Forget waiting for the weekend to bring in the heavy hitters, Mill Valley says “It’s Thursday. Let’s party!” And what better way to kick off an early weekend than with the stirring and emotionally sensational biopic of Stephen Hawking, The Theory of Everything. Already gaining significant accolade for his performance as Stephen Hawking, Eddie Redmayne was in attendance at the screening, and in the Q & A following the film was awarded the Mill Valley Award. The film comes to U.S. theaters November 7, and has already received our stamp of approval after seeing it at TIFF, but based on this early screening’s audience reaction, awards season competition should be plenty steep.

The Perfect Equation

[Ananda]

When the filmmaker of one of the best documentaries ever made, Man on Wire, decides to take on a narrative feature about one of the greatest minds of our time, viewers can breathe easy. There’s an appreciation for the full spectrum of a life story that a documentary director must possess, not to mention the patience that is requisite for such work. James Marsh does justice to not only Jane Hawking’s memoir, Travelling to Infinity: My Life with Stephen, but provides incredible insight into the mind of one of the consummate theoretical physicists and cosmologists in existence, while providing a stunning view into the life of an ALS survivor. You can keep your ice bucket challenges folks, just go see Theory of Everything and soak up the insight therein.

Eddie Redmayne is a pillar of disciplined acting, contorting his body, speaking with his eyebrows, and encapsulating the debonair nonchalance of pure genius. His Mill Valley award is well deserved and it’s practically a given he should expect more statues in the months to come. With an entirely different sort of performance that’s equally fantastic, Felicity Jones is the life and energy of many of the film’s scenes, depicting the determined young woman who fell in love with the mind of a genius and took on the challenge of ensuring he’d live long enough to continue his brilliance. It takes a special person to support a person of such intimidating intelligence. It takes a special person to care for someone with such a debilitating disease; it takes an extraordinary actor to depict all of that AND instill this person with true humanity and grace. Jones nails it.

This cast + this director + this story = an absolute success of a film. A perfect reminder of the limitlessness in all of us — those who are caretakers and those who suffer — and an ode to those who have the capacity for enormous thought in our society.

Long Distance Never Works

[Ananda]

It’s sort of hard to have sympathy for the relationship depicted in 10,000 Km after seeing a film like The Theory of Everything, where a couple is challenged by an absolutely crippling disease that will affect every day of their lives together. In Carlos Marques-Marcet‘s film the couple in question, Alex (Natalia Tena) and Sergi (David Verdaguer) are tested when Alex is offered a photography residency in LA, far from the couple’s established home in Barcelona. After much discussion, they decide the offer is too good to pass up, and it’s only for a year, so Alex heads to LA and the two maintain their relationship via the Internet.

The film made our Must See Indie list recently, and while Marques-Marcet proves his worth with some expertly crafted filmmaking — long takes with little editing, maintaining viewer interest for a movie that basically takes place in two apartments and the imagery of Google Maps — what the film lacks is some perspective. Alex and Sergi are clearly the passionate sort of couple who find their separation to be incredibly difficult based on the chemistry that has fueled their relationship (the film is bookended with some intense sex scenes). But that’s where the film goes astray. The implication of the film is that technology is an ineffective tool in maintaining a relationship — even one with years of history — and can indeed lead to further destruction when Facebook becomes a stalking mechanism and video sex isn’t personal enough. But in the case of this film it doesn’t seem that the technology is actually the destructive factor in Alex and Sergi’s relationship, instead its their own hubrises: Sergi’s controlling and insecure temperament and Alex’s inability to defend herself and communicate her wants. They end up where you’d expect, but not for the reasons the film tries to suggest.

Close Your Eyes And I’ll Kiss You

[Bernard]

Now, let’s brighten things up a bit after all that romantic tumult. A fun-loving road movie set on the beautiful coast of Spain in the ’60s, Living is Easy With Eyes Closed follows Antonio (Javier Cámara), an optimistic, compassionate school teacher on a quest to meet his hero, John Lennon, who’s reportedly filming a movie in Almeria. Winding down the picturesque coastal roads on his way to meet the Beatle he picks up two companions: Belén (Natalia de Molina), a pretty, pregnant twenty-something, and Juano (Francesc Colomer), a runaway teenager with a Beatles haircut. Together, the trio share good times as they make their way to a small village just outside the movie set, where the indomitable Antonio must figure out a way to infiltrate the set and meet Mr. Lennon.

Directed by Spanish filmmaker David Trueba, the film is exhilaratingly upbeat, a three-way buddy movie that doesn’t hesitate when it comes to being adorable. It would be a mistake to scoff at the film’s relentlessly positive energy; you must be willing to let go of pretension and open yourself up to the good vibes to get the fully appreciate the film’s message. Cámara, with his knowing smiles and gentle eyes, serves as the perfect tour guide for this sun-drenched Spanish adventure. Those expecting the film to be set to a playlist of Beatles songs will be slightly let down (this is an indie film, after all, and The Beatles equals big bucks), but may be surprised to find themselves having so much fun they won’t miss the Fab Four classics.

