In Louder Than Bombs, Isabelle Reed (Isabelle Huppert) was a world-renowned war photographer who risked her life in pursuit of an endless string of perfect shots. She didn’t always come out of the war zone unscathed, but she always came out. It’s ironic, then, that despite surviving countless dangers around the globe, she wound up the lone fatality of a single-vehicle car crash in a cozy New York suburb. Three years later, a retrospective of her work is being organized, and her widowed husband Gene (Gabriel Byrne) has been tapped to display his wife’s photographs; he enlists the help of his grown son Jonah (Jesse Eisenberg).

Complicating matters is a New York Times piece set to be written in advance of the showing by Isabelle’s former colleague, war reporter Richard Weissman (David Strathairn). The piece will reveal that Isabelle’s car accident was no accident at all, but rather a suicide, something Gene is fully aware of. Not only would Gene prefer to keep a more positive memory of his wife at the forefront of the celebration in her honor, he would rather his younger son, the teenaged Conrad (Devin Druid), not know the truth about his mother’s death.

Louder Than Bombs, the first English-speaking film from Norwegian director and co-writer Joachim Trier, sets itself up to be a significant melodrama. All of the pieces are there and ready to be played.

There is Gene, the widower and father of two who, thanks to the retrospective being organized in his wife’s memory, must do more than face life’s small daily reminders of a love lost—he must immerse himself in the life she lived. He must look at every photograph she took and know that he’s seeing her life, a life she spent far away from her family, through her eyes. This takes its toll on Gene, which in turn takes its toll on how he handles his relationship with Hannah (Amy Ryan), his coworker and lover.

Next is Jonah, who is a lot like the old man and not just because they’re both teachers. When Jonah is faced with an event of overwhelming emotional magnitude, he also makes poor choices. In this instance, his wife Amy (Megan Ketch) has just given birth to their first child, but when the frazzled new dad scours the hospital halls for a vending machine, he runs into an old girlfriend. Their hug lasts almost as long as the lies he tells.

Conrad, whose life is challenging enough as a teenager without a mother, has all but disconnected himself emotionally from his father, opting to live in a world of loud music and online gaming. He’s awkward and introverted and everything one would expect from a 14-year-old in his situation, but he’s also undaunted in his secret love for his classmate crush, the cheerleader Melanie (Ruby Jerins).

Even Richard, the war correspondent, brings more to the story than just the byline on the revelatory posthumous profile of the revered photographer, wife, and mother.

Again, all of the melodramatic pieces are there, but much to his credit, Trier never plays those pieces the way most would expect them to be played. Instead, the filmmaker lets his characters progress through subtle developments that require the viewer to stay keenly attuned to the little things they say and do, rather than waiting for the next bombastic outburst to occur. A lot of that character progression is negative, but it’s genuine, and it’s fueled by the fatal flaws the trio shares—a wicked combination of denial, deceit, and dreadful communication. Watching them fool themselves and others isn’t like watching people spiral out of control and perish in a fiery crash. It’s more like watching people slowly dissolve. Only Conrad, despite (or perhaps because of) his youth, offers a glimmer of hope with his unflappable crush on Melanie and his refusal to be anything but the person he is. Husbands, fathers, and sons make poor choices that carry with them the potential for irrevocable consequences, and yet just like in real life, they can’t stop making those choices; it’s in their nature.

And what about Isabelle? She appears in flashback and in dreams, but she is more mystery than matriarch. Yes, she was a loving mother and wife, as well as a successful war photographer, but beyond that (and beyond the suggestion of depression), little else is known about her. This is a terrific move by Trier, because it maintains a sense of wonder about who this woman was and why she meant what she meant to the men in her life. To explain more would have done a disservice to the character. In the role, Huppert is mesmerizing, and Trier knows how to capture the best of her, including a long, lingering, dialogue-free close-up of Huppert as she stares down the camera, leaving you wondering what she is thinking about and hoping you’ll have the chance to learn.

The rest of the cast is excellent, anchored by an amazing performance by relative newcomer Druid as Conrad Reed. Byrne and Eisenberg may have (combined) decades more experience than Druid, but they need him to be great more than he needs them to be great, and he delivers.

Louder Than Bombs is a wrenching tale about the criticality of communication and the collateral damage of deceit in the wake of significant loss. The film has barely a false note in it, hardly a moment when a character says or does something that demands to be challenged, and only the ending left me disappointed as ringing somewhat hollow. Still, despite the questionable destination of the tale, the journey is completely worth it.

This week, CJ’s in conversation with writer/director Paul Taylor and producer Alex Megaro of Driftwood, which won the Grand Jury Prize for Best Narrative at Slamdance this year. Also, Bernard chimes in to share his thoughts on this weekend’s gigantic release, Batman v Superman. We all know by now that the Zack Snyder-directed superhero mash-up hasn’t been received well by critics, but Bernard breaks down exactly what goes wrong in this woefully misguided missed opportunity of a blockbuster.

Topics

• Indie Pick (1:32)
• Batman v Superman (5:02)
• Paul Taylor and Alex Megaro talk Driftwood (18:46)

Articles Referenced

• Driftwood Review
• Spinning Plates Review
• Batman v Superman Review

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Like Paul Bunyan, Bigfoot, and Pecos Bill, the heroes and villains of Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice are more mythical than super, writing a new page in American folklore as they split the skies with each thunderous blow. Director Zack Snyder‘s approach to DC’s now timeless characters is apt—few modern myths stand taller than Batman and Superman—but, as usual, the Watchmen and Man of Steel director gets lost in the grandeur, delivering a solemn, overly studied, slog of a movie.

The super-brawl promised in the movie’s title is as spectacular as anyone could have dreamed, but before we reach the main event melee, there’s a two-hour-long preliminary bout that sees Snyder pitted in a sweaty grappling match against complex themes of ideology and theology. Spoiler: he loses. Consequently, we lose too. By the time Batman and Superman (and a few surprise guests) get all bashy-bashy, stabby-stabby, we’re bored to tears by Snyder’s glorified lecture on man v god.

Henry Cavill returns as alien do-gooder Superman, who, at the story’s outset, is the subject of worldwide debate. His city-levelling battle with General Zod (Michael Shannon) at the end of Man of Steel cost the lives of thousands, calling into question whether his actions were justified and whether his presence on earth is a benefit or detriment to the future and well-being of mankind. Some see him as a messiah; others, an omnipotent pariah who could reduce our planet to dust should we refuse to bow down.

One man who has no plans of kneeling to “the Superman” is billionaire brooder Bruce Wayne (Ben Affleck). One of the buildings decimated by Superman and Zod was Wayne Enterprises, which toppled right in front of Bruce’s eyes, hundreds of his employees’ lives blinked out in what some would call “collateral damage.” It’s a tragedy that haunts Bruce almost as much as the memory of losing his parents to a mugger in that classic alleyway scene we all know so well from countless movie, comic book, and TV iterations of the Batman origin story (which Snyder mercifully zips through in the opening credits). The story picks up 18 months later, with the Bat keeping a watchful eye on the bulletproof Kryptonian as he patrols the skies, above all men and above the law.

