Based on true events that took place in and around Colombia University in 1944, director John Krokidas‘ impressive debut feature, Kill Your Darlings, is a dark, moody tale of obsession, betrayal, and murder involving a handful of young men, unruly intellectuals who poison as much as they inspire and arouse each other. These young men just happen to be Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, William S. Burroughs, and Lucien Carr (and others), the cornerstone figures of the eminently influential Beat Generation, but Krokidas’ film wisely doesn’t check your knowledge of their later accomplishments at the door.

It’s a self-contained origin story of the beloved literary and counterculture icons that’s friendly to the unfamiliar as it cuts off just before our anti-heroes go off to become famous writers. The movie’s focus begins to blur eventually when it starts playing it too loose for its own good, but it’s intoxicating throughout and harbors a murderer’s row of thriving young actors who deliver solid performances.

Daniel Radcliffe (The Boy Who Lived!) leads the ensemble as Ginsberg, a brilliant, sheepish 17-year-old freshman at Colombia who becomes enamored with Carr (Dane DeHaan, ridiculously good), an androgynous, boisterous rebel with a magnetic aura and an affinity for reciting Henry Miller on top of tables in the campus library. Carr ushers the Ginsberg into a hazy world of heavy drugs, heavy drinking, and heavy ideas, ideas that renounce societal, sexual, religious, and artistic norms. Through Carr, Ginsberg meets the kooky, likable Burroughs (Ben Foster, who’s great as usual, though he lets his younger cast-mates shine), the hard-headed (one-dimensionally written) Kerouac (Jack Huston), and David Kammerer (Michael C. Hall), a spiteful, damaged soul.

The drugged-out thinkers massage each others’ genius (it’s almost as sexual as it sounds), ruminating through the night and brainstorming ways to upheave the system and shake up the social consciousness. Kamerer is the bitter outlier of the group–he and Carr have a dark, nebulous history that eventually turns murderous–Kill Your Darlings begins at the end, opening with Carr holding Kammerer’s dead body in the Hudson River.

There isn’t a bad word to say about the performances the actors turn in. Not a thing. But still, there isn’t a grand, towering performance turned in either, though DeHaan comes close with his assured, seductive take on Carr, by far the most interesting of the lot (even the other characters are drawn to him like flies to a light). Radcliffe balances the wide-eyed naiveté and big brains of the young Ginsberg well, and he disappears into the role with ease (surprisingly, “Harry” didn’t pop into my head even once). The chemistry between Radcliffe and DeHaan sizzles, which is good, since their relationship bears the heft of the drama. The supporters–Elizabeth Olsen, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Kyra Sedgwick, David Cross–are superb and make the few moments they have on camera count.

As the story–written by Krokidas and Austin Bunn–unfolds and Ginsberg follows Carr deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole, things get a little sketchy. Krokidas gets funky with his camerawork, which helps communicate the groups’ druggy state, but often results in shots that seem superficial and superfluous in relation to the narrative. One scene in particular–a happy-gas-induced dream sequence in a jazz club–feels awfully showboat-y, though it’s got a ton of style, just like the rest of the film, which is worth noting. The rich, moody atmosphere Krokidas and DP Reed Morano create is striking, with deep shadows and dusty light framing the characters as they scheme and philosophize around in and around the university in the dead of night. There’s a chilling, shadowy, nocturnal feel to the sets and locations that makes the film feel like it’s been dipped in a bucket of film noir (a good thing).

One of the film’s glaring blemishes is a writing conundrum that Krokidas and Bunn couldn’t seem to work around. From the outset, it’s clear that Ginsberg is meant to be our eyes and ears, our vessel into Krokidas’ smoky 1940’s world of knit sweaters and boozy excess. With this in mind, the scenes between Carr and Kammerer feel oddly ancillary, as Ginsberg wasn’t involved with these meetings at all. It’s a bit off-putting, though Krokidas’ narrative is obviously trapped by the reality of the events, so it’s hard to think of how he could have worked around it.

As an introduction to the Beats (which it will likely be to many), Kill Your Darlings is a success–despite its flaws, it successfully dramatizes some of the most canonized figures in modern literature without relying on their reputation (no easy feat), making them cool, young, and edgy again. It’ll likely inspire many a youth to pick up a book by one of the Beats or perhaps put pen to paper themselves, which is a triumph.

