Category Archives: Reviews

Film Reviews

Review: ‘Scatter My Ashes at Bergdorf’s’ Encourages Aspirational Shoppers Everywhere

'Scatter My Ashes at Bergdorf's'

‘Scatter My Ashes at Bergdorf’s’

If you shop regularly at Neiman-Marcus, or if that’s your aspirational dream, have I got a movie for you!

Actually, calling Scatter My Ashes at Bergdorf’s a “movie” would be misleading, much less labeling it a “documentary.” The title is inspired by a cartoon by Victoria Roberts that appeared in a 1990 issue of The New Yorker, and suggests the reverence felt by grateful designers, satisfied customers, and happy employees toward the luxury department store, considered a Manhattan institution as much for its landmark Fifth Avenue building (next to the Plaza Hotel and near the southeastern edge of Central Park) and intricately-designed window displays as for its high-fashion clothing and rarefied clientele. (The store was sold to Neiman-Marcus in 1972, but operates independently.)

A parade of designers line up to pay obeisance to the store; over and over they relate how the store “made” their careers, lining their pockets with gold and certifying them as having reached the pinnacle of the fashion world. A few brave souls — “Not at Bergdorf’s,” as titles helpfully explain — also appear, expressing their hope that one day they, too, will be considered worthy of a place in the store. Until then, darn it, they will soldier on in relative obscurity.

Perhaps writer /director Michael Miele was not able to find any designers who were willing to speak on camera in a critical manner about the store, nor any industry experts, journalists, historians, customers, or even former sales people. Whatever the reasons or intent, pretty much everything about the store is presented in a highly positive, advertorial manner.

victoria-roberts-ashes-scattered-250.jpgStill, even a puff piece needs compelling narrative storytelling and/or an abundance of fascinating anecdotes to justify a running time of 93 minutes. The only structure, of a kind, is provided by the five window displays designed by a longtime employee, praised for his taste and artistic vision. We don’t get any particular insight from him, or context as to his background and influences (other than “everything”); we just follow him as he shops for items and visits the artists whose work will be incorporated into the windows.

Otherwise, it’s a rambling assemblage, occasionally tossing in snippets from a historical timeline of the store and business, but mostly relying upon fawning interview footage in which the subjects are interchangeably appreciative of the opportunities that have been afforded them. Of the anecdotal material related by employees, it’s similarly respectful and dry, save for a longtime ace personal shopper, a woman who displays a saucy attitude but is wary of being too specific to an interviewer about anything she’s ever done or said.

Bergdorf’s personifies the adage, ‘If you have to ask how much it costs, you can’t afford it,’ and so everyone is reticent about discussing specific figures in the luxury business. (We do learn, however, that some sales people, or “personal shoppers,” can earn $500,000 to $1 million annually, which prompts one satisfied customer to consider changing professions, jokingly.)

Those who can afford high-priced luxury goods — shoes that cost thousands of dollars and the like — and those who benefit financially from the wealthy customers make no apologies, instead glorifying the materialistic lifestyle. One person goes so far as to claim that Bergdorf’s is “necessary,” indicating that it’s needed so that young people will be inspired to be “aspirational,” by which it’s strongly suggested that the only way people are motivated is by holding out luxury items as carrots for them to chase after.

Hey, if you’ve got the money, it’s your choice how you spend it, but the glossy justifications quickly become wearisome for those of us who have never dreamed that happiness can be bought in a department store.

Without much context provided, Scatter My Ashes at Bergdorf’s is akin to a very large issue of a fashion magazine. Fashion devotees will linger over every image; everyone else will rifle through it and then toss it aside without a second thought.

Review originally published in slight different at Twitch. Scatter My Ashes at Bergdorf’s opens on Friday, May 17 at Angelika Film Center – Dallas. Visit the official Facebook page for more information.

About these ads

Review: ‘Star Trek Into Darkness’ Riffs, Rocks, and Rolls

'Star Trek Into Darkness' (Paramount)

‘Star Trek Into Darkness’ (Paramount)

Riffing madly on well-explored themes, Star Trek Into Darkness sounds like a symphony composed within a single octave, producing a powerful, melodious, and sometimes glorious piece of entertainment, blockbuster-style.

After the success of 2009′s Star Trek, which successfully rebooted the franchise, director J.J. Abrams and writers Robert Orci and Alex Kurtzman, joined by producer Damon Lindelof on the screenplay, faced a formidable challenge with the sequel. They’ve elected to pack their second installment with as much whirling chaos and action as possible, interspersed with charged dramatic moments and the type of character banter that provides welcome relief from the relentless pace. And, in a seeming bow to the social topicality espoused by series creator Gene Roddenberry, they’ve knitted political commentary into the fabric of their little space opera.

