilo Blandon, Webb ends up at a criminal trial for a mid-level drug dealer who has a great line about his boss — “I was an elf. He was Santa Claus.” Because he can’t get to Blandon directly, Webb waits for him to take the witness stand and then feeds questions to an attorney from the front row of the courtroom. Under oath, Blandon drops a bomb: his boss was not another drug kingpin but a CIA operative. This game-changing fact sends Webb deep down the rabbit hole of government secrets. After trips to South America, countless interviews, prison visitations and a dangerous tour of an airport for drug planes, Webb connects the dots: the CIA was using drugs to fund contras in a secret war in Nicaragua, a war that congress refused to fund.

Webb’s story, with the headline “Dark Alliance,” shook American politics like an earthquake. And for awhile he was a media celebrity who received appearance requests from Montel, Jerry Springer, and 20/20 or 60 Minutes, as long as he would appear on one but not the other. A White House official, sympathetic to moths and flames, tells him, “My friend, some stories are just too true to tell.” But Webb told it. And then it all collapsed.

The downfall started mostly out of professional jealousy. The big papers were sore that the itty bitty San Jose Mercury News and it’s plucky no-name reporter scooped them. The CIA funded the drug epidemic, but the media was more interested in Webb’s reporting style. They were piranha until nothing was left of Webb. It was not a proud moment for journalism.

Kill the Messenger is a sensational journey through Webb’s story. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Cuesta gives the story an immediacy and documentary-like feel with handheld cameras, inserts of drug busts and money-filled apartments, and he lovingly frames Renner as an old-school shoe-leather journalist, a martyr for the truth, a reporter who cut his own path through a story.

The film has an incredible cast, including Tim Blake Nelson as a defense attorney, Rosemarie DeWitt as Webb’s wife, Oliver Platt and Mary Elizabeth Winstead as overwhelmed editors, and Barry Pepper as a slimy federal prosecutor. A number of great actors have only single scenes, including Andy Garcia, Robert Patrick and Michael K. Williams. Ray Liotta, in a perfectly simple one-off scene, plays the trespassing CIA agent with the existential crisis.

The film does not leave the impact of Webb’s work up in the air. It states clearly that the CIA colluded with drug dealers to sell crack cocaine in the United States and to use the money they made to fund a war in South America. You might disagree with that prognosis, but Kill the Messenger has solid reporting speaking on its behalf. The film ends with political heavyweights confirming much of the CIA plot.

Gary Webb was right all along.

Kill the Messenger - Movie Review by Eric Forthun

Kill the Messenger  

Starring Jeremy Renner, Barry Pepper, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Rosemarie DeWitt, Ray Liotta, and Andy Garcia

Directed by Michael Cuesta

Rated R

Run Time: 112 minutes

Genre: Biography/Drama

Opens October 10th

By Eric Forthun of Cinematic Shadows

Kill the Messenger aims to take a look at investigative journalism and how government corruption and seedy underpinnings can dismantle a man's professional and personal life. But despite an admittedly committed performance from Jeremy Renner in a relatively thankless role, the film never develops a sense of urgency around its "based on a true story" narrative. Focusing on real-life whistleblower Gary Webb (Jeremy Renner), a journalist for the San Jose Mercury News, the story explores the exposure of CIA involvement in the Nicaraguan civil war, particularly as United States-backed weapons were supplied to the Contras through money raised by drug sales. It's a dark, horrifying underbelly of our nation's government that the film badly wants to expose in a new light, and it uses intermittently effective scenes in the opening moments to elaborate on the tension between professional journalism and cooperative ignorance. But the hackneyed, painfully melodramatic family subplot that becomes the film's focal point in the second half undermines the brisk, rapid-fire, politically charged film that could have been.

Gary Webb is a journalist that has dealt with some past struggles in his work. An affair has caused a tumultuous relationship with his wife Sue (Rosemarie DeWitt), along with his recently turned 16-year old son Ian (Lucas Hedges). Their family life is far from perfect, creating an even harsher dichotomy once Gary receives information from Coral (Paz Vega), a femme fatale type that involved herself with drugs and realized that there was more to her husband's arrest than simple dealing. He was involved in a drug trade that included the government. The introduction of her character essentially allows the film to funnel exposition through her red lipstick-stained lips, with Coral exuding sexuality and basically acting as a noir-type before the film switches genres when necessary. The story then moves to political thriller as Russell Dodson (Barry Pepper) enters the picture, attempting to steer Gary away from the difficult scenario that awaits him. Gary travels around the country and even heads to Nicaragua to track down the exact origin of his claims and get the support he needs to publish his story.

In that moment, Gary becomes the biggest journalist in the country after exposing the government and all of its flawed actions. He broke the year's biggest story, or at least it seems that way. His story begins to fall apart once sources rescind their statements and the government wipes clean everything that points to the truth. There's a certain harshness to the central narrative driving the film, so it would be fitting for the characters to have urgency and immediacy in their actions and statements. So it's peculiar then, that outside of one scene involving Gary's editor, Anna (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), struggling to decide on how to post a particular article, the film doesn't move at a break-neck speed. The pacing forces the film to dismantle itself at the seams and focus on the family drama that undermines the central story: Webb's discovery and its aftermath. By making his character such a bland, mostly emotionless enigma with his family and an impassioned, vocal journalist, it creates an off-putting, mixed signal about his personality. Renner's performance is subtle only in sparse scenes and mostly asks him for large outbursts when the role requires more nuance than that.

The cast is superb and should stand as one of the most well-rounded ensembles of the year: Ray Liotta, Michael Sheen, Andy Garcia, Michael Kenneth Williams, Oliver Platt, Tim Blake Nelson, and more join the others listed above in a star-driven, women-less ensemble. The three females in the film are weak, submissive, and pushed aside by a narrative that doesn't care about their individualism but rather their importance to Webb's presence: Winstead's character only counters Webb to prove that he is right, DeWitt's character declares her hopeless love for him when he's clearly a reprehensible man, and Vega acts as a sex object that's given exposition because the narrative can't find another way to deliver subtle storytelling. I attended the film with a friend who said that the film is "5% really good, 5% mind-numbingly terrible, and 90% milquetoast." That's an apt description for Kill the Messenger, a film with a solid journalistic conscience that wastes its premise on derivative characterizations and simplified, monotonous developments.

Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day - Movie Review by Eric Forthun

Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day  

Starring Steve Carell, Jennifer Garner, Ed Oxenbould, Dylan Minnette, Kerris Dorsey, and Megan Mullaly

Directed by Miguel Arteta

Rated PG

Run Time: 81 minutes

Genre: Family/Comedy

Opens October 10th

By Eric Forthun of Cinematic Shadows

Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day doesn't feature the cataclysmically awful day that the title suggests, at least by an adult's standards. For a kid, I can imagine the day full of calamities and mishaps would be considered the worst day of their lives (so far). Maybe that's why the latest film from Disney, adapted from the 1972 children's book, feels so appropriate and cognizant of its target audience. The film is an acceptable family film and a pleasant, light romp, one that cares about characters and goes for simple, direct laughs. It's refreshing to see a kind-hearted film like Alexander amidst all of the self-serious, overly dramatic fare opening around this time of year in hopes of Oscar recognition. Here we have a film that carries a lead actor that will be seen at the Oscars (in Steve Carell, whose Foxcatcher opens in December) but doesn't fret about filling itself with insincerities.

The film centers on Alexander Cooper (Ed Oxenbould), a middle school boy that feels ignored on the day before his birthday. He gets gum stuck in his hair, his brother torments him, and his parents are busy trying to make their jobs work with such a busy schedule. Alexander's father, Ben (Steve Carell), lost his aerospace occupation seven months ago due to downsizing and feels the weight of the family on his shoulders. The recession destroyed his career. He's been searching for some job to hold but cannot find one that fits his set of skills; his days consist of "fammy" (father mommy) duties, namely taking their newborn to classes while driving around the kids to school. Ben's wife, Kelly (Jennifer Garner), works for a publishing company and has to deal with a new book launch happening on Alexander's birthday. If it's a success, she'll get a promotion. Alexander's sister, Emily (Kerris Dorsey), is playing Peter Pan at her school play while his brother Anthony (Dylan Minnette) has prom to manage with his high-maintenance girlfriend. Alexander merely wishes that they could all experience his struggles, and sure enough, his wish comes true.

