It’s the end of Indiecast Week and in anticipation of tomorrow’s Oscars, Bernard and CJ share their picks for who should and will win! Also, two special guests join the show as director John Hillcoat and Breaking Bad actor Aaron Paul talk about their new crime-thriller, Triple 9, out in theaters now. Bernard shares his impressions of the film and the boys offer two more Indie Picks of the Week. What more could you want? We hope you enjoyed Indiecast Week as much as we did!

Topics

• Indie Picks (3:17)
• Oscar Picks (15:42)
• John Hillcoat (37:57)
• Aaron Paul (47:47)
• Triple 9 Review (50:16)

Articles Referenced

• Triple 9 Review
• Tobias Lindholm Interview
• Aaron Paul Long Interview
• John Hillcoat Long Interview

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As is the case with Quentin Tarantino‘s The Hateful Eight, you’ll find no heroes in John Hillcoat‘s likewise numerically titled Triple 9, a solid, well-acted crime-thriller in which nearly all of its dozen-or-so main characters carry a badge, though about half of them are crooked. These slimeballs use their position in law enforcement as a guise for a big-time heist operation; their non-criminal counterparts on the force are bent on smoking out who’s behind the bank robberies as the perps hide in plain sight just one desk over. The “good cops” aren’t as straight-laced as you’d imagine, however: Policing the rough Atlanta streets keeps their skin and wits tough and their scary obsession with putting the heist-pullers away could put innocent people in danger.

By all accounts, it was Hillcoat’s name that first compelled the stacked, A-list ensemble to flock to the project, and it was the complex, unpredictable, multi-protag script that got them to stay. Each talent—Chiwetel Ejiofor, Kate Winslet, Casey Affleck, Woody Harrelson, Anthony Mackie, and the list goes on—makes a big impression; this is an ensemble piece through and through. But the egalitarian approach to the ensemble doesn’t work as well as it does in Hateful Eight or even Tom McCarthy’s Spotlight because the characters’ murky motivations, combined with the dizzying, often disorganized plot, make the experience as a whole a little hard to follow. There’s too much to keep track of, too little to latch onto.

A team of trained professionals led by Michael (Ejiofor) pulls off a bank robbery in the heart of Atlanta. They’re working (reluctantly) for Russian mob boss Irna (Winslet), who’s tasked them not with bringing her bags of loot but with retrieving a safety deposit box she needs to free her husband from prison. Jorge (Clifton Collins Jr., terrific as usual) and Marcus (Mackie) currently work as cops and Michael and Russel (Norman Reedus) are ex-Special Forces. These four are cool as cucumbers but Russel’s strung-out younger brother, Gabe (Aaron Paul) nearly causes the caper to go South. Going forward, as they resume their lives post-heist, the sloppy Gabe will more than likely become a liability and the rest of the team knows it.

Draped in woefully mismatched, fake-fancy garb, Irna is a welcome change from the familiar crime boss archetype, at least in tone and, of course, gender. Considering this role and other, villainous turn in the Divergent series, it seems the Oscar winner’s developing a taste for the wicked. She’s really good at it: The blood boils when we learn Irna’s holding Michael’s son—who also happens to be her own nephew (Gal Gadot plays his mom)—captive, blackmailing him to reassemble his team and carry out yet another risky operation, breaking into a Homeland Security facility of all places. To pull it off, the team resorts to using a “triple-nine” (code for “officer down”), distracting local law enforcement as they snatch Irna’s precious cargo in the shadows.

They need a good (unsuspecting) cop to be the “triple-nine” and Marcus nominates his new partner Chris (Affleck), who’s just transferred from another division. The new guy has just been branded a walking dead man by his own partner. One of the many x-factors in the scheme is Chris’ uncle (Harrelson) is a detective on the force himself and is leading a tireless investigation on Michael’s undercover gang. When the shit hits the fan and Chris sits in Marcus’ crosshairs, it’s amid a tornado of unexpected betrayals, murders and changes of heart that change the complexion of the “triple-9” altogether.

The plot’s too intricate and the dialogue is too expository to give the character work the clear focus it deserves. The performers are terrific and enrich their characters even when their screen time is woefully limited but one can’t help but wonder how much smoother the movie would flow with less attention dedicated to the plot. There’s no central character, after all, so every moment the actors get is incredibly precious. Fortunately, the actors make the best of their constraints, with each of their characters ultimately sticking in your mind in one way or another. None of them (besides Winslet) are playing against-type, so they all seem comfortable in their roles, which works greatly in the movie’s favor.