The in medias res opening sequence reveals Captain James T. Kirk (Chris Pine) and Dr. Bones McCoy (Karl Urban) being pursued through an alien forest by apparently hostile native peoples. Quickly, Commander Spock (Zachary Quinto) descends into danger from the Starship Enterprise, leaving behind his girlfriend, Lt. Uhura (Zoe Saldana) to worry, and other key members of the crew — Sulu (John Cho), Chekhov (Anton Yelchin), and Scotty (Simon Pegg) — to fret.

After that breathless introduction, the crew returns to Earth to get sorted out. They end up on a mission targeting a mysterious figure (Benedict Cumberbatch) who is threatening the United Federation of Planets, led by the iron-willed Admiral Marcus (Peter Weller). Many twists and turns await, both for the characters and the story.

Chris Pine impresses with his striking performance. This time out, the role calls for a greater range of emotions, and Pine shoulders his heavy-duty dramatic responsibilities with aplomb. Among the other Enterprise crew members, John Cho stands out; he, too, has been given weightier material to deliver, and he is suitably commanding. Quinto and Saldana measure up to their previous standards of excellence, while Urban, Yelchin, and Pegg are used, more or less, as various degrees of comic relief in support of the lead players.

Benedict Cumberbatch, who has already demonstrated a confident ability to sway from one personality trait to another, equally at home with comedy, drama, action, and tragedy, makes for a fierce antagonist, and is absolutely riveting to watch. Likewise, Peter Weller commands the screen whenever he appears, as do Bruce Greenwood, returning as Admiral Pike, and Alice Eve, as a new member of the crew.

My only reservations have to do with how things are resolved, which knocks the whole thing down a notch, but overall Star Trek Into Darkness is a very strong, mostly cohesive vehicle that travels very far and very fast into the heart of its characters.

Notes on Viewing: Screened at AMC NorthPark, auditorium #9, in 3D. Abrams consiously heightens the 3D effects, often playing with depth of field to enhance the dimensionality. It’s marvelous to behold; this is one of the rare films I’d recommend as worth the upgrade cost to 3D.

Star Trek Into Darkness is now playing widely at theaters across the Metroplex.

Review: ‘The Iceman’ Freezes Out the Murderous Truth

Michael Shannon and Ray Liotta in 'The Iceman' (Millenium Entertainment)

Michael Shannon and Ray Liotta in ‘The Iceman’ (Millenium Entertainment)

Ostensibly based on the true story of Mafia hitman Richard Kuklinski, The Iceman faces a couple of major obstacles right out of the gate:

1. Kuklinski’s veracity has been questioned; and

2. The movie feels like it’s missing its first act.

To tackle the second problem first, Richard (Michael Shannon) is introduced with a huge bushy beard, mumbling something that’s almost incoherent, and is then shown on a shy, sweet-talking date with Deborah (Winona Ryder) in the early 1960s. That’s contrasted with a scene where Richard slits the throat of someone who has angered him over an inconsequential matter. The sequence immediately sets up the diametrically-opposed extremes of Richard’s personality: loving and sensitive vs. savage and murderous.

Therein lies the kernel of a classic conflict that could have been the wellspring of a great movie.

Instead, scenarist Morgan Land and director Ariel Vromen, who previously colloborated on 2005′s Rx, focus on the more superficial elements of Kuklinski’s story. That’s what they did with Rx, as well: conjure up splashy, flashy moments of stylish, tough-guy behavior, and string them together with a narrative through line that ensures the multitude of episodes will not add up to any more than the sum of their parts.

Like fireworks, those dramatic components can be thoroughly engaging, for as long as they (briefly) last. Michael Shannon is a powerful performer, he’s scary and threatening whenever Richard’s fury grows hot, dead-eyed and menacing when he’s murdering or maiming, and kind and warm, if a bit distant, whenever he’s interacting with his family. (He marries Deborah and they have two daughters together, who are mostly shown in their teens when the action shifts to the mid-1970s.) But mostly he’s a very convincing serial killer.

That latter point ties back in to the first obstacle mentioned at the outset. Granted, it’s entirely possible that I would have accepted Kuklinski’s account at face value, were it not for the coincidence that I recently read Murder Machine, a scrupulously-researched and meticulously-detailed book by journalists Gene Mustain and Jerry Capeci about the Roy DeMeo gang. The Brooklyn criminals were known to be ruthless and capricious, and suspected of killing more than 100 people (conservatively) and possibly hundreds; most of the bodies were disposed of in some way, making a final body count impossible.

