“Someone is missing.”

That’s the tagline of “Shutter Island”, the fourth and latest collaboration between legendary director Martin Scorsese and his current muse, Leonardo DiCaprio. But it also could represent the acknowledgement that there’s a sizeable hole in the landscape of modern commercial filmmaking—we’re missing someone who is at the top of his game and is still willing to take chances with films that play in the realm of the psychological. A realm where the monsters aren’t CGI or otherworldly, and instead are very much products of the lives we live. Alfred Hitchcock never had a problem seizing (and in some ways creating) this mantle and wearing it as a badge of honor, even as his now-lauded masterpieces of the psychological like “Vertigo” were panned on release. In “Shutter Island”, Scorsese grabs that mantle and dances around with it on his head proudly and unabashedly. And it’s one hell of a thing to behold.

Now, sure, there are those who question whether Scorsese is actually currently at the top of his game, considering his last film (and now this one) represents his commercial, but perhaps not creative, pinnacle. But that ignores the fact that he’s coming off his only Best Director Oscar winner in “The Departed”, and those who are quick to criticize Scorsese are slow to come up with a living filmmaker whose canon can match up with his, punch for bloody punch, shot for bloody shot. He’s steeped in Americana, hell, he IS Americana. He is legend. At this point we’re just witnessing a historical legacy continually being built and shaped. To question the power of his latest works in comparison to others is the wrong way to look at it. Pete Rose’s 3000^th and 4000^th hits may not have been struck as sharply as his 1000^th and 2000^th, but they’re arguably more important in his legacy. And Scorsese is far from taking victory laps. He’s doing some of the most taut and entertaining work of his career right now at age 67. We’d all do well to sit back and enjoy history being replayed and made at the same time in front of our very eyes.

In “The Departed” Scorsese and DiCaprio started down a path exploring individualized madness. The longer DiCaprio’s police character was undercover, the more he wore it on his face, and the more it showed up in his actions. His tormented performance scored him myriad nominations and awards, but in the film it was his cool demeanor and clear-headedness that won out over the demons his character tempted throughout. If “The Departed” tenuously tempted these demons, and explored these paths of madness, “Shutter Island” builds a fortress at the end of them and invites and traps the demons inside. 

Yes, “Someone is missing”. But at Shutter Island, a mid 1950’s mental hospital for the criminally insane, a lot of someones are missing. Walking ghosts who have been lobotomized into near-zombie state tend the eerily-lovely gardens. Everyone is on edge. Doom and gloom loom over every interaction and the foreboding sense of coming darkness is as palpable as has been seen on film since David Lynch’s “Blue Velvet” marvelously panned below the surface of small town America to show the infestations lurking just below.

And yes, someone in particular is missing, the most dangerous patient on the island in fact. The patient seemingly has run of the entire island until they can be brought in, and this situation seems to be worrying the main characters more than anyone. These two main characters, played by DiCaprio and Mark Ruffalo, are US Marshalls charged with securing the patient. But they very quickly discern that the people they may need to be most worried about securing are themselves. There’s only one good way on and off Shutter Island, and once a hurricane hits, there’s no good way on or off the Island. But maybe there never was. We begin to shuffle and trudge down the paths of madness with these characters, then we dash down them, get lost, and begin to honestly question where we are and how we got there. Then there’s a lighthouse at the end of the tunnel, but should we trust it? Is it a trap? Will it just crash us into the rocks instead of steering us away? This is a film that swirls you (and the characters) in circles until you’re falling over and grasping at anything to steady yourself. And what you find yourself holding may end up being a worse consequence than falling down would’ve been.

Pull it together Teddy

The casting and acting are inspired, most notably Ben Kingsley as the sheep, or possibly wolf, in sheep’s clothing as the Island’s principal psychiatric doctor. Some ulterior motive, one with fangs, seems to be lurking just inside his Cheshire smile. He pulls us through the film’s twists and turns with just the right amounts of every emotion he needs to supply in each interaction to create the desired impact. Really, it’s a command performance. But it doesn’t overshadow absolutely excellent work from DiCaprio. DiCaprio really is nearly in a league of his own in terms of young actors who can carry such a complex leading role throughout such a twisted tale. If this is Scorsese’s 4000^th hit in a legendary career, it well could be the 1000^th for DiCaprio on the same path. We’re watching him build his legacy with every project he undertakes, and to do so in conjunction with the legacy of Scorsese is pure joy. Scorsese is steeped in cinematic tradition, so steeped he’s now a major part of it. DiCaprio is weaving on the same loom; they’re working their threads into the same tapestry.