The film is brisk and fluid in its developments, running a scant 81 minutes (77 without credits). I think that's a perfect length for a children's film, particularly as Alexander addresses all of its characters and their insecurities with the right amount of heart and poignancy. Disney family films often have that certain level of artificial assembly, feeling like many hands participated in making the film as easygoing and carefree as possible. There's nothing objectionable or challenging about social norms or familial structures, even if recession commentary stems from the parental struggles. Carell and Garner both deliver terrific performances in roles that give them basic outlines but they bring to life as tangible people. The adolescent performances are good if nothing remarkable, with all of the actors having excellent comedic timing. There are plenty of laughs. While Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day may sound like a chaotic drag based on its title and premise, it's a quiet delight that stands as substantive entertainment for families.

You're Not You - Movie Review by Eric Forthun

You're Not You  

Starring Hilary Swank, Emmy Rossum, Josh Duhamel, Ali Larter, and Jason Ritter

Directed by George C. Wolfe

Rated R

Run Time: 102 minutes

Genre: Drama

Opens October 10th

By Eric Forthun of Cinematic Shadows

You're Not You features two terrific performances from Hilary Swank and Emmy Rossum, actresses that elevate the predictable narrative through strong character arcs. The two people in the film come from vastly different backgrounds, both dealing with the repercussions of a disease as harrowing and life-changing as ALS (also known as Lou Gehrig's). Kate (Hilary Swank) is a classical pianist that lives in a nice home in a stable relationship with Evan (Josh Duhamel), a man who takes his job seriously and wants the best for his recently married woman. Kate, however, begins to shake one day and realizes that something might be going wrong. The film jumps to a year and a half later, with Kate partially paralyzed and unable to move her hands while her husband takes care of her every waking moment of every day. She needs a care taker, so in walks Bec (Emmy Rossum), a whirlwind of a college student that needs to get her life in check before she decides to care for someone else. There's work to do.

Bec tended in a nursing home a while back but aspires to be a musician. She's great at starting songs and horrible at finishing them, whether that be through writing or actual performing. She drinks herself to sickness multiple times throughout the film, sleeping with men and running late often while never committing to any type of relationship. Yet her employment with Kate enlightens her. Kate struggles with day-to-day tasks that people take for granted, like going to the bathroom and eating. That takes a while for Bec to adjust to, particularly as she realizes that Kate had similar career aspirations before everything changed. Rossum and Swank sell these roles exceptionally well, even as the material treads overly familiar ground in the second half. Rossum plays a rather unlikable, uncontrolled brat when she is introduced, allowing for Bec to transform before our eyes as she sees the suffering within Kate's life. Swank does a similarly affecting job as Kate, allowing her character to exude mental strength when she physically cannot do much and to demonstrate power as the disease rapidly takes control of her life.

Films about heart-wrenching ailments work only when they produce an unfamiliar narrative. Many films have attempted to address diseases like ALS, Alzheimer's, and Parkinson's but end up painting broad pictures about the victims and their relatives or families. You're Not You mostly avoids those tropes by showing the immobility and weakened strength of joints stemming from ALS, using struggles at a dinner table with friends and walking down a hallway as signs of Kate's crippling abilities. But the characterizations begin to grow more simplistic as the film progresses, and the narrative moves through the motions of melodrama rather than earning the emotion. It's unfortunate considering it hinders the film's power when it should floor the audience. Swank's work here is exceptional and aligns with some of her strongest work, using transformation as a means of expressing change. It's compelling. Director George C. Wolfe, best known for making Nights in Rodanthe, uses similar storytelling ploys to get maximum drama, and while that takes away from the film's overall impact, the performances shine through. ALS is a serious, tragic disease, and You're Not You enlightens us in an inconsistently moving way.

#Stuck - Movie Review by Michael Clawson

#Stuck  

Starring Madeline Zima, Joel David Moore and Abraham Benrubi

Directed by Stuart Acher

From Stupendous Films

Rated R

87 minutes

by Michael Clawson of Terminal Volume

After fractured thriller Memento hit it big, many films tinkered with alternating, time-bending plots. #Stuck has the unique distinction of stealing the narrative structure wholesale with no attempt to alter or deviate from Memento’s intricate layout.

#Stuck begins its theft, like Christopher Nolan’s mystery thriller from 2000, smack dab in the middle of the story: Holly and Guy (like Guy Pearce from Memento) wake up after a one-night stand to take stock of their respective hangovers. Holly’s car is across town, so Guy offers to drive her. As the sobering-up couple get snarled in an epic traffic jam — she calls it the “drive of shame” — the film is intercut with flashbacks that begin with the sex (shot in an awkward first-person perspective) and then creep backward in time with each new flashback, revealing the foreplay then the dancing at the bar, then the drinking at the bar and eventually their arrival at the bar. So, as one part of the film trods forward, the flashbacks lumber backward.

Although, the setup is not original, and not altogether necessary, it provides an interesting dichotomy: the further away from the middle #Stuck gets, the more I liked it. Holly and Guy are terrible drunks, and their buzzed banter is cringeworthy, but as their monumental traffic jam balloons to absurd proportions — engines are shut off, motorists hang out of open doors, UPS drivers tinker on their phones — they slowly begin to reveal who they are.

Guy, played by Joel David Moore (the lanky sidekick in Avatar), is a hook-up artist, but also a nerdy tax dweeb with a license plate that reads “APR 15.” Holly, played by Madeline Zima — equal parts Moira Kelly, Meg Ryan and Maggie Gyllenhaal — is a lawyer and serial monogamist. Together they don’t have much chemistry, but they’re so likable on their own it’s almost forgivable.

Stuart Acher’s film looks and sounds very low-budget, because it is, although he uses his money and resources wisely. Notice how the traffic jam scenes take place on a slow curve on a Los Angeles freeway, which prevents us from seeing down a long, and expensive, row of stopped cars. And when he can’t shoot thousands of real cars stacked up on the highway he uses budget CGI to show the scope of the carmageddon. It’s cheap, but also kinda charming.

Where #Stuck, which has the hashtag for no discernible reason, gets especially mired is in its wonky dialogue. There’s simply too much of it, and whole passages lead to dead ends, as if anyone cared what Guy really thought about women and cell phones — “Another vibrating device that men have to compete with,” he shrugs. The writing quality is most noticeable in the sex scenes and random sex discussions, because there is nothing worse than bad dialogue except bad sexually explicit dialogue.

The film ends precisely where you expected it to. On the other side of the Memento curve, it begins in a place you won’t expect, which might make you wonder why the film had flashbacks to begin with. I wondered that, too. Maybe it just got stuck?

The Blue Room - Movie Review by Eric Forthun

The Blue Room  

Starring Mathieu Amalric, Léa Drucker, Stéphanie Cléau, and Mona Jaffart

Directed by Mathieu Amalric

Rated NR

Run Time: 76 minutes

Genre: Thriller/Romance

Opens October 10th

By Eric Forthun of Cinematic Shadows

The Blue Room tackles marriage and infidelity with precision and tact, ruthlessly portraying the lengths that people will go to preserve their love. The film is directed by its French lead actor, Mathieu Amalric, an acclaimed character actor from studio films such as Quantum of Solace and The Grand Budapest Hotel. He has made an exploration of love that spiritually feels connected to French New Wave cinema, using hypnotic flashbacks and expert framing to tell a story far more expansive than its admittedly simple premise. These are complex characters with lustful motivations. Julien Gahyde (Mathieu Amalric) is married to Delphine (Léa Drucker), and they live in a respectable home with a lovely daughter. Julien doesn't love Delphine, though, but falls for Esther Despierre (Stéphanie Cléau), the wife of one of his friends. They meet in a blue room at a hotel to secretly make love as often as they can.