In I’m So Excited, Pedro Almodóvar’s first comedy in years, a wildly eccentric (crazy) group of passengers on a flight from Spain to Mexico are stranded in the air, as one of the plane’s landing gears is broken. Three fabulously gay flight attendants attempt to ease the passengers’ fears by keeping the mood light, in any way they can (they even bust out a choreographed dance number set to the titular Pointer Sisters tune), though the situation remains dire. As the passengers’ worries bubble over, rampant sex and cocktail guzzling ensue.

Javier Camara plays one of the determinedly upbeat flight attendants, Blanca Suarez, one of the only characters not on the plane, speaks to one of the passengers (her ex-lover) via telephone, and Miguel Angel Silvestre plays a horny newlywed who can’t contain his libido. The three stars took time to talk with us about Almodóvar’s methods, what it’s like to work on a tiny set, comedic mathematics, Spain in the ‘80s, and more.

Review of I’m So Excited

How was it working on such a tiny set?
Javier Camara: Pedro told me that we (Camara and co-stars Raul Arevalo and Carlos Aceres) were going to work on a plane as flight attendants, so we took classes for a month. We learned all the signals, learned to prepare food. [The airplane set was to scale], so the aisles were very cramped. We thought, “We’re going to be here for two months with Pedro Almodóvar!” It was crazy.

So training was two months?
Javier Camara: One month training, one and a half months of rehearsing with the cast, and two months shooting.

Rehearsal was very important for this film, yes? Can you talk a bit more about the rehearsal process?
Miguel Angel Silvestre: We rehearsed both off and on set. I think Pedro enjoys the rehearsals, and he likes to rehearse everything. If you’ve seen any of his films, it’s his own world, his own code of acting. The rhythm of the lines [is very important.] He’s very specific about what he wants, and the way to [give him what he wants] is a lot of rehearsing and trust, trust in someone to lead you. He wants a specific nonsense in his characters.

Javier Camara: The place gives you a lot of information about your character, too. You’re passengers, and you’re going to die. It’s funny–your seatbelts are fastened, so you have to play your character without any movement. You’ll be talking, but you can’t see the passengers behind you, so there’s a missing connection there. It’s a funny thing. Pedro was worried that the setting of the doomed plane was so sad that the film couldn’t be as theatrical as he wanted, and he’d have to change everything. But, the rehearsals were amazing, because you’re close to the other actors during your monologues, but at the same time, you’re alone in your place. You’re acting very desperate, but it’s also a crazy comedy.

Comedy is very difficult to pull off.
Javier Camara: Yeah. I had to be very over-the-top, very flamboyant, very “queeny”, very crazy. My character has to hide that there was a big problem on the plane, so I’m drinking the whole time. (laughs)

Can you speak a bit about Pedro’s unique knack for dialog? What’s his process, the method to his humor? There’s no one else like him.
Blanca Suarez: I think when Pedro begins to write a script for a film, he gets into the mind of each character, both the dark side and the light side. Even in a comedy, he’s aware that even though a character may be over-the-top, they also have to have a dark side. Sometimes, his instructions seem contradictory to us at first. He’ll tell you, “You’re happy, but you’re also very sad.”

Javier Camara: “You’re smiling, but you have a big problem.” If you want the audience to love these characters, you have to empathize with them. There has to be a balance. You have to hook the audience with some good qualities along with the bad.

Blanca Suarez: That’s life.

It’s funny you say “That’s life”, because Pedro’s films are very surrealistic.
Blanca Suarez: That’s life, too! (laughs)

The way Pedro gets you guys to deliver dialog is hilarious. What’s one of your favorite lines in the film?
Miguel Angel Silvestre: I remember one by Cecilia Roth. It’s like, “A woman, two sons” (trails off). I can’t remember it…

Javier Camara: I remember the scene. I’m drunk, and [I’m trying to calm down] Cecilia Roth: “Don’t worry, the captain is the best man to manage this trip.” She says, “Of course! With a woman, two sons, a lover, and the co-pilot fucking him, of course he controls everything!”

Miguel Angel Silvestre: I remember she was playing it one way, but Pedro wanted a specific intonation.

Javier Camara: There’s a specific rhythm that he’s going for. Comedy is mathematics—I constantly talk about that. There’s a rhythm that you have inside yourself. Pedro will tell you to take a breath [at an odd moment], which kind of breaks the rules, but it works. He gives you a lot of tools. Sometimes, actors don’t understand what he’s trying to tell them, but [his requests are practical.] He gives us the tools. Breathe. Count to three. Say the phrase. Pause. Look at him. Say the next phrase. It works! If you trust in Pedro, he’ll show you the way.