Mean Machine and The Iceman intersect when, in the film, Richard meets Roy (Ray Liotta), who is impressed by Richard and recruits him as a killer. Now, nowhere in Mean Machine is Kuklinski mentioned, which could have been an omission by the authors. Or, it could mean that Kuklinski, in the book based on his life story, was not telling the truth. A number of other incidents that are dramatized in the movie do not agree with what is reported in Mean Machine, either. (A little research revealed more questions raised about Kuklinski’s confessions, which gained notoriety from interviews he gave that were broadcast on television.)

Michael Shannon in 'The Iceman' (Millenium Entertainment)

Michael Shannon in ‘The Iceman’ (Millenium Entertainment)

Of course, fictional films inspired by real-life events are not obligated to hew closely to established evidence. What matters in a movie is whether it has the ring of truth: Does this feel like it could have happened?

By that standard, The Iceman fails. It feels like a self-serving version of events staged to make Richard Kuklinski look like the most fearsome Mafia contract killer in history. And it’s a wasted opportunity, because he was, from all evidence, a monstrous murderer, probably a serial killer in truth, which would have made a much more compelling, repulsive picture.

But he’s rendered here as a mythological creature, born fully-formed as a violent psychotic, whose break from reality happens off-screen, as does any hope of a piercing, penetrating examination of an ice-cold killer.

As noted, though, Shannon is mesmerizing, and Ryder and Liotta both turn in very good performances that are complemented by a strong supporting cast that includes Chris Evans, Robert Davi. and David Schwimmer, as well as cameos by James Franco and Stephen Dorff.

The Iceman opens in limited release in Metroplex theaters on Friday, May 17.

Review: ‘The Great Gatsby’ Delivers a Scintillating Experience

Leonard DiCaprio and Carey Mulligan in Baz Luhrmann's 'The Great Gatsby'

Leonard DiCaprio and Carey Mulligan in Baz Luhrmann’s ‘The Great Gatsby’

Baz Luhrmann never met an exclamation point he didn’t love!

The Great Gatsby, his scintillating version of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel, may be garish and boorish and brutish and extravagant — and it is all of those things and more — yet it is never insincere; it never puts on airs and pretends to be something that it is not.

Based on Romeo + Juliet (1996), Moulin Rouge! (2001), and Australia (2008), it would have been shocking only if The Great Gatsby did not splurge on excessive style. The setting of Fitzgerald’s novel — the Roaring Twenties, specifically the summer of 1922 in Long Island and Manhattan — appears to be a perfect fit for Luhrmann’s artistic sensibilities, which cry out for opportunities to display exquisite beauty and to showcase an exuberant color palette.

Luhrmann’s partner in crime, producer and production designer Catherine Martin, is fully his equal, overseeing and directing the creation of magnificent sets, sparkling costumes, and luxurious wardrobes. Simon Duggan, a first time colloborator as director of photography, certainly complements Luhrmann’s taste for glossy, gorgeous imagery.

Having these points in mind, then, Baz Luhrmann’s The Great Gatsby fully meets expectations. It’s exactly the kind of movie that I anticipated Luhrmann would make from the source material. It’s never less than an eyeful and a half, but it’s also never more than a designer outfit on a mannequin.

Fidelity to Fitzgerald’s novel is never an issue, though the screenplay by Luhrmann and usual colloborator Craig Pearce adds an unnecessary framing device to further distance the viewer from the emotional experience at hand. The movie hews closely enough to the original narrative turns to be considered faithful. The spirit, however, is quite different.

That’s to be expected, of course, considering that the book was first published in 1925; it was a commentary on a decade that was still evolving as Fitzgerald wrote. I haven’t seen the 1949 version, featuring Alan Ladd as Gatsby, but I recently watched the 1974 version, directed by Jack Clayton, which starred a miscast Robert Redford as Gatsby, Mia Farrow as Daisy, Bruce Dern as Tom, Sam Waterston as Nick, Lois Chiles as Jordan, Karen Black as Myrtle, Scott Wilson as George, and Howard Da Silva as Meyer. It’s a stodgy, conversative picture, very proper and absolutely beautiful in its own way, but the cast members often appear to be acting in different pictures. Redford’s reserve prevents any hint of vulnerability to shine though, and he generates no chemistry with Farrow.

Luhrmann fares better with his cast. Leonardo DiCaprio trips gaily over a wide range of emotions as Gatsby, conveying the anguish of romantic idealism. Carey Mulligan emotes a tearfu, fragile personality as Daisy, Joel Edgerton is very strong as the brutish Tom, and Tobey Maguire is a convincingly passive observer with occasional flashes of anger. Oddly enough, the characters played by Elizabeth Debicki (Jordan), Isla Fisher (Myrtle), Jason Clarke (George), and Amitabh Bachchan (Meyer) are shunted aside more so than in the book or the 1974 film version, so there are fewer moments for those actors to make much more than positive, if fleeting, impressions.