They bite at each other, they lie naked for hours after making love, and they embrace every chance they get. Their love is fully realized. Yet the film jumps between those flashbacks and a darker, modern narrative, with Julien in custody for the supposed murder of...someone. When it's revealed that Esther is also accused of a similar crime, the case feels embroiled in passion and jealousy. The story doesn't extend much past that initial set-up, using criminal questioning and the court case itself as the means of delivering the full narrative. The flashbacks reveal a troubled marriage that was fueled by a wife full of suspicion and a husband full of ambivalence. A key scene involves the couple going on a date to the movies, him parking the car while she buys tickets, and him driving as quickly as possible down the street to meet with Esther. The silence in the theater between the two shows the silent, tragic acknowledgement of the truth behind their façade.

Stunning cinematography traditionally comes hand-in-hand with French filmmaking, so it's unsurprising that the distanced, cold glance of the camera further isolates the couple and their cheating actions. A stark mirroring device by Amalric accentuates the passion and lack thereof that exists between the two separate couples: blood drips from Julien's lips after a sexual encounter leaves his lip a little bloody, while an encounter at home with Delphine uses a similarly colored liquid in an equally affecting way. The film treats sexuality as candidly and appropriately as it should, considering its necessity to understanding the narrative. Nudity is treated as nonchalant and Amalric never moves away from what needs to be seen. The film silently floored me and made me feel similar to Gone Girl, since both films focus on disintegrating marriages in a modern society and the way that passion can be both lost and regained. The Blue Room is a short, more deliberately nuanced take on the material, making for a devastatingly honest romance.

Automata - Movie Review by Michael Clawson

Automata  

Starring Antonio Banderas, Melanie Griffith, Dylan McDermot, Robert Forster and Birgitte Hjort Sørensen

Directed by Gabe Ibáñez

From Green Moon and Millennium Entertainment

Rated R

by Michael Clawson of Terminal Volume

What began as a crusty Blade Runner clone quickly turned into a fascinating sci-fi experimentation before evaporating into the wind. Automata has no shortage of ups and downs, that’s for sure.

It opens in a neon-painted haze of cheap futurism. And there’s Dylan McDermott doing his best “Marlboro Man in space” impression. “This is not going to go well,” is the first thing I thought about Automata. But then the Gabe Ibáñez’s film started to grow on me, and then it impressed me. A lot. I can’t say that I stayed impressed, but that’s life at the movies.

I didn’t know anything about Automata walking into it, which is rare even for people who avoid the trailers. I went in so green to Automata’s charms that it took me a minute to recognize the star — “Holy shit, that’s Antonio Banderas!”

He plays Jacq Vaucan, an insurance agent for a big robotics manufacturer in the distant future, when boxy robots clunk around as maids, dishwashers, chefs and babysitters. These aren’t the sleek space-bots of other sci-fi films, but the slow-moving plastic robots coming out of Japan even today. The robots, called Pilgrims, are programmed with basic protocols: first, to not harm anyone, and secondly, to not attempt to alter itself or other robots. The first protocol is the catch-all, and the second is the insurance policy, because a robot can’t change the first rule due to the existence of the second.

For the most part, the protocols work, until strange things start happening: one robot is seen fixing itself, another sets itself on fire in an attempt to hide evidence, and a third, a sex robot, seems destined to start a robot revolution, which goes against both protocols, not to mention all of Isaac Asimov’s robot rules.

The early parts of the movie are infused with mystery and wonder — and minimalist low-fi special effects — while the characters propel forward seeking out answers in the techno-geek universe. Jacq and his robot counterparts fall a little flat, but the world is so intriguing it fills in the holes with its neo-apocalypse details: a giant robot-built wall separates the city from a nuclear wasteland, everyone wears Blade Runner-like plastic raincoats, holographic billboards use the skyscrapers as stripper poles, the gloomy fluorescent-blue lighting gives the world a headache-inducing sheen and the sky is filled with metal blimps, huge dirigibles tethered to the earth with clusters of metal pipes. Occasionally the blimps rain contaminated water down on the city and its plastic-wrapped residents. What does it all mean? I don’t know that Automata has all the answers, but it sure does look great.

The middle of the movie begins when Jacq and several robotos, including the hooker model (voiced by Banderas’ soon-to-be ex wife, Melanie Griffith), escape the city and start pulling a Lawrence of Arabia across the nuclear desert. And this is where the movie started to slip. The mystery and building dread abruptly stop as the human and his robotic buddies wander through the wasteland. I kept hoping their ultimate destination would be a worthy payoff, but it’s mostly just wandering to no end. After 30 minutes of this, it’s sad to look back at the beginning and recall how fresh and inventive it started. It could have been this year’s District 9, but then it floats away. Not that’s it a complete failure — it just had so much potential.

Still, though, sci-fi fans will find plenty to gaze at in this under-the-radar flick.

Automata - Movie Review by Eric Forthun

Automata  

Starring Antonio Banderas, Dylan McDermott, Melanie Griffith, Robert Forster, and Birgitte Hjort Sørensen

Directed by Gabe Ibañez

Rated R

Run Time: 109 minutes

Genre: Sci-Fi

Opens October 10th

By Eric Forthun of Cinematic Shadows

Automata is an ambitious science fiction fable that tackles its lofty premise in occasionally affecting ways, opting for familiar tropes of the genre and a simplified, melodramatic romantic story instead of conceptually driven storytelling. The film produces an engrossing lead performance from Antonio Banderas in a role that asks him to be on the brink of death for much of the story, allowing his troubled soul to consider his personal life and just how much his family means to him. What allows for a promising emotional core turns into a derivative sci-fi tale with lofty themes: what if human beings have grown inhuman while robots have evolved into conscious, emotionally charged beings? It's a semblance of a strong thematic pull that could've been told in an excitingly new way. Instead, it feels like a combination of blockbuster elements from films like I, Robot and A.I.: Artificial Intelligence.

The film centers on Jacq Vaucan (Antonio Banderas), an insurance agent of ROC, a robotics corporation that has prided itself on its advanced automatons. Thirty years into the future, solar flares have messed with the Earth's atmosphere, killed 99.7% of the population, and humanity had to recuperate somehow. By developing these automations called Pilgrims, they put in two protocols that they must follow in order to sustain human life: they cannot harm human beings, and they cannot repair or replicate themselves. Sure enough, Jacq's investigations lead to him finding robots getting past that second protocol, repairing themselves and resembling some form of consciousness. He also has a home life involving a pregnant wife, Rachel (Birgitte Hjort Sørensen), who mostly exists as a love interest while Jacq fights for his life. Meanwhile, Wallace (Dylan McDermott) and other members of the robotics corporation hunt down Jacq on suspicion of him helping the robots bypass the protocols, fueling anti-robot rage.

There's a certain technical capability to Ibañez's direction, as he tackles an extraordinarily massive topic and attempts to produce it around a single individual on a modest budget. Emotionally, the film doesn't tackle nearly as many powerful moments as it should, but there's a scene that strikes me with its audacity and bluntness. Jacq discusses the future with a robot that has clearly developed an understanding of humanity, and the robots puts it eloquently: that humans are finite and robots can use their evolution to be infinite, all of which is thanks to humanity's conception of robotics. That's powerful. Visually, the film stuns and captivates because the effects feel seamless. The robots interact masterfully with humans and the story uses them to build interesting cinematography around the dichotomy between the two. Ultimately, though, the story relies on clichés and an overly familiar, rudimentary romance that simplifies the female's role and makes her dispensable. Nonetheless, ambition is admirable and Automata uses its far-reaching premise to sporadically engaging results.

Meet the Mormons - Movie Review by Michael Clawson

Meet the Mormons  

Directed by Blair Treu

From Excel Entertainment Group

Rated PG

78 minutes

by Michael Clawson of Terminal Volume

In 1948, an Air Force pilot dropping food and provisions to civilians over Soviet-controlled Germany during the Berlin Airlift came up with a risky idea: as he cleared the blockaded city he would make one final drop, one filled with candy and sweets for Berlin’s children.

