Man on Film: Looper

This past week was a big week for this filmgoer, as not only did I get to see the new Paul Thomas Anderson film--an event for which I typically mark my calendar--but I also got to see the new Rian Johnson film, who for my money is one of the most exciting filmmakers working today. If a gun were pointed at my head, there are probably only four working directors whose work I anticipate with as comparable a fervor as I do Johnson's (for those wondering at home, the aforementioned Anderson, Malick, Cuarón, and my main man, Ben Affleck). Looper justified my anticipation while falling just a bit shy of my enormous expectations.

Any feelings about the film are chiefly informed by how enthralled one is by the world that Rian Johnson creates. Unlike perhaps any working director, Johnson has an ability to create a world around his characters that is informed by multiple genres, typically infusing the film with highly stylized dialogue reminiscent of masters like Chandler, Faulkner, and Wilder. In three times out, the end result has been captivating.

In the form of Looper, he infuses the post-apocalyptic time-travel subgenre with a healthy dose of noir styling, complete with the classic noir anti-hero living in the seamy criminal underworld. It's a winning combination, and with Johnson's panache and skills obscuring of  the ride is one filled with enough vim and vigor to distract the viewer from the various minor plot holes and foggy areas that typically lie just beneath the surface of his films.

The whole film works due in large part to the performance of the three leads, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Bruce Willis, and Emily Blunt. All are great. Reportedly a risk of late, Willis is fully invested. Gordon-Levitt is great, just as anyone who has been paying attention would expect as he's turned in fantastic performances in role after role. Blunt, who doesn't always seamlessly pull off what is asked of her, ably inhabits the person of the guilty single mother. Jeff Daniels's turn as the temporally displaced mob boss is a stand-out performance, giving him the chance to play the bad guy, albeit an atypical one. Hell, there's even a kid, and he's not horrible.

While I'll refrain from getting into plot, as that's not what I do here, I will say that Johnson smartly avoids the pitfalls of getting too heavily invested in the larger ramifications and technicalities of time travel. Johnson uses time travel simply as a plot device, a way to explore themes while avoiding the often dull scientific exposition and overly convoluted storylines. He makes the conscious decision to go down the route of making an ultimately understandable film, forgoing the potential for massive confusion of a film like Primer, which while brilliant would never play to a large audience befitting the cast and budget at play in Looper. By and large, that decision is a good one, and Looper is the latest in the storied line of fantastic time-travel action flicks that we all know and love. With Johnson's latest film closing in on 150% return on its budget, Looper's success can only mean good things for whatever his next project ends up being.

Man on Film: The Master

If there is a thread that ties Paul Thomas Anderson's rather diverse filmography together, it is that his works are all offbeat character studies. With each venture, the subject and subject matter may vary drastically, but that central characteristic remains.

As with the rest of his oeuvre, The Master marches to its own beat, and that beat is not set by anyone playing drums. Whether it was Daniel Plainfield in There Will Be Blood, Barry Egan in Punch-Drunk Love, Dirk Diggler in Boogie Nights, or the two sides of the coin that Joaquin Phoenix and Philip Seymour Hoffman play in the forms of Freddie Quell and Lancaster Dodd in The Master, Anderson places the most importance on the journey of the character and not nearly as much on the journey itself. To those craving a conventional tale in which the action and events tell the audience everything they need to know, Anderson's careful but at time obtuse studies on character are going to be ultimately unfulfilling.

Even more than his previous works, The Master veers away from a brand of filmic storytelling adhering to conventions. To me, this makes him one of cinema's brightest and most unique working auteurs, with his deft hand and careful eye and maverick vision putting him in the rarified company of Terrence Malick as writer / directors whose vision is so singular and so complete as to leave me grateful just to have gotten to go along on their ride.

In The Master, that ride is one in which two polar opposites in virtually every way are drawn together despite or perhaps exactly because of their stark differences. The extreme contrast of the two is never clearer than when they're both arrested and thrown in jail. Freddie sits (or rather rages) at one end of the spectrum: the animalistic, uncontrollable, volatile, violent man; Lancaster stands at the other pole: civilized, controlled, calm, at peace. The scene is perhaps the most powerful of the film and is a microcosm of the film on the whole. Neither the greater mechanisms and institutions of society nor the man who represents his opposite can control him, and the longer he tries to conform himself to these externally constructed systems the more violent the recoil will be when the controlling grip is lost.

What this existential struggle between the two primarily means is that both the two leads, Phoenix and Hoffman, are served up meaty roles with which they can stretch their legs, crank their necks, loosen their jaws, and bite right into. Phoenix's return to dramatic acting* is a triumph. He loses himself in the role. It is one wrought with pathos, infused with a primal physicality, an overarching hyper-pubescent sexuality, and a mischievous spirit. His backstory is a bit murky. It's hard to tell if he was broken before the war or not. Regardless, it is breathtaking. Hoffman's role requires a command of self, a conveyance of confidence, that makes the audience believe in and want to follow him. That confidence has to be so prominent that even when Lancaster Dodd is clearly making up things he believes them to be true as soon as they are uttered.