Anachronisms abound on the soundtrack, but it’s not wall-to-wall with modern music; there’s still space for Craig Armstrong’s original compositions and other music that captures the spirit of the times.

What, then, is the problem? Well, it’s inherent in Luhrmann’s approach to the material. The film is both too literal and too phantasmagorical to be taken seriously and/or accepted at face value. On the one hand, the aggressive, “filmic” moments that constantly call attention to themselves are quite effective; it’s easy to become entranced by the fantastic visual touches that distinguish Luhrmann’s vision.

On the other hand, the film also insists on talking and explaining and repeating and making explicit the same points that are being made visually. I imagine this is great for anyone who is blind and/or deaf, but for everyone else, it’s like watching a captivating movie in your native language with closed captioning turned on while listening to someone provide an audio commentary on what you’re watching. It overloads the senses and limits the effectiveness of the entire experience.

Those contradictions also place it squarely within the filmmaker’s apparent artistic ambitions. On those terms, the movie delivers exactly what is expected of it.

Note: The film was post-converted to 3D, which adds little to the experience except a surcharge on the price of a ticket.

The Great Gatsby opens wide across the Metroplex on Friday, May 10.

Review: ‘Mud’ Presents a Clear-Eyed View of Modern American Life

Matthew McConaughey, Tye Sheridan, and Jacob Lofland in Jeff Nichols' 'Mud'

Matthew McConaughey, Tye Sheridan, and Jacob Lofland in Jeff Nichols’ ‘Mud’

Jeff Nichols is fully in tune with nature and how people relate to it, reminiscent of certain Australian filmmakers in the 1970s. The feature films he has made so far are pure pieces of modern Americana, though, reflecting a sensibility that is fiercely independent, no matter the varied landscapes that seep into the characters who inhabit them.

By “Americana,” I mean a dictionary definition of the word: “Things associated with the culture and history of America, esp. the United States.” Mud, Nichols’ latest film, in no way trumpets American culture as superior to any other; it is, however, firmly rooted in the time and place of its very particular setting, namely, rural Arkansas in the Southern United States.

The story revolves around two teenage boys who are edging into adulthood but aren’t there quite yet. Ellis (Tye Sheridan) and Neckbone (Jacob Lofland) are filled with the energy of youth and the brash curiosity of adolescence. They freely and fearlessly explore the fecund woods that surround their rural community, including the muddy banks of the Mississippi River. One day they see a boat resting in the branches of a tree, far off the ground. An adult might ponder the fragility of life — surely the boat’s owners were victims of a flood — but the boys view it as a cool, potential clubhouse, and vow to make it their own.

Upon returning, Ellis and Neckbone learn that someone else has claimed the boat. He’s tall and lean and mysterious, and exudes an air of restrained menace; he’s the kind of man who might turn on you quick as look at you. The boys do not shy away, revealing a confidence in their ability to take care of themselves.

Their instincts are (basically) correct. The man, who calls himself Mud (Matthew McConaughey), provides a reasonable explanation for why he’s taken possession of the boat — he’s in trouble with the law and waiting to meet up with long-time love Juniper (Reese Witherspoon) — and enlists the boys to help him with a plan he sketches out.

It’s good timing for Ellis and Neckbone; their home lives are far from idyllic. Ellis has learned that his parents (the always terrific Ray McKinnon and reliable Sarah Paulson) are splitting up, and his mom wants to move out of their ram-shackle riverboat home and into town. Neckbone lives with his uncle Galen (Michael Shannon), who has some unusual ideas about raising children. So they agree to help Mud, as much out of boredom and curiosity as anything else, and the consequences of their decision quickly spread outward, like a rock skipped across a river.

The story plays out largely through the eyes and ears of Ellis, who is in his early teen years, and is still figuring out who, or what, he wants to be. Does he want to be like his harsh-tongued and often frustrated father? Or his mother, who is seeking more security and a more traditional home life? Or Galen, who is very much his own, angry man? Or the crusty old man who lives across the river, Tom (Sam Shepherd), who lives an extremely solitary life? Or Mud, who makes being penniless and wanted by the law somehow look dangerously attractive?

Mud is not a conventional coming-of-age tale, in which an angel and a devil fight for the soul of a young person who must choose good or evil. Nor does it extol the idea of leaving home for the romance of the open road, or advocate moving to the city as the only smart decision for rural youth. Instead, it depicts people who have taken a variety of paths to adulthood. Some have achieved success and enjoy a measure of satisfaction with their lot in life, while others are still searching for the happiness that eludes them.

Nichols carves his characters from reality. As but one example, Mud has visions, but they don’t have the profound depth of those experienced by, say, Michael Shannon’s character in Take Shelter, Nichols’ previous film. Mud’s visions are both more mundance and more pitiable, because he’s been chasing the fulfillment of them for so many years without quite getting there.