Bruce and the rest of Superman’s detractors are given more fuel to feed their fire when more lives are lost during a rescue of his beloved Lois Lane (Amy Adams). A reactionary congressional hearing is held, calling for him to appear in court to consider the consequences and ethicality of his actions. As fear and paranoia surrounding the continue to spread, tech genius Lex Luthor (Jesse Eisenberg) offers a solution to the world’s Superman problem in the form of Kryptonite weaponry. All he needs is to get his hands on a chunk of the extraterrestrial rock, but his political maneuverings to do so are blocked by Senator June Finch (Holly Hunter, unexpectedly one of the movie’s strongest assets). As Superman is increasingly viewed as more of a threat than a savior, however, Luthor’s scheme begins to fall more easily into place.

For what seems like ages, Snyder and writers David S. Goyer and Chris Terrio bat around big ideas like the ever-evolving nature of homeland security and, most predominantly, the fraught relationship between man and god. The movie’s got the “god” part down: Batman, Superman, and the debuting Wonder Woman (Gal Gadot, a delightfully entertaining ass-kicker) come across as all-powerful goliaths, striking the most epic superhero poses this critic has ever seen (Snyder’s signature slo-mo, while as excessively implemented as ever, lends itself to characters of this magnitude).

As for the “man” half of the “man v god” thing, the movie drops the ball with an earth-shattering thud. The story’s obsessed with outlining the principles and lofty motivations of its heroes and villains without giving us a sense of what they are like as people. We’re so drowned in doom and gloom and planet-sized moral quandaries that we have no real grasp on what these heroes are actually fighting for. Clark’s got Lois and his mother Martha (a returning Diane Lane), and Bruce has got his butler Alfred (Jeremy Irons) and the memory of his parents, but all of these side characters are presented more as plot devices and pawns rather than living, breathing, relatable people. Snyder paints in such broad strokes that the nuances and details of our world are lost in the monstrous swirl of dark, folkloric imagery and ham-fisted dialogue.

When Batman and Superman finally fight, it’s so brutal and well-staged and irresistibly geeky that, while it doesn’t make up for the disastrous bulk of the movie that preceded it, it at least wakes us up from our stupor. Things get even better when Wonder Woman arrives to help them fight the Big Bad that eventually arrives to crash the party, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying the hell out of the climactic battle. If there’s a criticism, it’s that much of the dichotomous intrigue of Batman and Superman’s comic book confrontations is lost. When the two have battled on the page, the hook is that Superman should be able to crush Batman, but the fact that Bruce Wayne is not a good person (and is willing to cheat to win) gives him an unexpected edge. In the movie, Bruce is indeed a bad person; problem is, Clark doesn’t seem to be one either. He acts decidedly un-heroic on several occasions, flexing his super powers with a smug smirk on his face as he tosses Bats around like a ragdoll.

The character work is flawed all around, but this incarnation of Lex Luthor is the most confusing of the bunch. He’s more of a lunatic manchild cut from the same cloth as classic Bat-villain The Riddler than the imposing intellectual bully we’ve seen in the past. Is that a good thing? Sometimes. Eisenberg puts on a good, charismatic performance, and his wiry frame is an interesting visual juxtaposition to the heroes’ bulky physiques. But a part of me would rather have a supervillain who’s more menacing and less of a mischievous meddler.

Batman v Superman is a bonafide letdown, but the blame doesn’t rest on the shoulders of the actors. Everyone’s game and looks great, especially Cavill and Affleck, who are both black belts in the art of chin-jutting, come-at-me-bro machismo. Adams, Lane, and Irons are invaluable as they try valiantly to ground the story in some sense of realism. But alas, the script doesn’t give them enough room to work (the movie’s 153 minutes, for goodness sake). If the aim was to offer a more mature, “serious” superhero experience than Marvel Studios’ Avengers movies, Snyder and his team overachieved; this is as cynical, depressing, and emotionally hollow a blockbuster as we’ve seen in some time, a filmic representation of the adulthood misery that’s pushed the wonder of childhood fantasies out of the hearts of crotchety old-timers everywhere. Surely we were meant to have more fun than this.

There’s an inherent paradox when it comes to family: despite spending more time with your parents/siblings than anyone else, you’ll never get to truly know who these people are. Joachim Trier’s Louder than Bombs, his follow-up to the devastating masterpiece Oslo August 31, explores the collisions between the individual, subjective experiences of family members, along with the barriers of communication that can spring up between the people closest to you. The film starts approximately three years after the death of Isabelle Reed (Isabelle Huppert), a war photographer who took her own life by crashing her car. Isabelle’s husband Gene (Gabriel Byrne) and eldest son Jonah (Jesse Eisenberg) know the truth surrounding her death, but her 15-year-old son Conrad (Devin Druid) still thinks it was an accident. Now, with Isabelle’s former colleague (David Strathairn) planning to reveal the truth about her death in a piece he’s planning for the New York Times, Gene tries to tell the truth to Conrad while attempting to repair the relationship between his two sons.

Trier and co-writer Eskil Vogt continue to show off their strength as filmmakers when it comes to experimenting with form to accurately portrayal the thought process. The film frequently swaps perspectives between Gene, Jonah and Conrad, while also hopping back and forth through time to when Isabelle was alive. Through this, it’s apparent that each man has a different idea of who Isabelle was, and the way these differing interpretations intersect is when Louder than Bombs hits a level of specificity that creates some great drama. But when Trier decides to break away and show the stories of each individual—Gene’s secret relationship with one of Conrad’s teachers (Amy Ryan), Jonah’s fear of becoming a father, and Conrad’s crush on a cheerleader that’s out of his league—it falls into clichés that wind up making the film get lost within itself. It’s disappointing because, when Trier’s methods do work, he creates some heart-wrenching and sublime moments (an extreme close-up of a character staring the camera down will haunt viewers for days). If Trier had more moments like these, Louder than Bombs could have been the masterpiece it so obviously wants to be.

Now in its seventh year, BAMcinemaFest is once again kicking off the summer season with a wide variety of independent cinema from this year. While film fests happen throughout the year, there seems to be a flood of festivals in the winter/spring (Sundance, Berlin, SXSW, Cannes) and the fall (TIFF, Telluride, Venice, NYFF), leaving the summer season wide open for the most part. That’s what’s so nice about BAM; it acts as a nice bridge between the two major festival seasons, providing a nice selection of this year’s biggest highlights in independent cinema so far.

This year, the festival has gotten a hold of some big titles that we’ve all been eagerly anticipating since their premieres earlier this year. Opening the fest is James Ponsoldt’s The End of the Tour, with Alex Ross Perry’s Queen of Earth getting a Centerpiece slot and Sean Baker’s Tangerine closing the fest (keep reading to see our thoughts on two of these titles). But that’s only a small portion of the 35 films playing at BAM from this week until the end of June, and some of these films might be your only shot at catching them in theaters (but let’s hope they all get distribution of some sort!). The same goes for some of their excellent retrospective programming, which includes an outdoor screening of Richard Linklater’s Slacker and a 20th anniversary screening of Larry Clark’s Kids.