Aside from the acting, the movie’s greatest strength is the action sequences which, despite being preposterously elaborate and chaotic are presented with great care. The action is surprisingly easy to follow, and Hillcoat’s gift is that his set pieces, as they move briskly along through interiors and exteriors and different neighborhoods, simultaneously immerse us in the gritty surroundings and thrill us with expertly staged gunfights, foot-chases and fisticuffs. As far as the action is concerned, the presentation is slick, slick, slick. If only the narrative would take a few steps back and let the human drama and gunfire take more of the spotlight, Triple 9 could have been tremendous.

Perhaps for the entirety of his career, Aaron Paul will be tied to the iconic role of Breaking Bad‘s burnout-turned-meth-hero Jesse Pinkman. It’s something he’s thankful for: “I’m very blessed to have played an iconic character,” he says graciously. Since that landmark TV show, Paul’s stayed away from drug-addict roles for obvious reasons. But when he was presented with the script for John Hillcoat‘s ensemble crime-thriller Triple 9, he jumped at the chance to work with the director, despite the fact that he’d once again have to pick up a pipe on-screen.

The decision paid off: Paul is an absolute standout in a movie full of Hollywood heavy-hitters including Kate Winslet, Chiwetel Ejiofor, Casey Affleck, Woody Harrelson, Anthony Mackie, Gal Gadot, Norman Reedus, Clifton Collins Jr., and more. Playing a member of a gang crooked cops pulling off an elaborate, dangerous heist, the still-evolving actor makes every onscreen minute count, creating a character with dimension and depth in what’s essentially a series of quick glimpses. Looks like he’s continuing to hone the tools he sharpened opposite Bryan Cranston on that seminal show forever doomed him to be referred to as “bitch” by his adoring fans. “I gotta take it in stride, you know?”

In a roundtable interview, I spoke to Paul about Triple 9, which is out in theaters nationwide today.

You’re sort of unrecognizable in this movie. The hair, the strung-out-ness. How did you go to that place? It feels like he’s so out of his depth at this point in his life.
He’s going through a lot. It was kind of easy; it was just on the page. I think these characters were so well developed before I even attached myself. Before we even started, John gave us all a giant folder of information, a dropbox that just kept filling up every day with images that are impossible to erase from your mind. Decapitated heads…he wanted us to draw from our own knowledge.

He had me go on some ridealongs with the LAPD and I saw some pretty crazy stuff. We drove around East L.A. in a neighborhood I’ve never been to in my life. You just see how cops are viewed. We pulled over this guy whose girlfriend had just been shot. She was in the front seat, his mom was in the back seat. This was now his third strike because he had a loaded gun on him with the serial number scratched off. Things got pretty real. He was arrested went down to the station. They take off his shoes, he’s handcuffed to this bench, and they ask me if I want to go in and interview him. He has tattoos all over his face—scariest guy I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m like, “No…I don’t want to go.” There was no reason for me to go interview him but I did end up going in to talk to him. He ended up being a fan of Breaking Bad, which is pretty funny.

What was your reaction to the script and this idea of these characters pulling off a “triple 9?”
God, I loved this script. I knew with John holding the reigns it was going to be such a brutal telling of this story but in a grounded way. I didn’t know what “triple 9” meant before shooting this film but it absolutely makes sense. If someone wants to cause a distraction in the police force, that’s definitely the way to do it. I love the story.

Early in the movie, you and Norman have a pivotal scene together. I think it’s such an important scene because you have to establish a lot of the emotional stakes for what’s to come for those characters.
Norman and I have been friends for the past sixteen, seventeen years. It’s the first time we’ve worked together, and we’re playing brothers, so we already have that bond, that love there. That scene you’re talking about was an added scene we shot after we were done shooting. They wanted to do just that—raise the stakes, really let people know that these guys aren’t just friends; they’re brothers. They love each other. It was great. I love that scene.