Like the Mississippi River, emotions and events in Mud rise and fall. Sometimes they come in a rush, but more often they ebb and flow gently. so the temperament of the film doesn’t reach the apocalyptic heights expressed in Take Shelter. Still, the range of personalities expressed by the characters leaves open the possibility that someone might be left stranded, like the boat in the woods.

Tye Sheridan, who played the younger brother in Terence Malick’s The Tree of Life, embodies Ellis with surprising strength and quiet confidence; sometimes it’s stretched thin over a valley of fragile nerves, but he rarely strikes a false note. Jacob Lofland is also quite good as his running buddy Neckbone, who appears to have fewer possibilities in life than Ellis, but never holds that against his childhood friend.

Matthew McConaughey continues his recent string of superior performances, giving Mud a tasty edge that connects most of the dots while allowing the rest to be filled in later. It’s a supporting role, but it’s substantial, and he doesn’t overplay his hand. Ray McKinnon, Michael Shannon, and Sam Shepherd all deliver exquisitely good work, as do Sarah Paulson and Joe Don Baker. Reese Witherspoon erases her star persona to play the faded lover.

Key members of the crew, such as cinematographer Adam Stone, editor Julie Monroe, and production designer Richard A. Wright, contribute excellent work, while David Wingo’s musical score is evocative and powerful.

Like its lead character Ellis, Mud is modest, surprisingly strong, and quietly confident as it unfolds, venturing far into territories that are rarely visited in American cinema.

(Review originally published at Twitch.) 

Mud opens in limited release across the Metroplex on Friday, April 26.

Review: ‘Pain And Gain’ Warns Against the Abuse of Drugs and Too Much Style

Mark Wahlberg and Dwayne Johnson in Michael Bay's 'Pain & Gain'

Mark Wahlberg and Dwayne Johnson in Michael Bay’s ‘Pain & Gain’

Michael Bay takes a daring, creative approach to Pain & Gain, a story based on real life: he makes it look as unreal as possible.

Not that he’s doing much of anything that’s different from what he’s done with his previous nine films. He applies his distinctive, pumped-up style — constantly roving cameras, unusual angles, staccato editing, saturated colors, disharmonious performances — with great verve, if little variety and a off-kilter rhythm. Occasionally, it meshes well with the look and sound of Miami, Florida, where Pain & Gain is set, but that almost seems to be accidental, as though Bay kept swinging a baseball bat every five seconds, no matter if a pitch were thrown or not.

Still, Pain & Gain is a step away from what has become ordinary for Bay, and closer to his first feature, 1995’s Bad Boys. That too was made on a relatively modest budget, featured two men who played by their own set of rules, and was set in the Miami criminal world. Whereas Martin Lawrence and Will Smith were cops, however, Mark Wahlberg and Dwayne Johnson are criminally-inclined bodybuilders. (Note, however, that the new film is based on events that took place in late 1994 and early 1995, i.e. the same time period as Bad Boys.)

Daniel Lugo (Wahlberg) works as a personal trainer at a gym he has made successful for owner John Mese (Rob Corddry). But Daniel wants more: he wants the American Dream, which to him translates into gaining as much wealth as possible while doing as little work as possible. He becomes convinced that personal success guru Johnny Wu (Ken Jeong) has the right idea, and somehow translates Wu’s platitudes into a scheme to kidnap Victor Kershaw (Tony Shaloub), a new client, and soak the rich bastard dry.

To accomplish that, he first enlists the help of his fellow personal trainer Adrian Doorbal (Anthony Mackie) and then drafts newly-paroled bodybuilder Paul Doyle (Johnson) onto his team. Their scheme is wild and reckless and stupid; after kidnapping Kershaw, they discover that he’s unwilling to cooperate by signing over everything he owns to them, so they begin torturing him in the abandoned warehouse where he’s been stashed.

“Stupid” is the operative word here. The three bodybuilders are so dim that it’s a wonder they can tie their own shoelaces. Beyond their lack of intelligence, their core personalities are despicably self-centered and avaricious. Kershaw, as more than one character observes, is so unpleasant and temperamental that it’s difficult to pity his horrid situation.

To compensate, the film offers … not much more than a weak sense of humor and a strong sense of style.

The only vaguely moral character, a retired private detective and former cop (Ed Harris), arrives far too late to offer much ballast. The idea that “truth is stranger than fiction” is pounded into the ground. The attempts to puncture Daniel Lugo’s version of the American dream ring hollow. Even the personal success strategies sold by Johnny Wu fall flat as either satire or commentary.