Kill Your Darlings trailer:

There’s no way around it. David Lowery’s darkly romantic Texas tale, Ain’t Them Bodies Saints (love the title), starring Casey Affleck and Rooney Mara as bandit lovers, begs comparison to the films of Terrence Malick, one of the cinematic masters of our era. It isn’t bad company to be in—the comparisons are a high compliment, actually—but being examined next to the very best can diminish a film’s individuality. With Ain’t Them Bodies Saints, Lowery leaves me no choice.

Lowery’s outlaw tale owes a bit of its spirit to Badlands. Just a bit, though—it owes even more to Arthur Penn’s Bonnie and Clyde. The Malick comparison that’s hugely unavoidable is the film’s unmistakable resemblance to Days of Heaven—both are stunning with sun-soaked natural lighting, a melancholy Texas setting, and ephemeral editing that flows like the breeze. Though the film feels derivative on certain levels, there’s also a sense that Lowery is staying true to himself here. He does have his own voice—it just happens to be one of a film-lover and student of the game who’s been touched by Malick’s work. Other influences are clear—‘70s road films, Paul Thomas Anderson, Cormac McCarthy, and Robert Altman (the latter two of which Lowery has frequently cited as influences)—but Malick’s rings the truest, or at least the loudest.

Like AMC’s The Walking Dead, Ain’t Them Bodies Saints shows you what happens after most movies cut to credits. The setting is a tiny town in Texas, and we start at the end—after a heist gone wrong, Bob Muldoon (Affleck) and Ruth Guthrie (Mara), a dusty pair of outlaw lovebirds (Ruth is carrying Bob’s child) are arrested after a classic shootout with the police. Patrick Wheeler (Ben Foster, an excellent character actor who is uncharacteristically soft-spoken and tender here), one of the cops on the scene, is shot by Ruth, but Bob takes the fall and is sentenced to 25 years in prison. Cut to four years later, and Bob’s escaped from prison to return to and run off with Ruth and his daughter, Sylvie (now 4 years old). Of course, we see nothing of the breakout, as Ain’t Them Bodies Saints is all about emotion as a result of action, not the action itself. The town is alerted of his escape, and Wheeler takes to keeping an eye on Ruth and Sylvie in anticipation of Bob’s impending arrival.

Ruth has come to terms with the fact that she and Bob’s relationship is a doomed one, but she and Sylvie are Bob’s only desire, and still he comes. Bob’s unfettered determination to return to his family is moving, if a little tragic. Affleck and Mara have precious little onscreen time together, but fascinatingly enough, their chemistry is the driving force of the film. In true Malick-ian fashion, they exchange whispers of devotion and mythic romance in thick Texas accents as they’re drenched in melancholic magic-hour sunrays. Though their exchanges are few, Affleck, Mara, and Lowery (who also penned the film) make every word, every longing glance, count. We feel their longing whether they’re both on-screen or not.

Lowery makes time for tender moments like Ruth singing Sylvie an achingly sweet lullaby or Bob laying is head on Ruth’s lap in their parked truck late at night. This is a quiet, almost muffled film, relying on atmosphere to convey the brunt of the emotion. Dialogue is sparse by design. Keith Carradine (a throwback to a time when Hollywood was full of men, not boys in men’s clothes) plays Skerritt, Bob’s adopted father and guardian to Ruth and Sylvie. He says things once, clearly and with authority, because he doesn’t care to repeat himself.

Lowery and cinematographer Bradford Young communicate most of their ideas not through plot, but through dark, dark imagery—the murky, smudged lighting and thick, almost impossibly black nighttime scenes (honestly—I don’t know how they shot them) reflect Bob and Ruth’s bleak and ill-fated future. The rusty, dusty atmosphere is so palpable it’s almost tactile—when Bob kicks up piles of dust while evading the police, you almost want to cough. Another nice touch is that we’re never given a definitive time period in which the story takes place, which lends the film a sense of timelessness.

Here’s the thing—all signs point to this movie being a larger-than-life, soul-rattling Americana tale like Malick is known to gift us with, but the signs lead nowhere. The components of the film—the breathtaking imagery, the superb performances, the tasteful narrative, the tender, perfectly captured moments—ultimately don’t add up to greatness. Malick can shake emotions buried inside us that we didn’t even know we had. He offers grand ideas that can shift your state of mind or even your values. With Ain’t Them Bodies Saints, Lowery has all the pieces to the puzzle, but just can’t put them together like the master can, though his creation is undeniably beautiful in its own right. Perhaps the darkness that pervades the film is the long shadow of Malick, watching over his apprentice as he struggles with his homework. I imagine Lowery would receive an encouraging wink and a B-.