He got the idea earlier while standing next to the border fence and talking to the children, who were pawns in a larger Cold War game played after World War II. The pilot, Gail Halvorsen, split two sticks of gum and handed them through the fence. The children were in awe — the ones that didn’t get gum sniffed the foil wrapper.

Later, risking a court martial and an international spectacle, Halvorsen began what would later be called Operation Little Vittles, a plan to drop candy into communist-controlled Germany.

Oh, and Halvorsen is a Mormon in case the title was a little misleading.

The pilot’s story is one of six told in Blair Treu’s documentary Meet the Mormons, a film meant to humanize a religion and its curious, at times strange, members. Make no mistake about the film’s intentions: it’s a PR symphony orchestrated and funded by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, known colloquially as the Mormon church. The roots of the film likely come from the church’s last media blitz, which included commercials of normal-looking folks proclaiming, “I’m a Mormon.” None of the commercials looked this amazing, though — seriously, the photography is gorgeous.

Halvorsen’s story is easily the most fascinating, although examinations of separate families from Nepal and Atlanta are insightful and show varied cultures in a church widely known for its lily-white Utah-dwelling members. We first see Halvorsen as he’s soaring over California, light glittering off the water, the sunset hugging the horizon in a warm embrace. “God created this,” he says, and surely many will agree. Religion and faith creep into some of the interviews, but the film allows its subjects to speak about who they are, what their lives are like and, eventually, why their church is right for them. It’s preachy, but in a subtle, non-threatening and informative way.

Meet the Mormons examines the roles of the church’s clergy, white-shirted missionaries, its reach around the globe, and its influence and inclusion in modern culture — an opening narration is quick to quote Mormon references in South Park, Fletch, 30 Rock, The Simpsons and other entertainment. (Although, shots in Times Square don’t acknowledge the Broadway musical The Book of Mormon.) It does an interesting job showing varied people, including a Costa Rican female kickboxer, a single mother, a professional football coach, and the couple from Nepal, who risked alienation from their community when they began practicing their western Christian religion.

Because it’s created by the church, don’t expect in-depth examinations of the religion’s more newsworthy items. For instance, its support of anti-gay legislation is not something that comes up. It’s mostly a feel-good look into the LDS church and the lives of its members. Mormons, obviously, will treasure it and what it represents to them and their faith. Curious non-Mormons might find some value in the stories, as well. Most audiences, though, will likely recognize Meet the Mormons for what it is: a PR project designed to launch a national discussion about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. (The church has announced that all proceeds from ticket sales will go to the Red Cross.)

Now, full disclosure, I’m a Mormon. Have been all my life. As a member I can honestly say that Meet the Mormons captures the spirit of the church and what it means to be a member. As a film critic, though, I can’t help but think that Meet the Mormons is a little flimsy. These stories are inspirational, but not quite enough for a full documentary. The look and feel of the film is genuine, but it beats the central theme — “Mormons are just like you! — over your head one too many times. That being said, though, the film is bland yet cheerful, and altogether innocent. If it makes people question their ideas about who or what Mormons are, then it likely served its producers' purpose.

Dracula Untold - Movie Review by Monte Yazzie

Dracula Untold  

Dir: Gary Shore

Starring: Luke Evans, Sarah Gadon, Dominic Cooper, and Charles Dance

Opens October 10, 2014

by Monte Yazzie - The Coda Films

Bram Stoker’s iconic monster finds an origin story in “Dracula Untold”, though the vision of darkness is substituted with a less immortal creature for a more morally human leader forced into a desperate decision to save his family and homeland. Director Gary Shore incorporates most of the typical subgenre tropes and attempts to lavish up the story with breakneck CGI that mostly feels like a distraction.

Vlad (Luke Evans), retired from Impaling, lives a peaceful life with his wife Mirena (Sarah Gadon) and son (Art Parkinson). Peace doesn’t last long as the head of the Ottoman Empire, Sultan Mehmed (Dominic Cooper), demands one thousand Transylvanian boys for his forces including Vlad’s only child. Faced with this decision Vlad chooses defiance, though he is severely undermanned for the impending war. Knowing defeat is imminent Vlad follows folklore into a cave where he meets an ancient supernatural force (Charles Dance). Vlad is granted the power to defeat his enemies but in order to regain his mortal life he must resist the temptation to feed on blood or risk being a creature of the night for eternity.

Much of the vampire mythos remains intact here; blood serves as life while sunlight and silver are still objects of weakness. Vlad is portrayed counter to the brutal tales that typify his legend, here Vlad is an honorable family man and diligent ruler. However, his past exploits of ruthless warfare are still presented, given explanation by an upbringing in captivity and a motivation to strike fear into his enemies. The progression of Vlad's character happens rather quickly and somewhat sloppily, it soon becomes a waiting game for the impending encounter with the dark force. This meeting is the shining moment in the film particularly because of the use of veteran actor Charles Dance as The Master Vampire. Dance controls the scene with a menacing allure, playfully taping his long fingernails across the drawn sword of Vlad before easily disarming him. It’s easily the scariest, a loosely used term here, in the film.

The progression of Vlad’s abilities are exaggerated by an abundance of computer graphics, thousands of bats uniformly assisting in battle sequences as Vlad orchestrates with a composer-like performance. While in other scenes hand to hand combat shifts with a mix of hyper movements that are reminiscent of the producing company’s other property “300”. It never works as nicely as it should, mostly because it’s not implemented with any subtlety to enhance the scene instead feeling more distracting and overdone.

Luke Evans does a suitable job as Vlad, his fear for his family and regrets of his past come through nicely in a few scenes. With “Dracula Untold” you are getting everything the trailer conveys, simply an effects driven horror film that offers the viewer a safe Halloween option at the movie theater. Unfortunately for genre fans looking for the frightening Dracula from Stoker’s tale, this origin is fairly tame.

Monte’s Rating / 2.00 out of 5.00

Gone Girl - Movie Review by Michael Clawson

Gone Girl  

Starring Ben Affleck, Rosemund Pike, Carrie Coon, Tyler Perry, Neil Patrick Harris and Kim Dickens

Directed by David Fincher

From Twentieth Century Fox

Rated R

149 minutes

by Michael Clawson of Terminal Volume

Gone Girl starts at the beginning and ends where it started. It’s construction — and ultimately it’s vast manipulation — is circular and dizzying. When it was over I wasn’t sure if I wanted take a deep breath and stagger out of the theater, or go for another ride.

Here is a film that knows what it is and where it’s going and does not for even a single nanosecond waver from its course. It’s complete and fulfilled — cinematic zen. Not a frame of it is out of place. It is a capable picture, one executed with precision and skill by, of course, David Fincher. He’s been making movies like this his entire career, and yet this one demonstrates his absolute mastery of the medium of motion pictures.

The film stars two characters on similar trajectories, but in different locations. Picture two satellites circling a planet but on opposite sides of the same orbit: their views are different, but their journey is the same. One of the characters is Nick Dunne (Ben Affleck), a washed up Missouri writer with mountains of debt, a dive bar and a wife who might hate his guts. His wife is Amy (Rosamund Pike), and in the opening scenes she turns up missing. Nick seems concerned, but not overwhelmingly so.

As the police launch their investigation, the town first comes to Nick’s side to help him search, and grieve, until they realize that he may have killed her. He has no alibi, the crime scene looks staged, evidence has been tampered with, and there are some concerning journal entries, some of them told in flashbacks by Amy herself. There’s also the issue of Nick smiling at press conferences, seemingly unconcerned about Amy’s whereabouts, and he’s hiding secrets that threaten to destroy his wholesome public image. As the case drags on, people in town start staring and sizing him up: “Yeah, he could be a murderer. Definitely,” their eyes suggest. A TV news anchor in the style of Nancy Grace, the self-appointed public executioner on daytime television, all but indicts Nick for a murder that still has no body or murder weapon. A downward spiral shifts him out of orbit.