Really, Pain & Gain plays best as the most stylish and overblown cautionary tale about substance abuse in movie history. The bodybuilders’ abuse of steroids and other drugs is depicted early and often, and so perhaps that can serve as a warning sign.

Pain & Gain opens wide across the Metroplex on Friday, April 26.

Review: Tom Cruise Can’t Lift ‘Oblivion’ Into Orbit

Tom Cruise and Olga Kurylenko in Joseph Kosinski's 'Oblivion' (Universal Pictures)

Tom Cruise and Olga Kurylenko in Joseph Kosinski’s ‘Oblivion’ (Universal Pictures)

Joseph Kosinski and an army of talented technicians have buffed and polished Oblivion to a high-gloss sheen. The film looks and sounds spectacular in true, giant-sized IMAX, as at the Cinemark 17 IMAX Theatre, and is briskly paced so as to allow little time for dawdling. And the lead performance by Tom Cruise bolsters the visuals with gut-level sincerity.

Indeed, Oblivion takes off with much sound and fury, establishing a future in which the Earth repelled an alien invasion, thus “winning” the war, but losing because the planet was irredeemably damaged. Most of surviving mankind has been successfully transplanted over the past 50 years to a distant moon, where water is badly needed. Thus, special machines have been installed, sucking up the oceans for transfer to mankind’s new home. Automated and fully weaponized drones guard the machines from Scavengers, as the remants of the alien invasion force are known. Sometimes the drones need repairs and maintenance, requiring a skeleton crew of drone repairmen to do mop-up duty on Earth.

Jack (Tom Cruise) is one of the repairmen, teamed with Victoria (Andrea Riseborough). They are stationed at a mile-high sky tower; Jack heads off every day to make his rounds in a bubble ship — a cross between a helicopter and a jet fighter — while Victoria remains behind at the sky tower, manning a bank of computers and displays to keep him apprised of any potential dangers, and maintain communication with Sally (Melissa Leo), their supervisor at the space station that overseas the final operations before Earth is permanently abandoned.

With only two weeks left on their assignment, Jack and Victoria are eager to finish up their service and join the rest of mankind, but Jack is plagued by dreams of a distant Earth, before the alien invasion, recurring dreams in which a lovely young woman plays a starring role. One day a spacecraft crashes to Earth, bringing the drones to destroy it, but Jack arrives just in time to realize that humans were in the spacecraft and to rescue one survivor, who looks very much like the lovely young woman in his dreams.

Soon enough, the young woman, Julia (Olga Kurylenko), reveals her true identity to Jack, a shock to his system that is compounded by a meeting with a mysterious “Scavenger” known as Beech (Morgan Freeman). Jack must wrestle with issues of love, romance, identity, and the fate of mankind, and quickly! Because time is running out.

Taking place in a desolate, post-apocalyptic Earth where, nonetheless, many iconic buildings appear, Oblivion presents a sun-bleached future, one that is perhaps explained by the aliens’ destruction of the Moon, but which doesn’t begin to comment on the design of the super-cool weapons, ships, and sky towers. Powered by a rumbling musical score by M83, Oblivion races through sequences with a facile agility, anchored by Cruise’s rock-solid foundation.

While the set-up is sufficiently engaging, perplexing questions start to accumulate quickly as to character motivations, delineations, and narrative destinations. The questions venture too far into spoiler territory for discussion in a review of this sort, but they are pushed aside and then never resolved. This means that the film as a whole is disappointing because Kosinski and multiple screenwriters (of whom only Karl Gajdusek and Michael DeBruyn receive credit for the screenplay, with Kosinski credited for original story) do not bring anything particularly new or startling to the familiar ingredients that they have borrowed from many other science-fiction books and movies.

To mention one aspect that is not a spoiler, Jack goes “off communications” to visit a hidden valley that is a verdant paradise, where he has plenty of water — a commodity we’re led to believe is in short supply on the Earth because it’s being siphoned off to replenish makind on that distant moon — and has built a cabin, filled with mementos that he has salvaged from the ruins of the planet. No explanation is given as to how he has created this water-filled paradise, nor are we informed how he manages to keep it from being detected by the all-knowing drone ships and their networked information from the orbiting space station. It exists as a rather obvious plot device, outside of common sense and reason.

Beyond Cruise, the other members of the cast, which includes Nikolaj Coster-Waldau and Zoe Bell, are given only a small range in which to play, which they handle ably. Claudio Miranda, who just won an Academy Award for Best Cinematography for Ang Lee’s Life of Pi, brings a similar bright look to the film, which has a relatively small amount of green-screen work. Kosinski and Miranda previously made Tron: Legacy together, which was a similar visual treat.