But it’s not just Kingsley and DiCaprio. The film also soars due to the always fascinatingly-edgy Ted Levine, and the ever-creepy Max Von Sydow. In Levine you have one of film’s most legendary serial killers (Buffalo Bill in “Silence of the Lambs”.) In Von Sydow you have a man who has both played the devil (“Needful Things”) and faced down with death in a legendary game of chess (“The Seventh Seal”.) When it comes to atmosphere, just having these guys around amps up the creepy scale by powers of ten.

The Classic Platinum Blonde. Kim Novak anyone?

There’s also as many perfectly icy (in some cases soaking wet and/or frozen) femme fatales (Michelle Williams, Emily Mortimer, Patricia Clarkson) as you can shake a stick at.  And the patients we do get extended talks with (including Jackie Earl Haley and a couple of perfect lesser known actors) seem straight out of central casting if central casting were filled only with mental patients.  Everyone in the cast nails the pitch and tenor of their performances. Of course, they’re working with someone who managed to get something great out of Sharon Stone in “Casino” and Tom Sizemore in “Bringing Out The Dead” so it’s to be expected. Still, enough can’t be said about the cast and casting.

The only thing left to talk about is the direction. Scorsese here helms a film that does what he does so well, which is echo great moments and directors in film history. Scorsese is so deft, where others mimic and repeat, he merely echoes. So that his work is both of the ages and for the ages. We’re talking echoes of Hitchcock’s greatest hits here, with moments in “Shutter Island” that resound from “Vertigo”, “North By Northwest”, “Psycho”, “Spellbound”, “Rope”, “Lifeboat”, and “Rebecca” among others. But the film also sounds at times of noir and neo-noir like “Chinatown”, as well as psychological horror like “The Cabinet of Doctor Calagari” and “Carnival of Souls”, and character drama like “The Red Shoes.” This is cinematic music, orchestrated with familiar notes, but also wholly original. It’s fascinating to experience on so many levels.

It would be tragic to spoil where this film gets, or any details about how it gets there, so while praise is easy, criticism is difficult. Minor quibbles can be made with the film’s editing (a lot of sloppy mistakes here being excused as style), and certainly stylistic choices were made to tell the story in a certain way. Not all of them work perfectly. But all of them create a sense of confusion and dizziness. A swimming in the head. Vertigo in the mold of “Vertigo”, with a story just as twisted. The end effect is a film that works, even if you know the outcome, but especially if you don’t. It begs to be seen multiple times.

As said earlier, the film is a spiraling helter skelter slide of an amusement. It’s a fantastic adaptation of an excellent book by Dennis Lehane, and screenwriter Laeta Kalogridis’ adaptation skillfully delves further into the psyche of America in a budding cold war with Communism than Lehane’s book did. The House Un-American Activities Committee rears its ugly head. The specter of the red boogeyman lurks around the corners and within the files, just as the memories of the Nazis haunt and affect DiCaprio. This is a film about a patient on the loose at a mental hospital for criminals, but in true Hitchcockian fashion, there’s a significant MacGuffin (or two) in the story. It’s about a lot more than it seems.

Someone is missing.

9/10

(make plans to see this asap, don’t be spoiled)

FANTASTIC MR. FOX

Someone I know said something to the effect of “interesting that an animated film is the most Wes Anderson like film of any of Wes Anderson’s films.”

And while it’s true that “The Fantastic Mr. Fox” contains elements familiar to Wes Anderson’s canon (characters questioning the essential nature of their beings, teenage angst, a soundtrack that is both one of the film’s layers and essential to the character’s lives, quirky humor, etc.) this is not the quintessential Wes Anderson film. It has flaws, it’s a little shoddy, and it’s not as deeply-layered as his previous works.