I’m So Excited is very theatrical…
Javier Camara: One day, I was shooting [the central dance number] with Carlos (Aceres), and he was being stupid. “Carlos! It’s not the right foot, it’s the left!” Pedro arrived, and he yelled at me. “What are you doing?! Are you directing my film!?” I said, “I’m sorry, Pedro. We’re supposed to start with the right foot, and he’s starting with the left!” He said, “Do you want to direct this film like it’s theater!” I remember we were talking for a couple weeks about making the film a play, because it’s the perfect theatrical play.

Blanca, your scenes are different because your character isn’t on the plane.
Blanca Suarez: My story is necessary because it gives you a breather. The audience is in this plane for a long time, and suddenly you’re on the ground, breathing the air, seeing the reality on the ground. It gives the audience a break.

Pedro makes a few statements about Spain in the ‘80s throughout the film.
Javier Camara: I think the film is an homage to Spain in the ‘80s. Now, Spain is very different. Pedro started making films in the ‘80s, and it was amazing, because Spain had just finished 40 years of dictatorship. There was a generation of artists, with Pedro at the head, invented a new kind of culture that connected with Luis Bañuel or Goya. They invented a very specific kind of Spanish cinema, talking about our reality, our past, and a huge, wide-open feature. This film recalls that liberty.

Returning to his absurdist comedy roots after taking years off, Pedro Almodóvar keeps it (mostly) playful with his unfiltered, druggy, cocktail-crazy sex party in the sky, I’m So Excited.

90 percent of the film is set on an airplane stranded in the clouds—one of the landing gears has been damaged (by the bumbling Antonio Banderas and Penelope Cruz in the film’s brief tone-setting prologue). The pilots search desperately for a solution for their dire predicament while three unflappably optimistic, gay flight attendants (Javier Camara, Carlos Areces, and Raul Arevalo, like a bitchy three-headed dog of fabulousness) attempt to keep the business class passengers’ spirits high despite the morbid situation that needles them. The economy class passengers? They’ve been drugged to sleep, ignorant of the impending danger (Almodóvar’s take on the Spanish proletariat).

Now, back to the business class folks. They’re a pill-popping, sex-starved freak show of sleaze. Lola Dueñas, an Almodóvar alumnus, plays a perpetually grinning 40-year-old-virgin psychic who can “smell death” and enhances her “powers” by groping a pair of male genitalia like a forklift driver. The rest of the weirdos include an assassin, a whore queen, and young newlyweds who have sleepwalk-sex right in their seats. “Shhhh!” the young husband—afraid his wife will be jostled from her sleep-state—snips to the vocally curious Dueñas, who is sitting right by them, fascinated by their lovemaking. From her inexperienced sexual perspective, she sees the couple’s amorous display as an impromptu sex-ed class. “What is it?!” the husband snips, hilariously, in between moans. “Are you doing it from the front or the back?” inquires Dueñas. That’s Almodóvar for you. Bawdy moments like this are plentiful and infectiously funny.

The film’s title refers to its brilliantly camp, wildly choreographed dance number performed by the three flight attendants, set to the classic Pointer Sisters tune. The trio is so committed to their flamboyance and semi-synchronized dance moves that you’ll be dying to jump into the screen, grab a Valencia cocktail, and join in on the fun. It’s joyously sloppy Cabaret.

Theatricality is the name of the game here, as all of the scenes on the plane feel like a filmed stage play (in a good, kinetic way, though not terribly cinematic). Almodóvar feels like early ‘80s Almodóvar, the guy who directed outlandish shock-fests like Pepi, Luci, Bom… This is a good thing, but while the in-your-face crudeness of his early work is very much present and potent here, the dramatic beats—there are more than you’d expect—don’t leave a lasting impression. The scattered tender moments (however melodramatic) are constantly elbowed aside by the gags, which are tastier and easily digestible. Even the parabolic commentary on Spain (something Almodóvar spends much time on) is overshadowed by the raunchy, “Fuck you, you’re gonna love this shit” humor. There’s a love story mixed up in here somewhere, but all I can think about is the scene when Lola Dueñas rapes a guy (gasp)!

Has Almodóvar’s filthy comedic mind lost its edge during his extended respite? No—his edge is sharp, and he’s still fiendishly provocative, no question. He had me constantly shaking my head in disbelief at the dirty things he got me to laugh at. What keeps I’m So Excited from being one of his very best is that the narrative threads running throughout the film, while ambitious and well-acted, ultimately add very little to the overall experience. Though the film’s half-hearted narrative is underwhelming, the rowdy airborne shenanigans, bitch-fest dialog, and irresistible cast will grab you by the face and give you a big smooch you won’t soon forget.