Ain’t Them Bodies Saints trailer:

David Lowery’s unclear and unconvincing script extinguishes what could have been a fiery noir burning with lust and violence. His story contains many great crime genre staples—a love struck criminal, a beautiful country girl, a menacing father figure, lusty cops, and a prison escape; not to mention it’s set in the 30s. The industrious Lowery has lured immense talent to Ain’t Them Bodies Saints but it fails to deliver even an ounce of the proposed excitement. I think Lowery fights to avoid genre clichés and in doing so saps the drama from his story.

Ain’t Them Bodies Saints opens with Casey Affleck and Rooney Mara’s characters arguing, but obviously very much in love. Without earning an investment in their relationship it hardly matters when Affleck goes to prison after a heist gone wrong in the next scene. Now neither character has anything to do but pine for the other. Luckily, Bradford Young’s stunning cinematography breathes some life into scenes with little content. Mara seems to have nothing to do but wander through town at sunset and does not posses the aura to express anything through her inactivity. Lowery always seems to place viewers in the lesser dramatic point of view. He follows Mara while Affleck’s character toils in prison and eventually escapes to win her back. Its lazy execution calls to mind the haphazard prison escape sequence in Down by Law, which Jim Jarmusch plays for laughs. Ain’t Them Bodies Saints, on the other hand, is deadly serious in showing Affleck’s flight from bondage with the mundane image of him emerging from the woods tattered and covered in dirt.

Luckily Affleck proves more adept at wielding inactivity than his co-star. He always hides some mystery behind his eyes as he dances through Lowery’s poetic monologues about escaping prison and his undying love for a woman. Eventually he does act on his goal and attempts to find Mara. However, I found myself struggling to care. He first gets thwarted by Keith Carradine, who seems to be some kind of foster or adoptive father to Mara or even both of them, and then by a band of bounty hunters looking for the loot Affleck kept to himself. These confrontations prove extremely unsatisfying and sometimes even maddeningly confusing as Lowery clouds the circumstances of every relationship. Finally, when Affleck faces down his pursuers, even he appears confounded.

The most vague of all is Ben Foster’s character—a cop involved in the shootout at the beginning of the film that led to Affleck’s arrest. He shyly peruses Mara when he’s tasked to watch her when the police learn of Affleck’s escape. He manages to steal every scene he’s in, but Mara doesn’t provide tough competition.

Without it’s huge stars, stunning cinematography or enchanting music Ain’t Them Bodies Saints would be near unwatchable. Perhaps on paper, Lowery’s picture appeared as a resurgence of period crime drama in the vein of the much beloved Badlands or recent hit Boardwalk Empire. I lament that the film does not live up to its lofty goals and instead it only provides loving references to its superior influences.

My third day at the Cannes Film Festival brought both my favorite and least favorite films of the festival so far. After hearing some positive buzz around the Japanese film, Soshite chichi ni naru (Like Father, Like Son), I decided to give the film a chance. And I am glad that I did. It was the first film that I have seen here that was able to take a simple narrative and make it into something complex and organized. It is definitely going to be hard to top Like Father, Like Son. Then I headed over to the Miramar theater to catch my first International Critics’ Week film, Ain’t Them Bodies Saints. The film was picked up by IFC Films right after it won a couple awards after it premiered at the Sundance Film Festival. Ain’t Them Bodies Saints‘s director David Lowery came on stage alongside the leads Casey Affleck and Rooney Mara, to introduce his film to a packed theater for its first foreign screening of the film. My third and final film of the day ended up being the biggest bust at Cannes so far for me. I stood in line for nearly 1 and a half hours for the French film, Tip Top, only to realize that I apparently do not get French “humor”. Reactions from a primarily French audience received a lot of laughs, just none from me and a few others that were not able to make it all the way through the film.

Outside of the Miramar Theater in Cannes for Ain’t Them Bodies Saints

Like Father, Like Son

Like Father, Like Son gracefully touches on social class issues, nature versus nurture, and the “right” way to raise a child. After finding out that their six-year-old child got switched at birth, the main focus of the film is the decision to choose bloodlines or the six important years of parenting and bonding with a child, Like Father, Like Son continuously develops its story. The film shows its cards almost right away but it remains intriguing long after you think it has played its hand. As a whole, the film is an excellent display of storytelling as it takes a rather basic premise and turns it into the emotionally complex film that it is.