In only his outing as a feature film director, Joseph Kosinski proves that is more than capable as a world-builder. But he has yet to demonstrate a commensurate vision as far as his characters or stories are concerned. Oblivion is fine as far as it goes, but it doesn’t go as far as it thinks it does.

Oblivion opens April 19, wide across the Metroplex. The only giant-sized, true IMAX location where it is playing is at the Cinemark 17 in Dallas.

Review: ‘Side Effects’ Sends Chills Down the Spine

Rooney Mara in Steven Soderbergh's 'Side Effects' (Open Road Films)
Rooney Mara in Steven Soderbergh's 'Side Effects' (Open Road Films)

Rooney Mara in Steven Soderbergh’s ‘Side Effects’ (Open Road Films)

Absolutely absorbing and diabolically clever, Side Effects serves as a fitting theatrical swan song for Steven Soderbergh, who has announced his retirement from directing feature films.

Soderbergh has developed a wonderful mastery of visual storytelling, consistently experimenting with the boundaries of commercial cinema so as to deliver distinctive films that tease any limited definitions of “mainstream” vs. “arthouse” works. Within his films, there is often a battle between the warmth of the colors and the coolness of the characters; sometimes that’s flipped, so that the colors cool off and the characters heat up.

His distinctive approach is entirely appropriate for Side Effects. Rooney Mara (The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo) empathetically emobodies the troubled Emily, a 28-year-old woman who is suffering from depression. After a brief, ominous prologue, the story begins with the release from prison of Emily’s husband Martin (Channing Tatum), who served four years behind bars for insider trading.

Martin is properly remorseful, yet determined to quickly regain the comfortable, prosperous lifestyle that he and Emily previously enjoyed. During his prison term, Emily moved to Manhattan and got a low-level job in an advertising agency, where her boss is sympathetic to her troubles. Still, Martin’s return does not cure Emily of her sadness, and an apparent suicide attempt brings her in contact with Dr. Jonathan Banks (Jude Law), a kind, sympathetic doctor.

Dr. Banks consults with Emily’s previous doctor, Dr. Victoria Siebert (Catherine Zeta-Jones), who treated Emily when she lived in Connecticut. Then Dr. Banks prescribes a series of drugs for Emily, none of which are effective. Finally, he presents her with the opportunity to try Ablixa, a drug available only on a trial basis to qualified patients.

Now, the complicating factor there is that Dr. Banks has accepted a healthy consultant’s fee from the pharmaceutical company that manufactures the drug. There’s nothing illegal about what he does; he discloses his financial interest to Emily aforehand, and the choice is hers. But, but, but … the drug is available without cost to Emily and is recommended by her trusted physician. What choice does she really have?

Up to this point, Side Effects has developed an uncomfortable degree of tension. It’s as though everyone is holding their breath, waiting for something bad to happen. That’s accomplished by the complex structure of the original screenplay by Scott Z. Burns (Contagion), Soderbergh’s direction and photography (under the pseudonym Peter Andrews), the pinpoint-strong editing, and Thomas Newman’s discordant music score.

Add to that the layered performances by Mara, Law, and Tatum, and the story feels like the tragic tale of good characters who are caught up in a very bad situation. There are no villains; instead, the movie feels like a good-faith effort to depict a mental affliction that affects a great many people across all social classes and ages.

And then, something happens, and then something else happens, and we have a very different movie altogether.

Mind, it’s still a vastly entertaining movie, one that seeks to tear up the carpet and expose the underpinnings of similar dramatic thrillers, as if to boldly proclaim, ‘No, this is how to tell this kind of story.’ And, of course, it highlights Soderbergh’s delight in tearing apart something built with solid genre construction and remaking it in his own, cool, intelligent, post-modern image.

In the end, it’s all a bit ridiculous, but by the point that “something else happens,” I was so caught up in the film’s narrative rhythms that I was happy to follow wherever Soderbergh and his collaborators wanted to take me. Side Effects deserves to be treasured, analyzed, and appreciated as a rare, fresh take on “mainstream” cinema.

Side Effects opens wide across the Metroplex today.

Review: ‘Quartet’ Showcases the Quiet Elegance of Performance

Dustin Hoffman's 'Quartet'
Dustin Hoffman's 'Quartet'

Dustin Hoffman’s ‘Quartet’

Dustin Hoffman has tried his hand at directing in the past — he began work on the superior 70s drama Straight Time before calling in his friend Ulu Grosbard to take over — but Quartet represents his debut, at the tender age of 75. And it’s a splendid directorial debut, showcasing the quiet elegance of performances, of both the thespian and musical kind.

Adapted by the venerable Ronald Sherwood from his own play, Quartet takes place in and around a resplendent retirement home for musicians in England. Life is charming and quirky, with all unpleasantries kept off-screen, save for the occasional dramatic fall, rush of an ambulance, or memorial service for a friend. The peace and quiet is disrupted by the arrival of Jean Horton (Maggie Smith), a legendary singer who is not a happy camper about her new surroundings.