While we weren’t able to catch everything playing at BAMfest this year (we’ll see you soon enough, Queen of Earth and Krisha), we did get a chance to check out more than a few films that’ll be playing over the next two weeks. Read on to see our thoughts on what’s playing, and be sure to check out the full line-up and buy tickets over at the BAMcinemaFest website.

Call Me Lucky

For the first half of Call Me Lucky, Bobcat Goldthwait’s tribute to Boston comedy legend Barry Crimmins, it feels like a boilerplate documentary portrait. Complimented by talking head interviews with David Cross, Marc Maron, Steven Wright and Goldthwait himself, the documentary’s beginning details Crimmins’ roots as a rare liberal in his conservative upstate New York town to his status among the elite Boston comics and founder of the Stitches comedy club. Catalogued clips from Crimmins’ past shows a man whose timelessly hysterical satirical stand-up was far ahead of its time. Gradually, Call Me Lucky reveals its intentions to be significantly more altruistic, as it delves into a darker aspect to Barry Crimmins’ story. By the end, the film becomes a stunning look at a survivor’s story, and how a man changed his life to settle the demons of his past. This surprisingly emotional doc is not one to overlook. [Zach]

The End of the Tour

When iconic American author David Foster Wallace committed suicide in 2008, writer David Lipsky returned to the tape recorded interviews he conducted with Wallace for a planned 1996 Rolling Stone profile. Over the course of a few days at the end of Wallace’s book tour for Infinite Jest, the writers spent many long hours together in the snowy Midwest having a conversation that Lipsky would later describe as “the best one I ever had.” Indeed, their talks, as portrayed in The End of the Tour by Jesse Eisenberg (Lipsky) and Jason Segel (Wallace) are funny, poignant, and considered. Adapted from Lipsky’s 2010 book Although of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself, The End of the Tour continues writer/director James Ponsoldt’s (Smashed, The Spectacular Now) streak of empathetic, humanist stories that explore people struggling to cope with internal pains. This new film is like the best, most analytical late night sleepover talk. The rich, dialog-heavy The End of the Tour is completely engrossing, occasionally profound, and deeply moving. [Zach]

The Invitation

As far as horror films go, Karyn Kusama’s The Invitation is one of the best slow burns I’ve seen in years. Will (Logan Marshall-Green), still grieving after a tragic accident that destroyed his marriage 2 years ago, gets an invite out of nowhere from his ex-wife Eden (Tammy Blanchard) to join her and their old friends for a dinner party. Will hasn’t seen Eden or his friends since his marriage fell apart, but he goes with his girlfriend Kira (Emayatzy Corinealdi), hoping to reconnect and move on from the past.

From the moment Will arrives, things seem off to him, and as the night goes on he suspects that Eden and her new boyfriend David (Michiel Huisman) have something sinister in mind for him and the other guests. Kusama thankfully doesn’t make the central mystery about whether or not Will’s suspicions are valid (this is, after all, a horror movie). This is more about how and when things will go terribly wrong, and Kusama (along with cinematographer Bobby Shore) masterfully dangles the other shoe over viewers’ heads as they wait for it to drop. Every scene leading up to the exhilarating final act—which had me so involved I started yelling at the screen any time I disagreed with a character’s actions—is meticulously composed to increase the paranoia and dread exponentially with each passing moment. And once things finally take a turn for the worse, Kusama and Shore brilliantly betray their own form from the first hour, relying on frantic, handheld camera work and jagged cuts to amplify the tension. Their method works extremely well, and turns The Invitation into one of those rare delights where the payoff works just as well as the buildup. [C.J.]

Jason and Shirley

This low-budget biographical drama focuses on the day in 1966 when Oscar-winning filmmaker Shirley Clarke invited black gay hustler and drug addict Jason Holiday into her room at the Chelsea Hotel. She filmed Holiday for several consecutive hours as he told the story of his life, and the result was Clarke’s daring documentary Portrait of Jason, which was both hailed for its uncompromising look at many of the period’s most controversial social issues, and criticized for its exploitative nature. Jason and Shirley is a recreation of this day, and it consists primarily of intensely personal interview segments between actors Sarah Schulman and Jack Waters, who play the documentary filmmaker and her subject. The film’s brief 77 minute runtime is also intercut with short skit-like portions alternating between surreal depictions of Holiday’s fragile, drug-induced mental state and interactions with his friends of the time, including a heroin dealer and a fellow male prostitute. The intimate exchanges between Schulman and Waters come across as surprisingly genuine, which can be a difficult feat for biographical films. This one manages to transport its viewers into the past, and into the minds of its characters, rather smoothly, even though the more experimental aspects of the film, such as the insert skits, don’t work quite as well. In the end, Jason and Shirley is certainly worth spending just over an hour with; it’s the graphic nature of the content, rather than the quality of the filmmaking, that may frighten off some viewers. [Eli]

Nasty Baby

Nasty Baby is a bait-and-switch kind of movie, one that offers up a perfectly adequate story, only to pull the rug out from underneath audiences at some point in the third act with a dark tonal shift. Starring writer/director Sebastián Silva as a gay Brooklyn-based multimedia artist working on an exhibit of adults as babies, Silva’s Freddy gets extremely excited about the idea of becoming a father by artificially inseminating his friend Polly (Kristen Wiig); however, when Freddy’s sperm won’t take, he and Polly attempt to convince Freddy’s boyfriend Mo (Tunde Adebimpe) to become the donor. Freddy finds himself caught between Polly’s anxieties about her ticking internal clock, and Mo’s hesitation to launch himself into fatherhood. As it develops and introduces outside unsettling elements, Nasty Baby subtly builds the tension in its subplot until a climactic moment. Silva’s film serves as an intimate portrait of a group of characters that grow into family unit just in time to face an unthinkable challenge. [Zach]

Pervert Park

“Because of its subject matter, Pervert Park is a challenging watch, but one very much worth the effort. Over the course of the film’s lean 77-minute run time, the filmmakers find success in presenting their subjects as honestly as possible. They don’t ask for sympathy, but they do ask for consideration, and they earn it.” Read our full-length review of Pervert Park from Hot Docs earlier this year.