That’s the first act of Gone Girl and I don’t dare tell you further plot points since the film is built around its tightly packed secrets, and saying any more would be like walking through a minefield wearing Ronald McDonald’s sneakers — very dangerous. The cast is large and complicated, and every performance is marvelous, especially Pike, who plays a narrator so unreliable that I was silently wondering if she even existed at all. Her performance is transcendent and terrifying. Affleck, with some of his Batman muscle already showing, holds his own as the knot Nick tied for himself is pulled tighter and tighter.

The rest of the cast is glorious: Neil Patrick Harris plays a scorned ex-lover, Kim Dickens is a whip-smart detective, a grown-up Patrick Fugit is her partner, Tyler Perry plays a high-profile defense attorney, and Carrie Coon, the glue of HBO’s Leftovers, is Nick’s supportive sister. Coon takes a disposable supporting role and elevates it into the stratosphere.

Stepping away from the story and cast, though, Gone Girl is an exploration in technical subtlety. The nuts and bolts of the film, often overlooked in movies, are profoundly focused here, so much so that you might not even notice them, which is the way it should be. The cinematography is dark and moody, with lots of saturated colors and shadowy accents, and it perfectly suits the growing tension in Nick Dunne’s collapsing world. I loved a scene during a candlelight vigil; lights above Nick’s head cast long menacing shadows over his eyes and face. The editing is often slow and simple, yet also astute and nimble when required. The editing is punctuated by the mesmerizing and meditative score, which fades in and out as the film jumps around in time with Amy’s deceptive journal entries. Gone Girl doesn’t have the editing of a Scorsese film, the music of a Quentin Tarantino, or the cinematography of a David Lean, but even without all the flash it feels competent, balanced and efficient.

The film comes from the blockbuster novel of the same name by Gillian Flynn, who also wrote the screenplay. I have not read the book, although it’s on my reading list, even now that I know how it ends. And speaking of endings, of course this one packs a wallop. I wouldn’t expect anything less from the guy who killed Ellen Ripley, murdered Tyler Durden, solved the Zodiac case, saved Facebook and had one of his most popular picture end with a FedEx delivery. Fincher knows how to cap off movies, and he’s an expert on guiding characters to their destinies, no matter how pathetic, violent or rewarding they may be.

What’s so remarkable about the way Fincher and Flynn tie up Gone Girl is how circular its journey is. It’s a film about manipulation and control and deception. While Nick might be a victim in this spiraling whirligig, he’s also the perpetrator. And we are his subjects.

Gone Girl - Movie Review by Monte Yazzie

Gone Girl  

Director: David Fincher

Starring: Ben Affleck, Rosamund Pike, Carrie Coon, Tyler Perry, Neil Patrick Harris, Kim Dickens, and Patrick Fugit

149 Minutes

Rated R

by Monte Yazzie - TheCodaFilms.com

David Fincher has made a career taking audiences to dark places with bad people. In the beginning moments of Gillian Flynn’s scripted adaptation of her popular novel “Gone Girl”, a man is gentle caressing the head of a beautiful woman, the way two people in love would, however the voice-over narration concerning the situation is a violent soliloquy of hatred. Fincher meticulously expands the impressions of deceit and hatred seen in the opening and seduces the viewer into a two hour plus unsettling journey that is also completely mesmerizing.

Nick (Ben Affleck) and Amy Dunne (Rosamund Pike) portray a fairy tale like existence, one that blossoms with the kind of flirtation and charisma that is inevitably bound to end with a storied kiss in the perfect atmosphere. A few years into marriage and the sheen of new love has dulled and problems, like a fledgling economy, puts adversity into the relationship. Survival instincts take over and difficult decisions are made uprooting the couple to the Midwest. Distances grow bigger and the once inseparable couple are now strangers living under the same roof. Then Amy disappears under circumstances that place Nick at the wrath of a media circus.

Flynn’s novel is told with a unique perspective, offering alternating discussions from the point of view of both Nick and Amy. It’s complex and would seem difficult to sustain intrigue and mystery, however in the skillful hands of David Fincher the film comes to life with a flood of harsh emotion. To explain or offer specific examples from the film would be to spoil the surprises of the multifaceted character driven narrative. Fincher’s recognizable aesthetic of color-drained scenes highlighted by a mixture of contrasted grey and blue make the film feel void of life, a design that accommodates the characters who themselves display heartless feelings and actions. It’s never an easy or pleasurable experience to watch unfold, terrible people doing terrible things, and in fact feels and emulates characteristics more akin to a horror film. It’s impressive how the film crafts the characters, painting them initially in amiable ways then revealing the composed façade. Fincher makes you root for different characters, forcing the viewer to change allegiances, yet at the core you are ultimately cheering for a different kind of villain.

Ben Affleck is great as the charming though deceitful Nick, his small-town-guy appeal is noticeable from the beginning and exploited often. Whether to redirect suspicions or emphasize trust, Nick is a pawn for the narrative transitions and Affleck executes. Rosamund Pike is exceptional. Amy is conniving, methodical, and overall intelligent. Fincher incorporates these qualities with physical changes and emotional outbursts that range from controlled to frantic. Pike strikes every note. The supporting cast is pinpoint, from Tyler Perry’s shrewd defense attorney to Kim Dickens’ discerning detective, everyone accomplishes.

David Fincher’s filmmaking is meticulously composed to keep the viewer from finding their balance. Gillian Flynn’s narrative structure accommodates the design, the score evokes an emotion of dread and despair, and the performances are near impeccable. While the film may drag just a bit in the latter half, Fincher never loses grasp but instead keeps the tone darkly entertaining and the mystery enthralling until the credits role.

Monte’s Rating: 4.25 out of 5.00

Gone Girl - Movie Review by Eric Forthun

Gone Girl  

Starring Ben Affleck, Rosamund Pike, Neil Patrick Harris, Tyler Perry, Carrie Coon, and Kim Dickens

Directed by David Fincher

Rated R

Run Time: 149 minutes

Genre: Mystery/Thriller

Opens October 3rd

By Eric Forthun of Cinematic Shadows

Gone Girl opens and closes on the same haunting shot, as one emphasizes an eerie voiceover while the other primarily focuses on a person in the frame. It's only one of the many devastatingly effective tactics in David Fincher's film, a twisty, manipulative, compulsively gripping story of the disintegration of a marriage and the search for a wife gone missing. The titular character is Amy Dunne (Rosamund Pike), whose husband Nick (Ben Affleck) used to work as a journalist before both him and his wife lost their jobs due to recession downsizing. Nick's departure from his house one day seems just like every other, but upon his return he notices a glass table broken, signs of a struggle, and a missing wife. Something went horribly wrong. The police begin to investigate and realize that things don't add up: Nick's strange, ambivalent behavior signifies psychopathic leanings while his portrayal of a blissful marriage and a friendless, quiet Amy shows that their coupling has some mysteries.

The story gains mainstream media attention and cable news eats up the story, accusing Nick of murdering his wife while suspicion increasingly leads toward a domestic incident. Did Nick Dunne kill his wife? That forms the framework for the film and propels the action forward slowly and methodically. Nick and Amy's marriage gets assessed through flashbacks as the audience sees the couple through a manipulated lens from an untrustworthy point-of-view, considering the deceit that continues to unravel over the film's duration. Yet the beginning of their love was strong and resonant for both, with passion in both of their hearts and a sex-filled romance that never let up. Gillian Flynn's script loyally follows her novel while economically cutting the pieces that need to be tossed, even if that means discarding much of the social commentary that went along with the couple's dismantling. The semblance of economic hardships leading to a frustrated, desperate marriage only graze the surface of Fincher's overarching cinematic themes.

Yet the central twist of the film, if that is even the appropriate term for such an important plot development, lays the fabric for the film's drive and makes the story all the more rapid-fire and confident. Fincher and his longtime editor, Kirk Baxter, make a wholly unique narrative through the splicing of the flashbacks and the rest of the narrative in the second half. Scenes take longer to develop and spend more time on characterizations and exchanges in the film's opening moments, providing a lack of urgency and feeling melodramatic. That's undoubtedly intentional considering the tonal change the editing creates in the second half, as scenes become more economical and rigid in style, with compact, airtight moments emerging in the sea of mystery. It's startlingly effective filmmaking. The music by Reznor and Ross, their third collaboration with Fincher after their Oscar-winning The Social Network and nominated The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, is their most subtle and moody to date, staying quiet only to pounce when needed.