RATING: 8.9

Read my full review of Like Father, Like Son

Ain’t Them Bodies Saints

Ain’t Them Bodies Saints is set in the sun-filled landscapes of Texas where Bob Muldoon (Casey Affleck) and his recently pregnant wife Ruth Guthrie (Rooney Mara) are on the run from cops after a string of robberies. Only a few scenes into the film, the shootout between them and the police ends with Bob being hauled off to prison where he is sentenced to stay for the next 25 years. However, Bob would only stay there four years before busting out in order get back to his family. This sends a local sheriff Patrick Wheeler (Ben Foster) on the case to track him down. Ain’t Them Bodies Saints ends up being more about the love between Bob and Ruth than it is about the action, which makes for some pacing issues.

However, biggest fault of the film is not investing enough into the one thing that is chose to focus on; the relationship between the couple. Because of this, Bob’s fate feels inevitably doomed but I found myself not caring if he ever makes it back to his wife or daughter. Affleck does dominate the screen when he appears and makes a good case for one of his better roles as an actor, which makes it all the more sad that his character is underwritten. Ain’t Them Bodies Saints takes a risk by starting the film with one of it’s only action-packed scenes instead of spending a little more time setting up its characters. By the end, the film loses too much of its initial steam that results for an unsatisfying ending.

RATING: 6.7

From the highly praised director Fernando Meirelles (City of God) comes 360, a film that shows how decisions in life connect a group of strangers to each other. The film is about forks in the road and how your decision changes not only your path but others as well. In the end the film comes full circle, which is how the film gets its title 360.

360 is set in just about as many places as the amount of characters it contains. The common theme amongst the characters is romantic dilemmas that through one way or another connect the characters together. The first example of this is when a young Slovakian woman begins her work as a prostitute meets her first client Michael (Jude Law) who is cheating on his wife Rose (Rachel Weisz).

However, the best showing of the intersecting storyline is at the Denver airport. We see Laura (Maria Flor) who just broke up with her boyfriend who was cheating on her with Rose sit next to John (Anthony Hopkins) on the airplane. The two get to know each other and plan to meet for some drinks at restaurant in the airport once they find out that all flights have been cancelled due to weather. Waiting for John to get the hotel vouchers, Laura ends up meeting a man named Tyler (Ben Foster).

Tyler is a sex offender who recently had been released from six years in prison. He does not feel he is fit to be on the outside but his counselor believes he has rehabilitated enough to make it. Tyler legitimately wants to do the right thing. He makes a call to his counselor once he gets off the plane saying that he is still worried that his urges may be triggered. But that was before he met Laura, who ends up getting him to drink.

After Tyler’s counselor makes a call to the airport security to inform them of the public danger he imposes, an announcement is made over the airport speakers asking Tyler to report to the front desk. This announcement is heard right as John makes it back to the restaurant where he planned to meet Laura. But because he ended up taking too long Laura already met someone. Laura just wants attention after getting cheated on by her boyfriend but little does she know, the man she decides to flirt with is a sex offender.

I say the airport is the best example of the patchwork storyline because it shows these characters intersect in a small quarters of the airport. Not only that but it also has the most interesting set of characters. The reason why they may be the most interesting set is because we are given backgrounds on each of the three characters, which is something the film did not seem to always do.

From a technical stand point, the film is wonderfully done. The camera work is undeniably great. Shots that can fail if not done properly such as split screen shots or reflections of characters in mirrors were done wonderfully here. Sometimes Fernando Meirelles even combined split screen and mirror shots together.

In fact, there were many scenes where we see the character only from a mirror. Perhaps the meaning behind showing so many mirror shots was to show the duality of the character. The reflections physically show that there are two sides of each character. Much like a fork in the road, there are two separate choices.

In addition to the great composition of camera shots was superb film editing and acting. The editing work was often evident from the liberal use of blending transitions from scene to scene. And the ensemble cast was in top form thanks in part to; Jude Law, Ben Foster, Rachel Weisz, and Anthony Hopkins.

Even though the structure of the story has been done before (and done better such as in Magnolia), slowly revealing how strangers connect to one another, 360 was still enjoyable. The biggest problem with the film is that it goes into too much detail about the characters we do not care about and not enough in the characters we do. Which means at times you may find yourself looking at your watch and other times wishing the film showed more. 360 could not find the right balance between too much detail and not enough detail.