The Russian Woodpecker

If The Russian Woodpecker doesn’t turn out to be one of the most talked about documentaries of 2015, it will be a shame. Fortunately, the fact that it was awarded the Grand Jury Prize for World Cinema at this year’s Sundance Film Festival will likely help spread the word about this courageous and well-meaning work of nonfiction. The focus of the film is a man by the name of Fedor Alexandrovich who uncovers a terrifying theory regarding the potential true cause of Ukraine’s 1986 Chernobyl disaster. However, this is less a film about conspiracies, and more about how the notion of “conspiracies” can impact a person’s relationship with their friends, their family, their country and even themselves. Throughout the duration of its concise runtime, The Russian Woodpecker shifts from being a detailed history lesson to a political mystery to a character study of a man, his paranoia and his national pride. Crisp cinematography and sharp editing aside, this film is essential viewing for anyone interested in international politics or, as Alexandrovich himself would describe it, the ever-present ghost of the Soviet Union. [Eli]

Stinking Heaven

Taking place in 1990 and shot on Betacam video, Nathan Silver’s experimental Stinking Heaven feels like an ideal guide for showing off how improvisation can help and hurt a film. Silver’s film takes place at a New Jersey home, where married couple Jim (Keith Poulson) and Lucy (Deragh Campbell) host a group of people who, like them, are trying to overcome their battle with addiction. From the outset, the living situation is a fragile one, and with the arrival of a new member named Ann (Hannah Gross), the group dynamic turns into a toxic one.

Silver actually had his cast live together on set during the entire length of shooting, and let everything play out through improvisation. When this method works, Silver and his ensemble produce some remarkable results, giving the film a visceral energy that couldn’t be created through more conventional means. But for every sublime moment, there’s another that feels like watching an awkward actor’s workshop. It’s hard to shake the feeling that a lot of Stinking Heaven is a work in progress, as if we’re getting a glimpse into the cast beginning to explore their own characters. It’s an interesting combination of intensity (some scenes here can give Heaven Knows What a run for its money) and uncomfortable histrionics, one that works in fleeting glimpses, but it’s enough to see that Silver is working towards something special. [C.J.]

Tangerine

Filmmaker Sean Baker’s third feature Tangerine is a hilarious, raw glimpse into the lives of characters rarely depicted with a comparable level of complexity. This chaotic, colorful, vulgar adventure through the grimy streets of Hollywood follows two transgender prostitutes, Alexandra and Sin-dee (Mya Taylor and Kiki Rodriguez, respectively), as they spend their Christmas Eve tracking down Sin-dee’s cheating boyfriend and pimp, Chester (James Ransone). It’s the day after Sin-dee’s been released from jail, and as soon as Alexandra lets Chester’s infidelity slip while the two eat donuts, Sin-dee is out the door pounding the pavement in search of answers. Baker swiftly cuts from scene to scene keeping the pace of his film at a dizzying high. It’s a ridiculous amount of trashy, lurid fun to spend time in the company of these precisely drawn characters. Their sharp quips and flair for melodrama make Tangerine consistently entertaining. [Zach]

Uncle Kent 2

Remember Uncle Kent? No? That’s understandable, considering it was one of six films Joe Swanberg made back in 2011. The film was a funny, melancholy look at its title character (writer/animator Kent Osborne, playing himself) as he spends an awkward weekend with a woman he met on Chatroulette. Now, over 4 years later, Osborne wants to make a sequel, and in a meta opening sequence—directed by Swanberg, with directing duties for the rest of the film handled by Todd Rohal—Swanberg rejects Osborne’s pitch because he hates sequels. Swanberg does allow him to find someone else to make the sequel though, and in a matter of minutes the aspect ratio changes (from full-screen to widescreen) and Osborne starts jiggling his man boobs over the credits.

If you’re like me and find the idea of making a sequel to a barely seen micro-budget indie funny (a decision made even funnier by its recklessness, considering it guarantees almost no one will want to release it), Uncle Kent 2 is the film for you. The fact that this sequel owes little to the original means that Rohal and Osborne (who wrote the film) have carte blanche, and they make the most of it. Uncle Kent 2 continually makes one surreal and hilarious turn after another, starting with a weird visit to the doctor (Steve Little, who seems incapable of being unfunny) before involving Ray Kurzweil, Comic-Con, simulation theory and an apocalyptic scenario where people get datamoshed to death. It all amounts to a bunch of zany, frequently funny nonsense that will probably end up being the best sequel of this year (a specific honour befitting a film that’s all about specificity). Uncle Kent 2 is the sequel none of us knew we needed, and even though I can’t believe I’m saying this, I can’t wait for Uncle Kent 3. [C.J.]

Unexpected

After seeing the absolutely embarrassing treatment of Earl in Me and Earl and the Dying Girl—a stereotypical African-American character whose only purpose is to help the white, male protagonist become a better person—Kris Swanberg’s Unexpected feels like a breath of fresh air. The film opens with Samantha (Cobie Smulders), a Chicago high school teacher whose workplace is about to shut down, discovering she’s pregnant. It’s unplanned, but she decides to keep it, and soon finds out that Jasmine (Gail Bean), one of the best students in her class, is also expecting. Samantha decides to help Jasmine try to continue pursuing college applications, and the two strike up a bond.

It sounds like yet another mushy white saviour story that Sundance audiences eat up, but Swanberg and co-writer Megan Mercier have enough awareness to call out and avoid the pitfalls their story could fall into. Jasmine doesn’t turn out to be the poor, helpless student Samantha thinks she is, and Swanberg goes a long way to developing Jasmine into a fully-rounded character who really doesn’t need Samantha’s help. Smulders gives a fine performance (although it doesn’t match her excellent turn in Results from earlier this year), but the film’s MVP is Bean, who has an electric presence any time she’s on screen. Unexpected’s low-key nature might make it come across as slight, but it’s a surprisingly accomplished and slightly subversive take on a story that could have easily turned into something far worse. [C.J.]

A Woman Like Me

“Describing A Woman Like Me to an outsider gets a little complicated. When put as simply as possible its a documentary made by director Alex Sichel, who upon receiving the news that she has metastatic breast cancer decides to process this information by directing a film about a woman facing the same diagnosis with as much positivity as she can…while simultaneously documenting this process and her own treatment for what would become this documentary. It’s not quite a movie within a movie so much as it is two movies playing out side by side with behind-the-scenes footage playing at the same time as well. Confusing? Yes. Meta? Maybe. Moving? Absolutely.” Read our full-length review of A Woman Like Me from SXSW earlier this year.

In reaction to a leak to file-sharing sites on Thursday, Warner Bros. released the official HD version of the Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice trailer Friday afternoon.

Though it frankly isn’t the most exciting thing in the world (it’s pretty dour, actually), the trailer drops some significant clues regarding the film’s central conflict, which is likely ignited by the cataclysmic battle that capped off Man of Steel. The world seems divided on the hot topic of the red and blue alien from Krypton, some christening him a savior, others renouncing him as an untrustworthy totalitarian.

In a sonic collage of Superman-related sound bytes, we hear the voices of real-life figures outlining the implications of the hero’s existence, Neil Degrasse Tyson being the most notable of all. “We’re talking about an alien whose very existence challenges our own sense of priority in the universe.”

Though Clark probably isn’t comfortable atop the messianic pedestal the world’s put him on, he nonetheless appears to have most of the world groveling at his feet. There are clearly dissenters, though, as is evidenced by the shot of a statue of Superman at the beginning of the trailer, the words “FALSE GOD” painted across his chest by non-believers.