The reason Gone Girl clicks and unravels with such vivacity and deranged power is Rosamund Pike. She delivers a compellingly chilled performance that uses her dynamic voice to mesmerize and trick the viewer. The film grows into a cat-and-mouse style affair that works because of her energy and confidence; she is a bold, strong woman that fights for herself and stands as one of Fincher's strongest female characters to date. Affleck is perfectly cast and demonstrates his magnetism as a star power in today's business, hiding plenty underneath his calm demeanor to show the capabilities of a man trapped in a publicized struggle with an equally powerful wife. Even if the film briefly addresses the social issues that work within the dynamics of the film and only briefly captures the manner in which media can consume, contort, and control a high-profile case, Fincher still brings his touch to this 149-minute criminal investigation of suburban hell. The film's cinematographer, Jeff Cronenweth, may not explore as many challenging scenes as he usually does, but the darkly tinted, wealth-stained images emphasize the brutal, harsh world that these characters inhabit. Gone Girl stings and leaves the viewer both cold and wanting more. That's an impressive feat.

The Good Lie - Movie Review by Eric Forthun

The Good Lie  

Starring Reese Witherspoon, Arnold Oceng, Ger Duany, Emmanuel Jal, Corey Stoll, and Kuoth Wiel

Directed by Philippe Falardeau

Rated PG-13

Run Time: 110 minutes

Genre: Drama

Opens October 3rd

By Eric Forthun of Cinematic Shadows

The Good Lie comes from the producer of The Blind Side, a similarly themed film focusing on an African-American football player from a troubled home going under the wing of a wealthy white woman. It was a tale that won Sandra Bullock an Oscar and made over $300 million worldwide, but it was ultimately a film about Bullock's character rather than a story that appropriately tackled race. The Good Lie becomes its own specimen of socially aware film, one driven by emotional power and independently-minded storytelling that makes it a special breed of major motion picture (particularly when it's advertised star Reese Witherspoon is non-existent for much of the film). Centering on the "Lost Boys of Sudan," the story starts in Sudan in the 1980s and focuses on a group of youngsters: Mamere (Arnold Oceng), Jeremiah (Ger Duany), Paul (Emmanuel Jal), Mamere's sister Abital (Kuoth Wiel), and Mamere's brother Theo (Femi Oguns). Facing the turmoil of a civil war in their home, they flee the country and aim to find refuge in a less volatile place.

Theo surrenders himself to armed militants to save the others' lives, so their trip takes them to a bordering country where they find hospice in a refugee camp. The first thirty minutes of the film is almost entirely subtitled and tells a harrowing story that feels too devastating to be fiction. That's because the film is based on the true story of these boys (and girl) and their journey to America, which doesn't happen until roughly ten years after their arrival in the camps. When they arrive in the United States, Abital gets separated and sent to Kansas City while the boys head to Boston, so they make it a mission to get her back. They are so hopelessly unfamiliar with everything that Americans have: they do not know what a running toilet is, they do not recognize why people throw away old food in the grocery store, and they do not understand formalities that Americans exchange when they don't mean something.

They are put under the supervision of Carrie Davis (Reese Witherspoon), a woman who helps people like Mamere and folk find jobs upon relocation. Carrie is an untidy, unhappy woman that has lost people close to her and doesn't connect herself with many around her, but there is something that strikes a spark in her about these boys. So she takes them under her wing and aims to guide them through their transition while giving them a sense of family that they lost a long time ago. The film casts itself in the aftermath of 9/11, allowing the story to comment on the struggle of travel and transportation at the time and the stagnation of the refugee program. While using that backdrop, it shows the different struggles each person faces upon their arrival: Paul is efficient at building things but falls into a web of drugs in his workplace; Mamere works at a grocery store but wants to get his sister and brother to Boston; and Jeremiah faces an issue of losing his ethnic identity in his workplace.

It's rare to see a studio film as politically charged and character driven as The Good Lie, which goes along with how refreshing and authentic everything within it feels. There's a sentimentality and kindness to its approach and the way it explores these Sudanese characters over any others; Witherspoon is an advertising piece that is good but not even close to the focal point of the story. The casting of actual Sudanese refugees makes the story feel lively and true to its nature. Philippe Falardeau's direction excels in delicacy and substance, even if there are very few moments that ring inauthentic; those few feel as if they are mocking the central characters and their obliviousness to the new world, but that might be the fish-out-of-water component. Mamere's story works wonders when, in its final moments, it explores the ways of American privilege and how it can be reversed and presented in a new, unforgettable way. The Good Lie skims the surface of the Sudanese refugees' hardships, but tells a good-natured, heartwarming story with compassion.

The Joe Show - Movie Review by Michael Clawson

The Joe Show  

Directed by Randy Murray

Rated NR

Run Time: 100 minutes

Genre: Documentary

Opens October 3rd

by Michael Clawson of Terminal Volume

The Joe Show begins with a moment so surreal, it’s simply hard to believe: Maricopa County Sheriff Joe Arpaio singing — quite badly — Frank Sinatra’s “My Way.” This is both a sad joke and an ironic truth about Arpaio’s iron grip on Arizona’s law enforcement.

Arpaio, who called himself “America’s toughest sheriff” so much that it actually came true, is the star of Randy Murray’s fascinatingly frank documentary about how Sheriff Joe, a name that has become shorthand for Arizona’s wacky politics, is the most hated/loved figure in the Southwest. His fans adore him, and his critics call him a cancerous void. He could care less what he is, as long as a news crew is there to film his reaction.

Murray’s film starts by pitching underhanded softballs right over the plate, and Arpaio clobbers them out of the park. Sheriff Joe does his Sinatra song, cooks pasta in his kitchen with his wife, and then as he shuffles around his downtown office, which has a locked closet lined with DVDs and VHS tapes of all his media appearances, which he hordes in his vault of drywall and fluorescent lighting. The beginning of the film is so non-threatening and mundane that it feels like more Arpaio fluff — part of the neverending Sheriff Joe PR machine. But then the knives come out, and The Joe Show eviscerates this bewildering Arizonan figure.

In an early scene, Arpaio parades prisoners around in pink underwear and handcuffs — Maricopa County’s fetish of choice — as way to drum up press for his new “tent city,” a canvas oasis where Arpaio sends low-level offenders for the benefit of the evening news and his own ego. Joe glows in front of the cameras as he bellows and bloviates to a group of time-robbed reporters and the bouquet of foamy microphones they’re offering as virgin sacrifice to that evening’s soundbite. And yes, that’s a handgun-shaped pin on his tie.

His humiliating treatment of prisoners provides a nice jumping-off point to many of his other political stunts: the foolhardy Obama birth certificate investigation, his harassment of the city of Guadalupe, bogus corruption charges against county officials, the arrest of New Times editors … the list never seems to end. Arpaio often speaks for himself, and is brutally honest about his intentions — there’s no such thing as bad press, except no press, or when someone spells Arpaio wrong. His gold-ol’-boy schtick is amended and tweaked by bobbleheaded PR juggernaut Lisa Allen, who seems like a lonely person. Without Joe will she just evaporate into oblivion?

In case it’s not clear, I’m not a fan of Sheriff Joe. I worked for a newspaper that was in his sights for many years. When we didn’t cover what he wanted, he retaliated by shutting the paper out of public events. Then press reports stopped coming. And then public records requests were ignored. Eventually the paper sued him, and won. He appealed, and we won that, too. For many years after, I would see Arpaio at media events and when he saw the logo on the press badge he would snarl and growl. Literally.

A lot of what Arpaio does is harmless cornball politics. Pink underwear and green bologna make for fun headlines, and for the most part the public just shrugs its shoulders. But The Joe Show doesn’t stop there. It pokes and prods deeper into the stuff that makes even Arpaio fans queasy: the violent deaths of inmates at his jails, including Scott Norberg, whose death was covered up amid disappearing evidence; racial profiling of basically anyone that wasn’t as pinkish white as Arpaio; his “culture of corruption,” from dopey henchmen like Paul Chagolla and Dave Hendershott all the way down to deputies and jail guards; and the failure to investigate more than 400 sex crimes. That last one should have lost him his last election, but even raped teens couldn’t stop the Arpaio media blitz.