*I'm Still Here was a lot of things, but I think we can all agree it wasn't a dramatic piece of fiction.

In support, Amy Adams is fantastic. The cold-hearted First Lady of a cult-leader crackpot with an eye on the prize and a believe in The Cause that drives her. Her icy stare, when employed, is startling. It's also nice to have Jesse Plemons in house, as there is never a time that I don't want to see him in something. Unfortunately, he kills no one here, so the Landry/Todd murderer jokes don't get extended to The Master.

And as for Anderson, The Master, a full realization of his very unique vision, is captivating, and in its 70mm glory is something to behold.

Trailer is NSFW

Man on Film: The Town

Perhaps the most impressive feat that Ben Affleck, The Director, has achieved is that when leaving the theater, I kept thinking to myself that I cannot wait to see the next film by* Ben Affleck.

*I use "film by" not without the knowledge of the loaded connotation the phrase has, but it seemed the easiest way to construct the sentence. You can choose to ignore this note, but I choose to subscribe at least partially to the auteur theory.

In The Town, Affleck has crafted a compelling crime drama with the emphasis on the drama. Rather than just churn out another bank-robbing movie, Affleck has chosen to focus on character rather than action. That is not to say that the action is non-existent--quite the contrary--but the central focus is not on the heist/chase sequences, and the film is that much stronger for it.

Having found his niche within the genre, Affleck surrounded himself with an outstanding cast, threw one of the best cinematographers in the business behind the camera (Robert Elswit, whose credits include every P.T. Anderson film, Michael Clayton, Good Night, and Good Luck, and Amazing Grace and Chuck), and hired Dylan Tichenor, the editor of The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, Brokeback Mountain, and most of P.T. Anderson's films, to put the whole thing together.  And the film looks fantastic.  The Greater Boston Area comes alive on the screen, as does Affleck's affinity for his hometown--even its seedy underbelly.

As for the cast, I don't think it's any secret that I have a totally hetero-man-crush (probably) on Ben Affleck, the actor.  People used to look at what seemed to be a normal guy with discerning taste with raised eyebrows when I not only confessed that I liked Ben Affleck but vehemently defending him.  How do you like me now?  As was the case in State of Play, Hollywoodland, Extract, Affleck impresses in front of the camera.  His character, Doug MacCray, is the heart and soul of the film.  The life of the bank robber is one he was basically born into.  Brotherhood, figuratively, is what keeps him in.  What is interesting is how the external factors pull at Doug.  At his core, he is a mostly good person.  His crimes are victimless for the most part, and his life of crime is one he wants to extricate himself from.  His fraternal allegiances, his protective urges--these are the things that keep him tied in.  Doug is the heart of the film, despite his dubious pastime, and Affleck plays him with a perfect mixture of good nature, good humor, and quiet danger. 

Around Affleck is a cast rounded out with standout performances from Jeremy Renner, Rebecca Hall, Blake Lively, Pete Postelthwaite, Titus Welliver, and Jon Hamm.  Renner in particular stands tall as the hardened ex-con best friend whose stint in prison was served after protecting Doug.  His time changed him, leaving him slightly unhinged and a bit of a wild card.  There is a chaotic, anarchic energy coursing through his performance.  Any scene he is in has the audience on edge.  Postlethwaite surprises in playing the aged hard-ass.  Hall and Lively play polar opposites, with Lively playing the drugged out single mom with a flair I didn't think was possible and Hall playing the part of the victim in recovery with pitch-perfect fragility.

Narratively, the film never had me bored.  The dialogue seemed both authentic and adroitly mixed in enough comedy to strike a tonal balance to lighten things up just enough (that "Bones" line had me laughing out loud).  In short, there is nothing that I didn't love about The Town.  Sure, I'm not the most objective person on this film, but don't let that stop you from seeing this film.

Man on Film: There Will Be Blood

*****WARNING: SPOILERS ABOUNDING*****

In his latest opus, writer/director Paul Thomas Anderson (not to be confused with adult film director Paul Thomas or auteur du garbage Paul W. S. Anderson) has crafted his most spectacular work on what is already a formidable resume. There Will Be Blood finds Anderson exploring the all-consuming nature of greed as it pertains to the relationship between America's capitalism and religion, using the burgeoning oil industry in the American Southwest of the late 1800's and early 1900's as the setting and Daniel Day-Lewis--whose performance has been lauded with so many superlatives already that to try to assign another would be a futile act--to become his corruptible lead, Daniel Plainview.