The biggest non-believer of them all, it seems, is Bruce Wayne, played by Ben Affleck. We get a good look of Bat-fleck in the Bat-suit (glowing eyes and all) near the end of the trailer as he stares up defiantly at Henry Cavill‘s Superman, hovering overhead in the middle of a lightning storm. It all looks epic and badass as hell, but you know what? The Man of Steel trailer looked awesome, too. So…maybe we should take a cue from Larry David and curb our enthusiasm.

In the comics, the reason Batman would often best Superman when they did battle pertained to their moral make-up: Clark Kent is a good person; Bruce Wayne is not. Clark, knowing he could crush Bruce with his pinky, holds back his punches, while Ol’ Bruce-y is never above cheating (i.e. shoving Kryptonite shanks into Clark’s ribcage) to gain an advantage. It’ll be interesting (nerve-racking) to see how director Zack Snyder plays with this dynamic. “Tell me, do you bleed?” Batman threatens near the trailer’s end. “You will,” he promises. Sounds good to me.

We’ve still seen little to nothing of the rest of the super-powered and super-evil ensemble cast, including Gal Gadot‘s Wonder Woman, Jason Momoa‘s Aquaman, Ezra Miller‘s Flash, Ray Fisher‘s Cyborg, and Jesse Eisenberg‘s Lex Luthor, though I’m willing to bet we’ll get a good look at them in the coming months. Until then, we’ll just have to wait until the film arrives on March 25th, 2016 to see how in the hell they’re going to cram introductions to all these gigantic heroes in one itty bitty movie. Check out the trailer below.

In a press conference yesterday the San Francisco Film Society announced the complete lineup for the 58th annual San Francisco International Film Festival, running from April 23rd – May 7th. Festival Executive Director Noah Cowan led the presentation, emphasizing SFFS’s mission to champion films and filmmakers from around the globe.

“I think this festival doesn’t get as much credit as it’s due as being among the most significant champions of emerging filmmakers from around the globe,” said Cowan at the press conference. “There’s a lot of focus right now in the festival world on American independent cinema. There’s lots of great stuff going on here, but sometimes it happens to neglect the quite extraordinary artists coming from other parts of the globe.”

Emblematic of the festival’s initiative to spotlight films on a global scale is its “Global Visions” section, which boasts an array of narrative and documentary films from Japan (Wonderful World End), Brazil (The Second Mother), Germany (Stations of the Cross), China (Red Amnesia), the United Kingdom (Luna), South Korea (A Hard Day), France (Fidelio: Alice’s Odyssey), New Zealand (The Dark Horse), and many more countries with exciting, emerging filmmakers and films worthy of our undivided attention. Also celebrating global storytelling are the Golden Gate Award Competitions, in which will award films from around the world nearly $40,000 across 14 awards categories.

The festival’s “Marquee Presentations” section takes a look at some buzzy titles from the festival circuit. Highlights include Eden, Mia Hansen-Løve’s French DJ drama starring Greta Gerwig and Brady Corbet; Best of Enemies, Morgan Neville and Robert Gordon’s doc about Gore Vidal and William F. Buckley Jr.’s legendary 1968 televised debates; Results, Andrew Bujalski’s awkward comedy starring Cobie Smulders and Guy Pearce as personal trainers; Francois Ozon‘s latest drama, The New Girlfriend; and What Happened, Miss Simone?, Liz Garbus’ piercing doc about legendary vocalist Nina Simone.

The festival will open with lauded documentarian Alex Gibney‘s Steve Jobs: The Man in the Machine, which should be a perfect kick-off for the Bay Area audience. The End of the Tour, James Ponsoldt’s follow-up to The Spectacular Now, is the fest’s Centerpiece presentation, while Michael Almereyda’s biopic Experimenter, starring Peter Sarsgaard as scientist Stanley Milgram, will be the Closing Night Film.

Late additions to the festival lineup are still rolling in, but three additions confirmed are Alfonso Gomez-Rejon’s Sundance darling Me and Earl and the Dying Girl, Patrick Brice’s uncomfortable comedy The Overnight, and Helen Hunt’s Ride.

Special awards will be handed out to two of the industry’s most enduring luminaries. Guillermo del Toro will be in attendance to receive the Irving M. Levin Directing Award, and Richard Gere will be on-hand to receive the Peter J. Owens Award. Also receiving awards are documentarian Kim Longinotto and film translator Lenny Borger.

For the complete lineup, visit www.sffs.org

A few years ago, Jesse Eisenberg was regarded by many (especially in the mainstream) as a less famous alternative to Michael Cera, the other squeaky-voiced, wimpy white kid taking over theaters nationwide. They’re both naturally likable and unassuming, and they embody awkward better than almost anyone else. Recently, however, Eisenberg has emerged as the more well-rounded, powerful performer of the two, exhibiting an ability to draw audiences in with his piercing, thoughtful gaze and pulling ahead of Cera in both popularity and cinephile cred. He’s proven he can elicit both laughs and gasps, and that versatility is put to the test in The Double, a stylish Dostoyevsky adaptation by Submarine director Richard Ayoade in which the young actor is tasked with portraying two radically different fellows who (as the film’s title indicates) look identical.

Simon, the film’s frail protagonist, is a hard-working office drone and total pushover. He’s utterly unremarkable in every way, to the point where his colleagues struggle to remember his name and the security guard at the entrance sternly insists he sign in as a visitor, despite the fact that he’s worked there for seven years. “Seven years…” he pitifully protests, almost inaudibly. No one cares. No one sees him. He’s trampled on by everyone and everything because his spine is made of Jell-O.

On the other side of the spectrum in every regard is James, a cocky new hire who the other workers (particularly of the opposite sex) worship almost immediately. Simon’s ignorant, dismissive boss Mr. Papadopoulos, played by Wallace Shawn doing his typical Wallace Shawn thing, is thrilled with James’ “work” (which he makes Simon do for him like an elementary school bully would), and insists that Simon is slacking and should be more like him. The role of James, like Eisenberg’s turn in The Social Network, allows him to tap into the enigmatic, articulate, dominating side of his persona that earned him the iconic role of Lex Luthor in Batman Vs Superman. He’s small in stature, yet positively menacing due to his formidable intellect and capacity to use it as a lethal weapon.

The world Ayoade and his crew have built around Simon and his nemesis resembles a steampunk version of Brazil, with flashes of George Orwell, Orson Welles, and David Lynch influence strewn throughout. The sets are darkly imaginative and slightly magical, and Ayoade invites us to drink up the luscious, shadowy imagery with him. He relishes photographing his bronze dystopia, with its typewriters, old-fashioned diners, telescopes, and endless dark corridors. The film is bathed in a sickly yellow light, which is unsightly at first but earns its welcome when you realize it provides a visual density and richness.