There are similarities between this character and Jesse Pinkman. Do you feel constrained by how iconic that character is?
I definitely don’t see Jesse Pinkman leaving me anytime soon. I know for the rest of my life I’m going to be called “bitch.” I gotta take it in stride, you know? I’m very blessed to have played such an iconic character [on a] show that became a part of television history. He’s a part of pop culture. It’s all about trying to do something different from that guy. This is really the first role since that show where my character’s picking up a pipe. I get offered drug addict roles all the time, on a weekly basis. I just try to stay away from that. But this script was impossible to ignore. It was beautiful. And, of course, John Hillcoat was the first name I noticed before I started reading it. It was a great ride, but when [my character] picked up the pipe, I was like, “Aww…Does he have to do that?”

The movie felt a lot like Heat.
Yeah. Heat is one of those timeless films. I really hope Triple 9 becomes that. My father-in-law was so excited. “It was like Heat! It’s like Taxi Driver!” I agree with him. It’s one of those gritty, brutal, crazy films.

You’re an actor who acts with his whole body. I appreciate that. Is it something you think about when you’re on camera or no?
It just kind of comes with the territory for me. Every character’s a little different. The only similarity is that I tend to gravitate toward characters that are going through a lot, emotionally. I think emotions run through your entire body. You kind of put yourself in a situation and force yourself to believe in whatever’s going on and hopefully people buy it.

In Need For Speed you were at the head of the ensemble. For this movie, it’s more of an egalitarian mix. How are those experiences different?
[One’s] less work, less shooting days. But I love them both. I love the ensemble cast. There are twelve main characters in this film and everyone has such a pivotal part in the story. With Need For Speed, I was in almost every scene. It was a lot of work.

What about the next movie, Eye in the Sky? What’s it like going from playing a criminal in this movie to playing someone who’s straight-laced and in the military?
I do play the darker side of things. But I always try to bring some sort of heart to my characters. With Triple 9, he’s technically a bad guy but you feel for him. He has a line he will not cross and this is that line, so he’s desperate to stop it from happening.

He’s really the hero of the movie.
Finally, someone said it! [laughs] It’s great being the bad guy and it’s also great being the good guy.

Who’s an actor that would be a dream for you to work with?
Oh man, there’s so many. I think probably Daniel Day-Lewis. He’s my favorite actor, for sure.

How about actors who aren’t alive?
You’re really changing things up on me, man! I would love to work with Marilyn Monroe. She’s such an idol, such a legend. I’d just love to kind of hang out with her in between takes and see what she’s all about.

Studio-financed dramas based on real-life heroism stories are a dime a dozen. We’ve all seen a million of them and pretty much know beat-for-beat how they operate, which is pretty much the same way all Hollywood blockbusters operate. (“Here comes the part where the handsome white man beats impossible odds and saves everyone!”) One always hopes, when one of these incredible-true-story cash-ins comes along, that the filmmakers seize the opportunity they’re given and actually do something interesting and artful.

Regrettably, the opportunity is typically squandered, and such is the case with The Finest Hours, a decent dramatization that’s too restrained and measured to be interesting. A product of Disney, the Craig Gillespie-directed thriller is inspired by the efforts of a handful of Bostonian U.S. Coast Guard rescuers who save around thirty men from a ravaged oil tanker in the middle of the stormy North Atlantic. Such a story sets the foundation for the bevy of visual effects teams to go absolutely ham with digital rain and pummelling waves and sweeping views of raging sea storms. The CGI maelstrom indeed looks pretty impressive, but it’s all stuff we’ve seen before in other, better movies of the same ilk. Plus, oddly enough, despite the chaos surrounding our plucky heroes, it never quite feels like they’re in all that much danger.

In February 1952, an oil tanker was literally ripped in two by a winter storm off the coast of Boston, prompting the Coast Guard to deploy a sizeable team of their best to search for survivors. In a cruel twist of fate, a second tanker in the area, the SS Pendleton, was split in half as well. With the Coast Guard crew’s numbers severely diminished, just four men are sent on a small motorboat to somehow navigate the crushing, freezing waters and locate the Pendleton and its survivors.

They’re led by Bernie Webber, played by an unexpectedly wooden Chris Pine. Webber’s a man’s man, but he’s shy and mildly awkward, socially. Pine doesn’t find any depth within the character, which is a disappointment, though his co-stars feel similarly docile (Ben Foster, playing one of the four rag-taggers, is also uncharacteristically sleepy in his performance). Half of the movie follows what’s left of the Pendleton crew, a collection of archetypes embodied, again, by talented actors seemingly on cruise control. Casey Affleck plays the crew’s impromptu leader, Raymond Sybert, a sort of ship whisperer who devises clever plans to keep the Pendleton afloat until help comes. Raymond, like Bernie, is a softspoken outcast of sorts, their respective journeys parallel and largely flavorless.