At the film's opening, the audience is introduced to Plainview in his unformed state. Without speech, he toils away in a mine as a silver prospector. Here, he is early man, working with rudimentary tools in a cave. The basic hunter-gatherer, providing for himself and only himself without a support structure outside of himself. As he inadvertently discovers oil while silver prospecting, he gradually evolves from primitive man to man just starting out in a small society, with a small infrastructure of laborers working with him towards a modest goal. As he gains a son, Daniel Plainview becomes not merely a man in a society but the head of a family. It is at this point that he has become pre-industrial man. Starting from the base at which all man started, he has only one step to go to become modern man. The fact that this evolution occurs without any sound past some intermittent grunting and Jonny Greenwood's gripping, against-genre score and remains entirely enthralling is a bold testament to the power of the image over dialogue as a storytelling tool.

When the dialogue kicks in, a few years have passed, and we are introduced to Daniel Plainview, the post-Industrial Revolution man. The modern man. It is in Daniel's own voice that we come to know this incarnation. He explains who he is and his place in this society. Addressing his audience, he begins, "Ladies and Gentlemen, if I say I am an oil man, you will agree." With his son, H.W., at his side, his family business has grown. He is successful, and his love for his son is very real. His want for more wealth does not yet outweigh his love for family; his conquest has not yet devoured his humanity.

As the modern capitalist, Daniel ventures into Little Boston--a settlement in the American west much as one might have imagined the settlement at Plymouth as the American colonies were taking their first shape--and sees to cultivating its previously untapped resource. Just as he begins to lay down claim to the sea of oil beneath them, religion introduces itself to the mix in the form of Eli Sunday, a faith healer in its rawest form. As the oil infrastructure grows, so, to, does the Church of the Third Revelation. And as Eli's power grows, Daniel's adversarial view of Eli grows, too.

Daniel given the chance to make a small concession to Eli, and obviously to religion as a whole. With the "competition" in him getting the better of him, Daniel publicly rebukes Eli, favoring his younger sister, who has befriended H.W. H.W. is then stripped of his hearing in an on-site accident immediately thereafter. Losing a part of his family, albeit symbolically, Daniel lashes out at Eli the next time they meet, and Daniel's hatred inflames Eli.

Daniel's half-brother, Henry Brands, comes into the picture which enables Daniel to continue on with the family business, but as he sends his son away, he begins to lose some of what was keeping him human. Continuing on the road to success, his greed begins to take a stranglehold on him. No longer the provider in the immediate sense for his son, Daniel becomes more and more hellbent on success. As his brother turns out to be less than what he purported himself to be, Daniel sees that the family he had tried to construct in H.W.'s absence cannot be salvaged and he destroys it, and with that destruction he decimates most of what was left of his humanity.

When faced with an opportunity to acquire the last tract of land needed to build a pipeline, Daniel agrees to be cleansed of his sins in the church, but after yelling to all that would hear that he had abandoned his son, he whispers to a power-tripping Eli what one can only assume is the film's title. He has decidedly rebuked religion for the last time, and his humanity seems to be surely be leaving him next.

Even the return of his son--in a beautifully choreographed tracking shot--cannot save him (since Daniel can no longer communicate with the entity that previously kept him connected to mankind), as is made disturbingly clear in a scene which is bizarrely marked with Daniel Plainview calling out a competitor with a napkin draped over his face. Having earlier called into question Daniel's parenting skills only to be threatened with death, he sees the Standard Oil representative again at dinner. Through his behavior it is evident that anything which had been tethering him to his humanity has been cut away, leaving him adrift in his fully co-opted world.

Years later, we are brought us to Plainview's home. This Daniel has crawled inside the bottle and completely lost touch with humanity. He shoots things for perverse recreation in his mansion, which shows signs of having once been nice only to be later savaged by his lunatic binges. When a newly married H.W. comes to see his father, he sets him free once and for all in a brutal manner, and whether he is doing so for his son or out of spite, he does save his son from what one would imagine would be a similar fate. Unfortunately for Daniel, he is also parting with the last shred of his own humanity, and as we leave Daniel Plainview he has become a heartless beast not hesitating to vanquish any and all comers.

Through all the film, Daniel Day-Lewis turns in his greatest performance in what has been arguably the best career over the past 25 years. The rage that seethes beneath his black eyes is so palpable you cannot help but be taken in by Daniel Plainview. As insane as he gets, the audience still finds themselves rooting for Daniel Plainview, which is a credit to Daniel Day-Lewis' flawless turn. Paul Dano holds his own here as well, which is no small feat, and quite simply amazes. Were it not for these two actors, there is no doubt in my mind that the film would still have been immensely watchable, as Robert Elswit's cinematography was otherworldly, and absolutely deserving of the Academy Award it won.

Honestly, had There Will Be Blood won Best Picture over No Country for Old Men, I--for one--would not have objected. In fact, the scope of There Will Be Blood possibly makes it more impressive. This film was that amazing.