As a corporate satire, the story is simple but expressionistic, never allowing us to plant our feet firmly in the realm of reality. This type of alter-ego tale is unquestionably familiar (though it hasn’t ever lost its potency in cinema), but Ayoade mixes in so many trippy substances that it gives the formula a fresh coat of sludgy black paint. A glaring issue is that Simon is so completely hopeless and sad that it’s hard to attach to him, or at least it’s uncomfortable to. There’s an emotional distance to the film that persists to the very end.

We get our first good look at Simon’s angel-blonde office crush Hannah (Mia Wasikowska) bathed in the heavenly blue light of a giant humming printer (very Lynchian). She, like everyone else, has no idea who Simon is, but she takes a quick liking to the confident, fun James, who exploits Simon’s inferiority complex to get closer to Hannah. “I know what it feels like to be lost and lonely and invisible,” he confesses to James, a sentiment the sneaky devil uses to steal Hannah’s heart. Everyone…hell, the entire universe seems to be conspiring to make Simon’s life miserable, and he feels worthless. How will he take his career, his dream girl…his identity back? “I exist!” he cries in desperation in a crowded room of staggered co-workers.

Simon and James play perfectly to Eisenberg’s strengths, and he proves again why he’s one of the most seasoned young stars in the industry. His scenes with himself are improbably the film’s most engaging, though that’s not to discount his excellent supporting cast. The film is very funny, though that probably won’t be everyone’s ultimate takeaway. The “everyone hates Simon” gags are hilarious, timed and edited perfectly for comedic effect. (An early bit in which Simon makes a feeble attempt to move past two men on his way out of a subway car is sublime). The refined humor will probably get lost in all the drippy atmosphere and heightened style, but whether that’s an issue or not depends upon your expectations.

The Double trailer

Noah Cowan has only been San Francisco Film Society Executive Director for about ten weeks, but in that short stay his presence has lit a fire under an already lively film community. Last night, at the Closing Night screening of Alex of Venice at the Castro Theatre, Cowan addressed the crowd from the same podium he did when festival began two weeks ago, thanking Programming Director Rachel Rosen and her team for putting together a fantastic lineup of films, thanking the festival staff and volunteers for their hard work, and thanking the audience for partaking in the festivities. His enthusiasm for the future of the festival and SFFS–community building, educational programs, the fall Cinema By The Bay series–was echoed by the buzzing crowd. The future looks bright for the longest running film festival in the Americas.

Rosen then took the stage to introduce the night’s guest of honor, actor Chris Messina (The Mindy Project), whose directorial debut Alex of Venice would close out the festival. Also in attendance were stars Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Don Johnson, and Katie Nehra (who also co-wrote the screenplay), and producer Jamie Patricof. A soul-searcher family drama, the film follows Winstead’s Alex, an environmentalist attorney so preoccupied with work that her husband (Messina), feeling neglected and trapped as a stay-at-home dad, takes a sabbatical from the family, leaving Alex to take care of her aging actor dad (Johnson) and ten-year-old son (Skylar Gaertner).

Winstead is given a lot to work with in the role of Alex, as the material requires her to explore myriad colors of emotion as a mother overwhelmed by a sense of abandonment, isolation, a scattered home life, and a hefty workload. She rises to the occasion and emerges as the film’s greatest asset. Johnson, who’s been enjoying a second wind career-wise as of late, is on the money as usual, but it would have been nice to have seen a few more layers of texture added to his character in the unpolished script, which gets hung up on family drama tropes every time it starts to build a bit of momentum. Messina shows major promise as a director, and with a couple more films under his belt could be great.

Also screening on the last night of the festival across town at Sundance Kabuki Cinemas was Kelly Reichardt’s latest, Night Moves. Jesse Eisenberg (in his second festival appearance, the first being The Double) and Dakota Fanning play Josh and Dena, a pair of environmental activists who, with the help of an ex-Marine accomplice named Harmon (Peter Sarsgaard), blow up a dam in Oregon, and then wade through the dark world of paranoia, guilt, and suspicion that descends upon them following their extreme, costly actions.

Reichardt, lauded for minimalist, meditative pictures like Meek’s Cutoff and Wendy and Lucy, has fashioned a dark psychological thriller in Night Moves, her most accessible film to date. She still gives her actors a football field’s worth of emotional ground to cover with understated, revealing long takes and deceptively deep dialogue, but compared to how hushed her previous efforts were, this film seems to move along briskly. Some of the night time photography is bone-chillingly gorgeous, and this may be Reichardt’s most visually refined film to date, but the script slips off the edge in its third act, providing little food for thought. Still, we’re still left with the thick, atmospheric imagery and fine performances to chew on, which is more than enough to warrant a watch.

I Origins the latest effort from Another Earth director Mike Cahill, takes an excellent, heady sci-fi premise and mucks up the execution, resulting in a disappointingly half-hearted picture. We follow Dr. Ian Gray (Michael Pitt), a young scientist with an obsessive  fascination with eyes and their origins. His life’s work is to end the debate between scientists and religion by proving that eyes are a product of evolutionary development, not Intelligent Design. He takes close-up photos of people’s eyes regularly, and meets the love of his life (Astrid Berges-Frisbey) at a party while using the eye-photo line as an icebreaker. She’s a spiritual soul, though, and isn’t on the same page when it comes to his work in the lab, unlike his lab assistant (Brit Marling), who with Ian unlocks a mystery that could change the world.

Far-fetched isn’t always a bad thing, especially when it comes to sci-fi; unbelievable plots can work as long as the drama is convincing and the filmmaker convinces us to invest in the characters’ plight. Cahill falls short in this regard, beating the spirituality vs. pragmatism drum too loudly stretching the one-dimensional characters so thin you begin to wonder where the story is going with all the scientific jibber-jabber and rudimentary existential debates. After the film’s predictable, overwrought, dud of an ending, it’s unclear what exactly the film is trying to say. What’s the big idea? There’s some poignant statement or metaphor buried underneath the piles of pseudoscience jargon and fleeting moments of serendipity, but Cahill fails to mine it.

In Submarine director Richard Ayoade’s stylish Dostoyevsky adaptation The Double, Jesse Eisenberg impresses yet again in a dual performance as Simon, a pushover office drone, and his cocky, better-in-every-way doppelganger James. Though Simon has worked at the office for seven years, no one seems capable of remembering him, due to his socially awkward, subservient nature. New hire James–who looks and dresses exactly like Simon–begins to take over the office and bend their co-workers to his whim (including Simon’s crush played by the radiant Mia Wasikowska), Simon finds himself so trampled and transparent he might as well be nonexistent.

The film resembles a steampunk version of Terry Gilliam’s Brazil, while also paying homage to myriad other weirdo auteurs like David Lynch and Orson Welles. Eisenberg is the perfect choice for the role(s), exuding the pitiful weakness of Simon and the brash dominance of James with equal adeptness. Ayoade’s taken a surprising turn following up Submarine, an entertaining teen comedy, with a dark, brutal, depressing film like The Double, but he proves he’s more than capable of handling such artfully ambitious material. The fact that the film is clearly derivative but feels uniquely Ayoade’s on the same token is astonishing.