We don’t know much about Raymond’s background, but we learn a lot about Bernie’s in the film’s open, which flashes back to the meet-cute between he and his sweetheart, Miriam (Holliday Grainger, who has the lovely look of a classic Hollywood starlet). When Bernie’s out on his impossible rescue mission, we occasionally check in on Miriam, who’s worried into a frenzy, taking much of her frustration out on Bernie’s commanding officer (Eric Bana). Grainger’s gifted, and maybe the nicest thing about the movie is that she’s given ample time to explore Miriam’s different colors of desperation and anger and denial.

The Finest Hours‘ issues really boil down to the fact that it moves forward in such a sleepy fashion that the stakes seem to evaporate into nothing as we watch the actors navigate the uninventive script (by Scott Silver, Paul Tamasy and Eric Johnson) without any vigor or enthusiasm. The generic, sweeping score is relentless in how it dictates the tone of the scenes before the camera or the actors are given a chance to, which is another added frustration. It’s an incredibly bloodless affair, and the ending is so protracted and full of pointless, long stares that I was absolutely itching for the thing to be over.

In the opening scene of Kenneth Lonergan’s Manchester by the Sea, Lee (played by the underappreciated Casey Affleck) asks his nephew Patrick (Lucas Hedges) who he’d rather have with him if he got trapped on a deserted island; his father Joe (Kyle Chandler) or his uncle. He chooses his dad. This hypothetical question sounds arbitrary at first, but it becomes vital to the story as the film progresses.

Jumping ahead several years to the present, Lee lives a lonely, emotionless life as a handyman for an apartment complex. Something tragic happened to him that caused him to be this way, and everyone around town has their own rumor about him. One day he receives a phone call from the hospital informing him that his brother has passed away. Lee learns that he’s now the parental guardian of his nephew, Patrick, even though it’s quite obvious he’s not able to handle that level of responsibility.

Through various flashbacks (sometimes it’s difficult to tell the past from present since Affleck doesn’t seem to age) it’s divulged Lee had a wife (Michelle Williams) and three young kids. Lonergan (Margaret, You Can Count on Me) carefully fills in missing parts of the story, one fragment at a time. Manchester by the Sea primarily focuses on the relationship between Lee and Patrick as they try to cope with various tragedies.

Nearly every aspect of Manchester by the Sea is expertly crafted. Lonergan demonstrates tremendous grace in all of the heartbreaking moments, an area where some filmmakers lay it on too thick. The cinematography and editing are terrific and, aside from an oddly placed Matthew Broderick appearance, the performances are as well. There’s a masterful scene late in the film between Affleck and Williams that’s so powerful it may leave you in tears. Manchester by the Sea is a revelation, a story about admitting defeat and dealing with consequences.

Rating:
8.5/10

When you consider Out of the Furnace is packed with a star-studded cast and a director who demonstrated outstanding talent in his previous film (Crazy Heart), it is disappointing that the biggest surprise of the film is just how underwhelming everything turns out. Much of the film relies on telling the audience how to feel rather than actually making an emotional impression. Scott Cooper’s atmospheric character drama greatly benefits from its cast, but its predictable narrative lacks too much ambition to allow for the characters to truly shine.

Right off the bat Out of the Furnace begins with a deplorable opening scene that lets you know what you are getting yourself into. The drug-dealing villain named Harlan DeGroat (Woody Harrelson) force-feeds a hotdog to his date at a drive-in theater before her screams are heard by others parked around them. One bystander comes to check on her, prompting Harlan to get out of the car and swiftly beat up the innocent man. There is so much commotion caused by all of this that everyone is pauses from watching Clive Barker’s The Midnight Meat Train on the outdoor screen to see what is happening. While the film never reaches the same level of spontaneity or pacing as this scene had, it does at least set a gritty tone from the very start.

The film centers around an off-duty solider Rodney Baze Jr. (Casey Affleck) who has racked up a great deal of gambling debt owed to John Petty (William Dafoe). Rodney’s older brother Russell (Christian Bale) just finished some prison time after a drunk driving accident caused a couple people their lives. Now Russell works at a mill in town and does what he can to help Rodney pay off his debts. Rodney insists on entering underground boxing matches to help with his debts, even though Russell practically begs him to get an actual working job. But Rodney’s stubborn personality prevails and eventually leads him to enlist in a high-stake fight that crosses paths with Harlan and his gang.