The film features interviews from some of the most important figures in the Arpaio story — with lots of Arpaio himself and Allen, who does a wicked Jane Fonda impression — including one supporter who says she’s not a racist, but then says that “Mexicans haven’t evolved.” One of the interview highlights comes from interviewer Larry King, who states plainly, “Villains make good guests because they don’t think they’re villains.” The film presents both cases, pro-Arpaio and anti, but it’s hard not to question Arpaio’s police work when the film frames the sheriff as a media-hungry fame-monster who will do anything to be on TV. And that’s not necessarily a description he would disagree with. Although it skews against Arpaio, Joe Show will have its cheering section as its star casts himself as Arizona’s savior from Obama, Mexicans, criminals and “the media.”

Sheriff Joe will go down in Arizona history as an antiquated old fart who was tired of kids on his lawn and Mexicans in his grocery store, but his simplistic view of politics, government and police work will be his ultimate legacy. As much as Joe fancies himself a sheriff, a jailer and the county’s top cop, he’s little more than a movie star with a badge. And The Joe Show is his blockbuster.

The Joe Show - Movie Review by Eric Forthun

The Joe Show  

Directed by Randy Murray

Rated NR

Run Time: 100 minutes

Genre: Documentary

Opens October 3rd

By Eric Forthun of Cinematic Shadows

The Joe Show paints a glowingly American portrait of a self-made Arizona icon. Joe Arpaio is the most famous Sheriff in the country because he so uniquely crafts his own public image, whether that be through staged news stories or over-the-top, headline-worthy arrests. The man is divisive and split heavily across partisan lines, so it’s fitting that the conservative public figure (not politician, mind you, as Joe himself consistently points out) resides in a conservatively-minded place like Maricopa County, Arizona. He’s gained headlines over the years for countless, “shocking” actions, like forcing the inmates in Tent City to wear pink or creating the first (once again, self-proclaimed) female chain gang. Arpaio is a perfect example of a man that the media elevated to godly levels, so what more could a documentary on such a divine subject tell us?

Apparently a lot more, as Randy Murray’s documentary examines the inner workings and unavoidable corruption behind the sheriff and his county’s actions over the past twenty years while he’s been in power. Arpaio’s support over the years at the polls has slowly dwindled, but when he was in his prime he was a man with swagger and unrivaled conviction. Even his naysayers could not deny the confidence with which he has resided over the county, since he assumed a position that most other sheriffs would not take to heart as Arpaio did. He cracked down on drugs and fought for persecution of illegal immigrants, even if that meant violating certain rights under the jurisdiction of the law. One example showcases the county’s misuse of power in Mesa to scare a city leader that disagreed with Arpaio, while another centers on the war that escalated between his county and the Phoenix New Times.

That one in particular focuses on, what the film claims, the largest issued subpeona in American history, with millions of IP addresses being requested to further exemplify the county’s reach in power. Arpaio increasingly becomes belittled and persecuted as the documentary progresses, with the beginning setting up a calm before the attacking storm rains on Arpaio’s tent-filled parade. The film casts a light on his personal life and examines the titular man through a variety of lenses: as a family man, a politician, a media-hound, a lawbreaker, and a stick-to-his-guns leader. Arpaio has millions of supporters around the nation, ranging from a woman in Arizona who does the classic “I’m not a racist, but…[insert racist opinion]” to gun-toting Ted Nugent. For every person that seems to defend him, another chimes in to comment on his relentlessly aggressive police force that abuses power and commits racist actions.

The Joe Show grows into an indictment of the Arizona sheriff and should satisfy opponents of the man while leaving supporters a bit cold. The attempt at examining Arpaio through many lenses creates an uneven, far-reaching portrait of a highly complex man, one with a rich personal history and a fascinating political narrative. I fall on the side that doesn’t support Arpaio, mostly for the reasons that are emphasized in the film’s second half. The recklessness and abandonment of civil rights in multiple cases by the county sheriff’s office leads to a bad taste in many voters’ mouths. But Joe Arpaio is the man, the myth, and the legend: his image is on every television screen every week because he wants to communicate as emphatically as possible that he is the World’s Toughest Sheriff. Randy Murray’s documentary is invasive, biting, and ambitious, even if that amounts to an uneven but entertaining character study.

Left Behind - Movie Review by Eric Forthun

Left Behind  

Starring Nicolas Cage, Chad Michael Murray, Cassi Thomson, Nicky Whelan, Jordin Sparks, and Lea Thompson

Directed by Vic Armstrong

Rated PG-13

Run Time: 105 minutes

Genre: Action/Thriller

Opens October 3rd

By Eric Forthun of Cinematic Shadows

Left Behind is an absurdly moronic B-movie that confuses itself as a disaster film from the 1970s while wanting to be a serious moral tale of spirituality. The cast features a mish-mash of stars reaching at the opportunity for an easy check, ranging from Nicolas Cage and his ever-evolving hair line to Chad Michael Murray’s confused, “When can One Tree Hill return?” self. The story is the first directorial effort from Vic Armstrong, who can legitimately only be described as one of the greatest stunt workers to ever work in the business. He’s made things explode beautifully in a hefty amount of blockbusters over the last thirty years, including an undisclosed credit for the opening scene in Terminator 2: Judgment Day. The man deserves respect and, more importantly, he deserves a script with more competence and respect for its subject than this one. It’s a hilariously offensive bundle of ineptitude.

The story begins with Chloe Steele (Cassi Thomson), an atheist that grew up with a religious mother, Irene (Lea Thompson), and an absent, cheating pilot of a father, Rayford (Nicolas Cage). Chloe wanders through the airport one day to stop her father from flying away when they were supposed to spend time together as a family. Rayford wants to take an excursion in London with the sexy flight attendant Hattie (Nicky Whelan), a character that acts not only as the ditzy blonde but also as the helpless love interest with no ability to sustain herself. Chloe also runs into Buck Williams (Chad Michael Murray), a famous media person that might be an investigative journalist or a reporter on the news or someone important. I don’t know. All I know is that he has a book and a religious woman asks him some questions until Chloe interrupts by attacking her beliefs. So naturally Buck and Chloe bond by getting along in the airport and hopping to each other’s tables like a long-lost romantic couple.

So now that we are past the first fifteen minutes of the film (yes, all of that happens in such a brief amount of time), the story progresses to the flight happening and the Rapture ensuing, taking millions of people around the world off of the Earth and into Heaven. What becomes so grating about the film’s rushed exploration of the Rapture is how idiotic the remaining population becomes, particularly as the religious become prophets in memory while the non-religious become aggressively dumb and incompetent. The only way these ideas are communicated furthers the film’s growing annoyance: every character delivers a monologue in virtually every scene, with the only back-and-forth conversation happening in the film’s opening moments. There’s no sense of ebb-and-flow within the film as much as there is a scream point-scream other point dynamic. Cheap filmmaking really begins to hurt the quality of a film’s message, and Left Behind encapsulates that.

Nicolas Cage gives a committed performance considering that his character must move through asinine developments. He unravels monologues in the film’s middle act that oddly avoids the use of the word “Rapture,” almost as if the film wants to move away from its religious upbringings. And that’s another important reason the film doesn’t work, outside of its hilariously awful plot movement: it doesn’t embrace the Christian elements of its story and instead makes martyrs out of the religious and tells the story of the doubters. The characters aren’t given a semblance of development and the story intersperses characterizations including but not limited to: an old lady who clearly has dementia but draws laughs from her sickness, a little person that apparently deserves to be kicked down a slide (it needs to be seen because that ACTUALLY HAPPENS), a woman wielding a gun on an airplane thinking other people stole her child, and more. All of these glorious moments can be found in Left Behind, the funniest, most woefully inept drama of the year.