But, damn, it’s fun. It entertains. It succeeds and exceeds at what it tries to do. As an animated film, it absolutely transcends the genre, both relying on conventions and playing with them with just the right touches of irony and wink-of-the-eye (literally) humor. Anderson et al understood they were making an animated film, but they also understood they were making a Wes Anderson film, and the result is absolutely everything you’d dream this combination could produce.

What makes a fox a fox? What makes a wild animal a wild animal? What impact do those essential elements have on the life decisions of said creatures? This film does an outstanding job of tackling these questions head on. They’re questions you’ll enjoy seeing answered, and find yourself pondering, even though you never pondered them or cared about the answers before. FMF contains memorable characters, scenes, and devices. And, particularly in the story involving a young fox voiced to near perfection by Jason Schwartzman, it’s an impressive film of any genre that deals with family, and expectations.

The themes in this film are 10/10 good, and the execution of the themes is 10/10 good. My only complaint is the film isn’t logical or consistent even within it’s own universe. Of course it’s not logical or consistent that a fox would walk on his hind legs and speak English, but once you have him doing so, you need to be a little more careful with the execution of the story than Anderson is here. More succinctly, when you make a “kids” movie with such adult themes, you serve two masters. In doing so, you run the risk of serving neither completely.

The issue isn’t that I think the film was too adult or too childish. It’s that I think with several minor changes, it could have succeeded at being both. Instead, it falls just short of making sense from a story standpoint in some cases, even as it does a wonderful job of making sense in other areas. I think even kids will recognize some of these weaknesses. But what’s good about this film is so good, ultimately it doesn’t matter much. You’ll end up very entertained and even emotionally affected. Like the characters in the film, you’ll eventually be able to accept this one on its charming face. Even as that face is a wild animal bearing its teeth in a sheepish smile, and winking at you.

8/10

EXTRACT

The problem with extract as a substance is it’s so distilled that you only need one or two drops before you’re overwhelmed with the sense of what it is, and wishing you had something to break it down into a more pleasurable mix. It can be wildly representative of much greater things, but it can also be too much of one thing to produce a full, pleasurable experience. I have a friend who once cleared out an entire room with a couple of drops of butter extract. Extract is overwhelming and should be handled with caution.

“Extract” the film is a Mike Judge comedy, so it’s wildly representative of his greater works just in mere name alone. Judge is a master at the subtle flavors, so that Beavis and Butthead isn’t just about stupid kids, King of the Hill isn’t just about rednecks, Office Space wasn’t just about a job, and Idiocracy wasn’t just about a phony futuristic society. His blends produce unique combinations that are sneakily much better than one would initially assume, and not overwhelming in any one way so as to drag down the entire product.

He finds his success in simple ways. He’s able to tell full stories with small moments, like using a character named Michael Bolton in “Office Space” who rebels against that name by acting hardcore, but is also afraid of brown-skinned flower vendor. You know a ton about that character just from his minor interactions and characterizations. Hank Hill on “King of the Hill” may be an animated dad on a seemingly one trick show, but he’s as three-dimensional a character/father as there’s been on television in the last couple of decades. Judge is master who flies under the radar simply by flying under the radar in his work.  His work seems broad, but it blends broad elements in such ways as to produce unique, pleasurable experiences.

Unfortunately, “Extract” is just broad. I laughed a little, but it went nowhere beyond that. The typical Mike Judge blend isn’t present in the film. The elements don’t combine to produce anything unique. Instead they just stay overwhelmingly what they are. Sure, it’s got funny moments (though nothing, I suspect, that anyone will find memorable, quotable, or lasting.) And the performances are fine (though Lord knows Kristen Wiig is tragically misused when cast in a straight role. She’s much better as she was in “Ghost Town”, slightly askew, odd, and yet seemingly normal on the surface. Here, she was downright boring.) But overall, the film was bitterly disappointing. All it amounts to is a by the numbers romantic comedy, where each element exists for one purpose, and they’re all familiar, and they produce nothing memorable.