It turns out that Jean’s old beau Reginald (Tom Courtenay), a longtime resident, was not informed about Jean’s impending arrival, and still harbors tremendous resentment toward her for the breakup of their marriage. Jean, Reginald, Wilf (Billy Connelly), and Cissy (Pauline Collins) are former singers who were members of a quartet that performed a very memorable Verdi opera. The retirement home’s annual show is approaching, and in order to meet expenses, it seems that a reunion of the quartet is essential. But Jean doesn’t want to sing, Reginald doesn’t want to talk about it, and Cissy is dealing with the onset of Alzheimer’s Disease. And Wilf is around to make all the jokes.

Hoffman chose wisely. He proves himself an excellent director of screen comedy, and, working with film editor Barney Pilling, demonstrates a fine sense of comic timing, allowing space for the witty banter to flourish. The cast is filled with veteran singers and musicians, in some cases playing themselves, which adds to the authenticity.

Without drawing undue attention, the film makes the case that the past deserves to be honored and remembered. One scene, in which Reginald teaches teenage students about classical music and opera in comparison with rap and hip hop, makes the point explicitly, but otherwise the themes are happy to reside in the background. Watching old pros like Smith, Courtenay, Connelly, and Collins effortlessly embody their characters is the definition of pleasure.

It must be acknowledged that Quartet offers little that is new in the way of dramatic insight or character revelation. As director, Dustin Hoffman has elicited marvelous performances from his cast, and that, together with the warmth and wit, is as much as can be asked of any light comedy.

Quartet opens today at Angelika Dallas and Angelika Plano.

Review: ‘Skyfall’ is Top-Notch All the Way

Daniel Craig as James Bond in 'Skyfall' (MGM/Sony Pictures Entertainment)

Daniel Craig as James Bond in 'Skyfall' (MGM/Sony Pictures Entertainment)

Daniel Craig as James Bond in ‘Skyfall’ (MGM/Sony Pictures Entertainment)

First things first: Skyfall is the most gorgeous-looking blockbuster of the year, hands down, thanks to director of photography Roger Deakins.

Now it might seem strange to start a review of one of the most anticipated movies of the year by praising the cinematography, but I want to call attention to work that is worthy of an Academy Award in a movie series that has rarely (nine nominations in total; two wins) been so honored. It’s a mark of the film’s accomplishment, however, that the photography is not the finest achievement of Skyfall, orchestrated by director Sam Mendes under the guiding hands of producers Barbara Brocoli and Michael G. Wilson.

In Skyfall, superior action sequences surround superb dramatic scenes, one after the after, in a near-continuous stream, flowing effortlessly through a nail-biting narrative that rarely pauses; when it does, it’s for effect, to allow the mind to catch up with the racing heart.

The film’s modus operandi is established in the opening scenes. Long established as a trademark in the series, the pre-credits sequence is an opportunity for each installment to try and top all that have come before for outlandish, insanely dangerous stunts and situations. Here we have James Bond (Daniel Craig) and fellow agent Eve (Naomie Harris) in hot pursuit of a stolen list containing the secret identies of undercover British intelligence agents. Under the direct supervision of M (Judi Dench), the agents incur millions of dollars in property damage, heedlessly smashing vehicles and risking the lives of hundreds of people, ending up with Bond on top of a train locked in mortal combat with the thief while Eve locks onto her target with an assassin’s long-range rifle; a tunnel is looming ahead and seconds remain. M must make a fateful decision.

It’s all rather breathless, and the film hurtles forward from there. Nary a shot is wasted; Mendes and veteran editor Stuart Baird never linger, always pushing things forward. The story revolves around the stolen list and the increasing pressure upon M for her perceived failures, especially as applied by government minister Gareth Mallory (Ralph Fiennes), who now provides oversight for the intelligence agencies. Knowing that she is being forced into retirement, M doubles down to recapture the stolen list and discover the personal connection that she may have to the thief.

Javier Bardem creates a memorable villain, edging toward parody without falling into that trap, and key support is provided by Harris, Fiennes, Ben Whishaw as a terribly young techno-whiz Q, and Bérénice Marlohe as a new version of the “Bond girl.”

But the film belongs to Craig and Dench, with Craig giving the most complex portrayal of 007 yet and Dench fleshing out her character’s years of experience. The script is credited to Neal Purvis and Robert Wade, as well as John Logan, but it’s the performances that truly persuade, smoothing over several rough patches in the narrative. Skyfall is top-notch all the way.

Skyfall opens wide across the Metroplex on Friday, November 9.