One of the best singer-songwriters of a generation is given the tribute treatment in Nickolas Rossi’s Heaven Adores You, an intimate, revealing music doc about the life and art of indie legend Elliot Smith which made its world premiere at SFIFF57. Rossi, also an experienced DP, marries Smith’s hauntingly earnest music and lyrics with incredibly cinematic footage of Portland, the city synonymous with Smith’s legacy. Using a collection of photos, videos, and accounts from the people closest to the soft-spoken Smith, the film follows his story from childhood, through his prolific music career in which he moved millions, to his untimely death in 2003 to unexplained stab wounds.

Instead of following the tabloid route and sensationalizing the mystery of Smith’s death, Rossi lets the music dictate the form of the film. There’s a prevalent sense of Smith’s presence throughout the film, something most music docs are sorely missing. Audio of Smith’s guest appearances on radio shows has the chilling effect of making it feel as if he’s sitting right next to you, talking into your ear. Fans will be delighted at the tastefulness of the production, while the uninitiated will find a well-crafted introduction into the life and work of one of the greats.

The movie poster for Of Horses & Men is a hilarious head-scratcher: A depressed-looking man (Ingvar E. Sigurdsson) is mounted on a white-haired horse, head down in despair, as a black stallion takes his steed from behind. It doesn’t become clear just how emblematic the poster is until you’ve immersed yourself in Benedikt Erlingsson’s off-kilter, picturesque exploration of the bestial equity between man and horse. Later on, he mirrors the shocking horse-sex scene with one involving humans; surprisingly, the latter is no less cringe-worthy, and that’s sort of the point.

Erlingsson seamlessly weaves together a collection of short film-sized stories that take place in a small, horse-dependent village in Iceland. The quirky vignettes are comedic, grotesque, and strangely beautiful. In one, an alcoholic rides his horse into the ocean to catch a passing Russian boat and secure a jug of unearthly strong vodka. Another follows a Spanish tourist (Juan Camillo Roman Estrada) as he gets lost in the snow overnight with his horse and wrestles with the idea of resorting to the classic “Tauntaun” method of survival. What bumps the film up from minor to major achievement is its expert cinematography, which captures the majesty of horses unlike any movie I’ve seen, while capturing the stunning Icelandic landscape just as well. The film feels like a Nat-Geo special gone horribly wrong, in the best, left-field way possible.

In Jeremy Ambers’ Impossible Light, the first-time filmmaker follows the conceptualization, design, and construction of the gigantic piece of public art known as The Bay Lights. The project, dreamed up by Illuminate the Arts founder Ben Davis and designed by light artist Leo Villareal, had a crew of intrepid workers brave great heights, stringing thousands of LED’s up and down the suspension cables of San Francisco’s utilitarian western span of the Bay Bridge, sometimes under punishing weather conditions. That wouldn’t be the team’s biggest hurdle, however, as navigating a serpentine process of acquiring permits and raising funds almost squashed the project before they could hit the “on” switch.

Ambers takes the time to highlight the smallest details of the giant production, from the design of the clamps that hold the lights in place to the strategic placement of the lights themselves (so as not to distract on-bridge drivers). This attention to detail is fascinating and impressive, considering the 70 minute runtime. Ambers was essentially a one-man film crew, climbing to the bridge’s highest point with a camera strapped on, and the resulting footage is spectacular (and harrowing). In reality, there was no human antagonist vehemently opposing the project, but Ambers does his best to create a sense of urgency without the benefit of a human conflict angle. An uplifting film for a universally inspirational work of public art.

Tomorrow night, the 57th annual San Francisco International Film Festival (April 24-May 8) kicks off its program of 168 films representing 56 countries. Seeing every film in that span of time is a veritable impossibility (though San Francisco is full of sun-depraved cine-maniacs ready to jump at the challenge), so we’re going to take a look at some of the highlights in the festival’s catalog for anyone planning on hopping over to the Bay Area and joining in on the fun.

Opening up the festival tomorrow night at the Castro Theater is Hossein Amini’s The Two Faces of January, a Greece-set suspense thriller starring Kirsten Dunst and Viggo Mortensen, an American couple on holiday who find themselves inextricably linked to a shifty tour guide (Oscar Isaac) after a fatal accident in a hotel room forces them to frantically find a way out of the country. Evoking Hitchcock’s touristic action-romance romps, the film should send the festival on its way nicely.

Speaking of being on holiday, Michael Winterbottom’s The Trip to Italy (pictured above) looks to walk on the lighter side of vacationing. A sequel to 2011’s The Trip, the film stars English funnymen Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon playing inflated versions of themselves as they, like in the first film, take a culinary tour of expensive restaurants, making each other chuckle along the way with improvised chatter and–of course–spot-on Michael Caine impressions.

On the darker side of traveling lies Kumiko, the Treasure Hunter, about a sociopath Japanese office assistant who flies to Fargo, North Dakota in search of a buried treasure she glimpsed in the famous Coen Brothers movie. For some reason, she believes a suitcase full of money buried in the snow by Steve Buscemi in a fictional movie exists in real life…and that totally piques my interest for some reason…

The film that’s got me frothing in anticipation more than any other is Night Moves (pictured above), by ridiculously talented writer/director Kelly Reichardt (Meek’s Cutoff, Wendy and Lucy). It’s a safe bet that, like her previous films, we’ll be treated to a smorgasbord of deliciously cinematic imagery to support a wholly unique script (set, as in all her previous efforts, in Oregon). The political thriller stars Jesse Eisenberg and Dakota Fanning as environmentalist lovebirds who, with marine veteran Peter Sarsgaard, hatch a plan to blow up a dam. This one looks to be a less contemplative and more narrative-driven movie than we’re used to seeing from Reichardt, which excites me to no end.

The fest’s centerpiece presentation is the Bay Area-set teenage drama Palo Alto, directed by Gia Coppola and starring Emma Roberts, James Franco, and Jack Kilmer. Based on a book of short stories written by Franco about his experience growing up in the titular Bay Area community, the film aims to be a more authentic take on teenage life than your typical high school drama, casting appropriately-aged actors in all roles and eschewing tropes like stereotypical clique dynamics.

Richard Linklater is set to receive the Founder’s Directing Award at SFIFF, and he’s bringing Boyhood, his much buzzed-about coming-of-age movie, along with him. We’ve all heard by now that the film is pretty good and that it took  an unprecedented 12 years to make, which is reason enough to check out the film at the festival, but sweetening the deal is that a career highlight reel of the indie pioneer will also be shown, and Linklater will participate in an on-stage interview. Doesn’t get much cooler than that!