6/10

USA VS. AL-ARIAN

I’m reviewing every film I watch for the first time in 2010, so I’m perhaps a little late to the game on this one, but “US vs. AL-ARIAN” fever didn’t exactly sweep the nation in 2007, so I suspect that you, like me, missed this one.

And on some level, it’s a shame that US v. Al-Arian (the court case, not the film) fever DIDN’T sweep the nation. Or, more pointedly, that the fever that actually swept the nation and swept up our civil liberties with it was the fever that produced the sickness that is the court case at the heart of US v. Al-Arian.

Sami Al-Arian was a college professor at the University of South Florida, arrested on terrorism and conspiracy-related charges and at one time labeled by US officials as one of the most dangerous men in North America. His alleged crime? Funneling money and planning events in North America for a Palestinian group the US has labeled as terrorists.

Without spoiling the facts of the story beyond that, you get the impression that Sami Al-Arian is not the face of evil the government would present him to be, and you can no doubt sympathize, at least somewhat, with his plight.

My view of this film is perhaps tainted by my status as a person who has completed a legal education. But I wanted and expected the film to be about the court case, about the allegations of terrorism and the nuts and bolts of the case at bar, and about the implications of the case for everyone in the US. But this film was instead about Sami Al-Arian’s family. This approach leads to an overall feeling of emotional calculation and manipulation on the part of the filmmakers. It’s less “Frontline” and more like a reality show focusing on the Al-Arian family as they struggle with the imprisonment, trials, and tribulations of their patriarch.

The unfortunate thing is, there’s a fascinating and anger-inducing story at the heart of this film. It isn’t just Sami Al-Arian’s civil liberties that are threatened by an overzealous government who has as much issue with what he’s saying as they do with how and to whom he’s saying it. No, the civil liberties at stake are anyone’s who expresses thoughts or acts in ways deemed “wrong” by the government. But this story doesn’t come to the forefront when 75 percent of the film focuses on the family of the accused. You could skip this one, and read Sami Al-Arian’s website and you would end up more informed, and not having missed anything.

5/10

30 FOR 30: THE U

ESPN has a somewhat fascinating series running right now with it’s “30 for 30” programming to celebrate its 30th anniversary. Essentially, they’re highlighting some of the best (pre-existing and original) sports documentaries from recent years with weekly broadcasts of the documentaries in full. No story I’ve seen as part of this series is as enrapturing as the summary of rise and fall of the University of Miami Hurricanes football program simply entitled “The U”.

There are thousands of Universities across the country, but there’s only one referred to in our collective consciousness as “The U”. And that’s the University of Miami in Coral Gables, Florida. Why does this program with excellent academic chops in such an idyllic setting get national recognition as THE U? “30 for 30: The U” tells this story to much entertainment, and the answer is, not the academics, or the setting. It’s football.

In many ways, The U’s football program was what is right about collegiate sports. It was full of kids from terrible neighborhoods and homes for whom football was the brass ring, the only way out. It produced incredibly entertaining games, and made many kids who would never have had a shot anywhere else into millionaires in the NFL. It also provided these kids the shot at a world-class education that they otherwise would not have had.

But, The U’s football program also represented what was wrong about collegiate sports. In fact, it became THE U that was singled out as the lightning rod for all criticism of college athletics, specifically football, across the nation. It took kids who needed discipline, and then provided them no oversight. It took kids who needed help academically, and then didn’t take an active interest in their education. It took kids who were “problem kids” and then let them run roughshod over any and everything in sight.

“The U” is told through the eyes of former players looking back, and through the eyes of journalists who covered the team and city at the time. But it’s also told through the times themselves, through archival footage and news headlines writ large. Director Billy Corben does an excellent job weaving these disparate sources into a unified narrative about this incredible school and this indelibly-etched-into-the-consciousness football program.

My only complaint with the film is I would’ve liked to have heard more voices: opposing coaches, opposing players (no sit downs with Deion Sanders?), outspoken critics, current football heavy hitters, and current star athletes. A strength of this film is that the voices of the ex players and coaches are so interesting, so bold, so brash and in many ways so void of regret. However, because it relies so heavily on these voices, the film ends up being lot more of a love letter to The U than a legitimate unbiased portrait. But it’s still an incredible story, even if it’s told, like an old war story from a grandparent, with a twinkle in the narrators’ eyes.