The Good Lie interview by Eric Forthun

By Eric Forthun of Cinematic Shadows  

The Good Lie tells the story of the “Lost Boys of Sudan,” a group of Sudanese refugees that escaped the civil war in their native country to begin again in America. They faced hardships adapting to their new lives, particularly when one of the boys is separated from his sister when she is sent to another American city.

In the aftermath of 9/11, the refugee system came to a standstill. But refugees like Emmanuel Jal and Ger Duany, two of the film’s stars, made it to America and became successful after dealing with harrowing, heartbreaking circumstances as children.

Ger Duany commented on some of the most shocking things he encountered when he first arrived in America, remarking on a scene in the film where a couple is making out in the airport while another man rides around on a motorized scooter. “I saw similar things, especially when I landed in New York City,” Duany said. He didn’t know people had the freedom to do such things. “People were all over and moving in a bunch of different directions. Where I come from, everyone moves in one direction and keeps going.”

The film’s producer, Molly Smith, understood the struggles they faced when they landed in the United States. “Given his age and height, they just put him [Duany] in ninth grade,” Smith remarked incredulously. “Based on his height and apparent age, even though he didn’t know any English.”

“I didn’t know anything the teacher was saying,” Duany added.

Emmanuel Jal furthered their story by telling of his first encounter with a toilet, something we take for granted. “This thing is probably connected to a river…what if a snake comes out? I would squat and look down in case I needed to grab the snake and kill it,” Jal joked. “And I was once given soap that smelled like pineapple, so I ate it thinking it was food.”

Jal grew up in Kenya and moved to Switzerland, learning about American culture from films like Rambo and television shows like Tom & Jerry. His perception of America was based on what he had seen in popular culture, even remembering how he had learned about angels and connected that with white people, whom he had never seen. “And then I realized that they are just like me.”

Smith recalled stumbling onto the film two and a half years ago and connected with its unique story. “Reese Witherspoon shows up 35 minutes into the film and it’s not even about her,” Smith said, “so I understand why the story scared people. But we fell in love with how beautiful it was and we were blown away…as long as you can find the right tonal balance, which was real, we could make something great.”

The director insisted that he would make the film with real Sudanese refugees, which took about six months through a worldwide casting search to find the right choices. “It was an uphill production, to say the least,” Smith asserted.

The film takes place on the backdrop of an extended civil war between north and south Sudan, which has been going on since at least 1947. “How can you condense the decades of civil war into a single script?” Duany asked. “That’s what shocked me…this is the focus of the movie, the little kids in a land with which they are unfamiliar.” He wants there to be a film made about Sudan that handles the turmoil the country has faced, but the story remains unique due to its emphasis on the children.

“Everyone should treat this film as an educational tool,” Duany added. “This is a story for everyone who walks with two feet on this earth.”

Jal continued that point, elaborating, “Some people may find their purpose. As human beings, we connect with each other, and every human being can empathize with pain. Every person, every color, especially women, can connect with a troubled child that can make a difference.”

One moment occurred in Nashville, Tennessee, when a 21-year old man was outside near Duany by himself. “He was a very intelligent guy who had different problems than mine. ‘Right now I only have $800 to my name and I have rent coming up, and I don’t know what I’m going to do for a job,’ the main said…so I shared my life story with him.” He doesn’t want people to feel sorry for him, but rather that they know his story.

Jal wants people to know that he is a war child and a lost boy. “I’m trying to summarize that it’s a long journey and you shouldn’t let hope go. Focus your energy on the positive path and you’ll see a window.”

Their positivity shines through the film, since the Sudanese refugees are the focal point of a narrative that traditional Hollywood filmmaking would make easily digestible and simplistic. But The Good Lie becomes more than that and provides a startling, confident look at the struggles these boys faced and the heartfelt nature of their performances allows the film to define itself.

The Good Lie opens nationwide on Friday, October 3rd.

Interview with Nicolas Cage and the rest of the team from Left Behind

by Eric Forthun of Cinematic Shadows   

Left Behind is another big-screen attempt at tackling the best-selling series of novels. This time, however, the story centering millions of people disappearing from Earth during the biblical Rapture aims to tell a character-driven tale for all audiences.

The film stars Nicolas Cage, Cassi Thomson, Nicky Whelan, Chad Michael Murray, and Jordin Sparks, and is the directorial debut of long-time stunt coordinator Vic Armstrong. I recently talked with the director and most of the central actors about some of their inspirations, the motivations behind the characters, and the re-emergence of religious film in cinema.

Armstrong said he loved his cast, following with: “You need a good crew to make a movie and I got Jack Green, one of the greatest cinematographers in the last few years (he was nominated for Unforgiven). I only see things big in film worlds and film visions, and I wanted to shoot this film in wide-screen. Wherever we put the camera down was a wonderful frame and we didn’t go in for all the crazy tight close-ups and things. We shot it to give the characters breathing space and we shot it with enough time for them to establish their characters and tell their stories.”

Cassi Thomson remembers a scene that utilized some stunning visuals, and remarked on the challenging nature of doing her own stunts. “I luckily got to do all of my own stunts on the film. At one point Vic had me climb this 400’ bridge, so I free-climbed to the top with a helicopter circling me with a camera and that was amazing. That’s something that I probably will never get to do again.”

Thomson plays the lead, Chloe Steele, a character that distances herself from faith and deals with the ramifications in a world now full of only non-believers. “Chloe doesn’t really have any kind of spiritual beliefs at all,” Thomson said. “Her family growing up didn’t have any faith, didn’t go to church…and then her mom (played by Lea Thompson) found her faith and it threw a wedge into the family that pushed Chloe away. Her mom and her belief in God were warning Chloe of what was coming.”

Thomson’s character remains on the ground for most of the film while other characters deal with the aftermath of the disappearances. The film largely jumps between the instances on the ground and the plane holding an eclectic batch of passengers.

One of them is Shasta, played by Jordin Sparks. “Shasta is a mother and her backstory involves her attempting to take her daughter to a safer place,” Sparks commented. “She’s trying to take her away from what’s going on with her ex-husband, so she’s just very weary of everybody on the plane. She thinks everything is a conspiracy, that everyone’s out to get her, so when she wakes up after taking a nap and her daughter’s gone, it’s upsetting. And it was really interesting for me because I’ve never played a mother before.”

Many of the characters on the plane must develop themselves in such a confined space, leading to some interesting manifestations. Nicky Whelan plays flight attendant Hattie, a promiscuous woman introduced in the first scene having a fling with pilot Ray (played by Nicolas Cage). “It’s a character-driven script as well as [an] action-packed [one],” Whelan remarked. “I think Hattie seems to be at the beginning a very basic character that’s immersed in the world of an air hostess. She loves her job, she dresses up for work…it’s a whole production. And I think the beautiful thing about this character is you want to hate her since she’s going against all of the rules. It’s clearly obvious why she doesn’t get taken in the Rapture.”

Whelan elaborated on the developments her character gets as the film progresses, delving into some specifics best left for the viewing experience of the film. There are plenty of surprises as the film goes along, particularly when the other characters realize the extent of what has happened and how it has drastically affected their world.

Nicolas Cage plays the captain, a man who has been unfaithful to his family and must learn to better himself as a man after making so many life-altering decision. “I think that that’s what I want, for people to realize that we all make mistakes but in a moment of crisis what we really want and go back to is our love for our families. That’s what pulled me into this project.”

Cage also commented on the difficulty of making such an ensemble-driven, narratively realistic story. “How you make such an extraordinary set of circumstances authentic and how you make that real was a tremendous challenge,” he said. “We had to play it almost cinéma vérité, in that this is really happening, we’re believing in this situation, and we need to convey that to the audience. I’ve always been attracted to movies that aren’t afraid to venture into the unknown.”

The cast and crew are passionate about their film and believe that it is an important story to tell, particularly as other shows and films in popular culture embrace religious ideas. Heaven is for Real, God’s Not Dead, and The Leftovers are just a few that have explored similar themes and elements, but Left Behind hopes to appeal to believers and non-believers alike.

Left Behind opens nationwide on Friday, October 3rd.