There are two films with the word “Summer” in the title playing at the festival, but seriously, they couldn’t be any more different. Stanley Nelson (Freedom Riders) chronicles the rise of the Civil Rights movement in his powerful documentary Freedom Summer, focusing on the significant, eruptive events in Mississippi in the summer of 1964. Director Michael Tully’s nostalgia comedy Ping Pong Summer (pictured above), set in a 1985 Maryland beach town, follows 13-year-old Rad Miracle (Marcello Conte) as a simple family vacation turns into one of the most memorable summers of his life.

Closing out the festival is actor-turned-director Chris Messina’s Alex of Venice, starring Mary Elizabeth Winstead as the titular workaholic attorney, whose negligence of her family drives her husband (Messina) to walk out of their lives. As Alex’s strictly organized life begins to spiral out of control, she scrambles to restore some semblance of order, in the process discovering what’s truly important to her. The film also stars Don Johnson as Winstead’s father in a standout role.

For more information and ticketing info, visit sffs.org

My previous day at TIFF was originally going to comprise of four films as well, but unfortunately I had to bail out of one film due to pure tiredness (I’ll keep the film’s title unnamed here, but if it wasn’t for my physical limitations I would have stayed since it was good from what I saw). Luckily, I was able to chug through my second four-film day without a hitch, but I’ve learned now that it’s not something I should try more than once.

Night Moves

I decided to start my big day with Night Moves, which turned out to be the worst possible film to choose as a starting point. I’ve been a fan of Kelly Reichardt’s work from what I’ve seen, and was excited to see her approach being used on a genre film. Three activists from different walks of life get together to pull off a dangerous act of ‘eco-terror’: They buy a boat and rig it with explosives, hoping to blow up a dam. Theoretically what Reichardt is attempting here is interesting in its own right. Her stripped down style getting applied to a thriller makes for some neat moments, and the way things unravel so the three characters become corrupted by the same selfish behavior they abhor is a nice development.

The only problem is that Reichardt’s approach is bone dry, sucking out all of the tension and forward momentum. Paradoxically, while the main group (played by Jesse Eisenberg, Dakota Fanning and Peter Sarsgaard who all do their best at understating as much as possible) feel well-defined and realistic as characters, the tone of the film is so distant it’s impossible to feel anything about them. The last time Reichardt took a crack at a genre film it was the western with Meek’s Cutoff, which worked wonderfully. This time I think she simply picked the wrong area to work with. Hopefully next time she’ll be successful again with whatever she chooses.

RATING: 5.9

Gravity

Next up was the film that I had been waiting for since it was announced back in July: Gravity. Alfonso Cuaron spent seven years developing his follow-up to the brilliant Children of Men, and it’s apparent from the start just how much effort went into this film. The special effects are incredible, and it will be impossible to watch this without wondering exactly how they pulled off some moments. So Gravity does deliver in the spectacle department, but that’s mostly it. Granted it’s really good at it, and it’s an easy recommendation, but this is far from the new classic that people have been going on about.

Gravity is merely a well-done thriller that never lets up pacing-wise. Starting right in space with Ryan Stone (Sandra Bullock), a new astronaut, and a veteran on his last mission (George Clooney), it takes all but 10 minutes before debris from a satellite crash has Bullock and Clooney flying in opposite directions with nothing to hold on to. That’s merely the start of the many, many problems Bullock encounters while she frantically tries to make it back to Earth alive, and by the end the amount of near-death experiences become absurd (and it drew some laughter from the audience as well).

There really won’t be anything better this year on a technical level, but Gravity is far too basic to enjoy beyond the surface. Bullock and Clooney are terrific in their roles, making the most of the little material they’re given. Bullock is given some backstory to work with, but the film’s suffocating and repetitive pace drown out any emotional impact. I know that what I’m saying sounds very negative about the film, but it’s mostly because I came away disappointed that Gravity did not live up to my high expectations. There are some truly incredible sequences in here, and for a studio tentpole it’s quite original, but don’t expect a masterpiece.

RATING: 7

October November

Continuing my strange tonal shifts in films throughout the day, I went to check out October November. Gotz Spielmann’s last film Revanche blew me away when I saw it years ago, and at the beginning I was expecting more of the same riveting drama when an actress (Nora von Waldstätten) is confronted by the wife of a man she’s having an affair with. That scene turns out to be the only moment where fireworks go off, as the focus shifts to the actress’ sister (Ursula Strauss) who runs a small hotel in the countryside owned by her father.

The two sisters reunite when their father takes a heart attack, and the tensions between them form the basis for October November. Strauss is jealous of her sister leaving to be successful while she was forced to stay at home, and Waldstätten feels like she has no idea who she really is. It’s another existential European drama, and Spielmann really doesn’t seem to know how to get these issues across. The majority of October November is a no-stakes drama until the final act sees the two daughters waiting for their father to finally pass away. Despite being superbly shot and acted, there really is very little to get interested in. There’s no doubt that Spielmann is still a mature and terrific writer/director, but he seems to have invested in subject matter that returns very little.

RATING: 6

Under the Skin

I ended my day with Jonathan Glazer’s Under the Skin, and what a way to close off my long weekend at TIFF. I’m not over the moon like some people who have seen this, but I can’t blame them for being so ecstatic. Glazer is a master of style, and his 9 year absence seems to have made his images even more striking. The film’s first half, which simply follows Scarlett Johansson’s alien character around as she seduces men to a horrific fate, works as an excellent mood piece. Glazer has created some shots that will probably stick with me more than any other film I’ve seen here, and Micah Levi’s score is one of the best of the year by leaps and bounds.

It pained me a lot when Under the Skin didn’t coalesce into something wholly terrific for me. The second half of the film, in which Johansson gains human qualities and gets hunted down by her alien superiors, is a step down from the beautifully expressive and original first half. Glazer seems to have a hard time getting across what he wants to say at some points (his goal, to show Earth through an outsider’s perspective, wasn’t exactly successful in my eyes), and while Johansson is great her role is too enigmatic to make any of the final acts resonate. At times horrifying, beautiful and strange, Under the Skin is a classic case of a film not adding up to the sum of its parts.

RATING: 6.9

Next up:

Ben Wheatley’s hallucinogenic trip through A Field in England, and the best film I’ve seen at TIFF.

Making its world premiere tomorrow at the Toronto International Film Festival is the sophomore efforts from director Richard Ayoade entitled The Double, which stars Jesse Eisenberg as a man who starts to freak out upon discovering his eerie doppelganger. Because Ayoade hit it out of the park with his previous film, Submarine, which made it easy for us to put his new film on our TIFF radar this year. Watch the first trailer for The Double and stay tuned for our coverage of it at the festival.

Watch the teaser trailer for The Double:

Joel McHale will host the 26th Film Independent’s Spirit Awards show and the list of presenters for this year’s ceremony has been announced. Some good surprises are Will Arnett and Rainn Wilson.

See the full list of nominations

Here is the list of presenters:
Will Arnett
Jesse Eisenberg
Terrence Howard
Nicole Kidman
Diego Luna
Craig Robinson
Rainn Wilson
Paul Rudd
Mark Ruffalo
Zoe Saldana
Kerry Washington
Mia Wasikowska