7.5/10

So let’s get started.

INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS

A lot of what you need to know about Quentin Tarantino can be summed up with that title. The man can’t spell and/or doesn’t care. He likes to do things he thinks are quirky and artsy and doesn’t care to explain himself or to make any apologies for what he does.

It leads to cool things, like the contents of the mysterious briefcase in “Pulp Fiction”. And it leads to annoying things, like the Amanda Plummer line showed at the beginning of “Pulp Fiction” being different when she says it when the scene arrives again in the course of the film. There’s a fine line between art and reality, between doing something to create interest and discussion and doing it simply to be obtuse. It’s a line that has to be handled with a subtle touch, and Quentin Tarantino is about as subtle as a construction worker at a sewing circle. His ham-handed touch is something far less than deft.

What’s annoying or most frustrating is in his films he shows the ability to be a fantastic film maker, but he can never stop getting in his own way. That’s not to say his films aren’t entertaining, in fact they usually are. But I usually end up as frustrated as I do entertained.

“Inglourious Basterds” fits this mold to a T. It is an immensely entertaining film, filled with moments of annoyance and frustration that prevent it from being something I wholly enjoyed or find much more value in than not.

His pipe cracks me up

By way of a quick summary, the film is ostensibly about a group of Jewish mercenaries in World War 2 who strike fear in the Nazis by showing no mercy–scalping, branding, and taking no prisoners with any Nazi group they ambush. But it’s also about a Nazi “Jew Hunter” who relishes in his occupation so much that every one of his seemingly-normal interactions is tinged with the possibility of death-inducing rage and anger exploding out of every pore. And finally it’s about one of his prey who has reason for revenge, and what that prey tries to do to exact said revenge.

Because the film has various storylines and characters, it doesn’t come together as well as it should. I suspect if you see this film expecting to follow and revel in the exploits of the band of Jewish mercenary brothers, you will be disappointed. Their actions are only a smaller part of the larger story. And though the “Jew Hunter” is fantastically played  (at an Oscar level) by Christoph Waltz, he’s only in the film enough to merit consideration for Best Supporting Actor.

The film’s narrative unfolds quite effectively in several 10-15 minute scenes, a couple of which (in a farm house, in a restaurant, in a bar) are the best scenes in the film and at times transcend the film’s overall impact. That impact is why I’m middle of the road on this film. The moments of fantastic filmmaking or performances are balanced out by moments of complete cheesiness, stylistic miscues, and poor performances. For every Christop Waltz, there’s a Mélanie Laurent, who in classic Tarantino fashion is a woman he shoots in closeup and 3/4 shots so much you’d think he thinks she’s Grace Kelly. In this film she’s not deserving of the star treatment, she rolls her eyes and cackles and glams it up just like she was supposed to, but she comes off as annoying, and lost my sympathy. The Guy Ritchie-esque introduction of Sgt. Hugo Stiglitz is cool, and entertaining, but doesn’t fit in a film of extended takes and modest scenes/settings. Nor do a lot of the music selections, anachronistic dialogue, or stylistic choices. I get that this mismash of styles and “cool” film tricks is what makes Tarantino Tarantino. It’s also what makes his films annoying to me. Throwing motor oil onto a canvas and calling it sculpture may be art and entertaining to some people. To me it’s phony and pretentious. And annoying.

This one is all the more frustrating, because what “Inglourious Basterds” shows more than any of his films is that when Tarantino’s urge to be “cool” isn’t getting in his own way, he can be a very very good film maker. But he remains like a precocious child, producing greatness at the same time as showing off, ever in need of dialing back, and, this close to making truly great cinema. The last line is something to the effect of “I think this might just be my masterpiece.” It’s spoken by a character, but it’s clearly self-serving. That sums up Quentin Tarantino. He can’t let you draw your own feelings about his work. He has to carve it into your head himself.

6.5/10