Although there are times when the characters express emotions, they are rarely ever felt. For example, it is easy to understand that their father’s passing would be difficult to deal with, yet the film does not do a great job with making the audience actually empathize with its characters. The same can be said about the subplot between Russell and his ex-wife (Zoe Saldana)—save for a brief moment later in the film. The other part of the problem is that the film does not spend enough time with the more stimulating characters such as Affleck and Harrelson, and instead we are forced to spend the most time with the inert Christian Bale.

The best assets of Out of the Furnace by a long shot are the performances from the talented cast members. Despite the script not allowing Bale’s character a lot of depth, he does a good job commanding the lead role when its needed—especially considering what he had to work with. While the fate of Affleck’s character was destined for destruction from the very beginning, he breathes life into the film that desperately needed it. The roles of Forest Whitaker and Salanda were so secondary that they were merely serviceable despite their commendable efforts.

While the beginning scene blindsides you with its unpredictable action, the rest of Out of the Furnace stays on the same level of excitement without any real surprises. Because of this, the second half of the film is only mildly interesting enough to keep watching. The slow and methodical approach works better when there is something to sink your teeth into as a viewer—this offers little more than some atmosphere and good acting. Unfortunately when the film does attempt to spice up its narrative with some minor “twists”, they end up not carrying the significant impact that they should.

Out of the Furnace 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.

Short Term 12

SXSW film-goers pegged this picture pretty well when they gave it the audience award a few months ago. Destin Cretin’s second feature in as many years is an honest crowd pleaser that leaves you feeling all warm inside. Brie Larson, in an exceptional dramatic turn, and a solid John Gallagher Jr., mentor a very good ensemble cast as the head staff at foster care facility named Short Term 12. Cretin skillfully reveals that the bright faculty of this care center emerged from a similar backgrounds as many of the children they oversee. He does so with a script that skirts the many clichés of a ‘troubled kids’ drama and renders his characters painfully clear. In a post-screening Q and A he admitted to working in a facility similar to the one depicted in the film and conducting hours of interviews with workers and children as research.

Short Term 12 often deals in extreme emotions and Cretin guides his actors skillfully into restrained performances, yet at times the filmmaking fails to follow suit. Too often the production sound falls to a dreamy silence as the music, an excellent score from young composer Joel West, pumps up the emotion when audiences are already right there with the film. So many recent filmmakers have adopted a “naturalist”, documentary, or handheld style that it feels like the new norm. It’s more shocking to see carefully executed dolly shots and classical editing than shaky close-ups in low lighting. In Short Term 12, Cretin with long time cinematographer Brett Pawlak, execute this style to a tee and allow their actors to shine. Cretin and his team craft a beautiful film about nontraditional families using traditional storytelling.

RATING: 8

Ain’t Them Bodies Saints

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 his film but fails to deliver even an ounce of the proposed excitement.

Full Review of Ain’t Them Bodies Saints

RATING: 5

In a World

Lake Bell, a lovely character actor, makes her feature debut as writer/director with the unique comedy In a World. She draws from an impressive Rolodex of friends, such as Children’s Hospital co-stars Rob Courdry, Ken Marino, and Nick Offerman. Bell delights in filling most of the cast with comedians who all excel in dramatic turns. In a World works because it is not just silly nonsense like many of this summer’s comedies, but a compelling father daughter story set in the goofy, yet interesting, niche world of Hollywood voiceover artists.

Bell plays, Carol, a shiftless layabout who specializes in voice coaching dialects because she thinks she cannot make it in the cutthroat would of voice acting, dominated by her father, Sam, played by the marvelous Fred Melamed. Sam seems comfortable to pass the torch to a younger voice stud named Gustav when studios revive the classic movie trailer phrase, “In a World…” for a new round of epic Hunger Games/Twilight-esque films, but Carol begins booking voice over gigs of her own and throws a wrench into this male dominated world. On paper the plot seems a bit trite, but the wealth of supporting characters, touching family drama, and beautiful performances all around make for a great time. Bell perfectly balances the laughs with the drama and never lets the story get too silly or too dire. She crafts a wonderful and heartfelt comedy that also addresses serious issues of family relationships and feminism in Hollywood yet remains entertaining throughout. I look forward to more films from Bell.

RATING: 7

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