Jessica Lange – Way Too Indie http://waytooindie.com Independent film and music reviews Fri, 02 Dec 2016 17:34:42 +0000 en-US hourly 1 Way Too Indiecast is the official podcast of WayTooIndie.com. Our film critics grip and gush about the latest indie movies and sometimes even mainstream ones. Find all of our reviews, podcasts, news, at www.waytooindie.com Jessica Lange – Way Too Indie yes Jessica Lange – Way Too Indie dustin@waytooindie.com dustin@waytooindie.com (Jessica Lange – Way Too Indie) The Official Podcast of Way Too Indie Jessica Lange – Way Too Indie http://s3-us-west-2.amazonaws.com/waytooindie/podcast-album-art.jpg http://waytooindie.com The Gambler http://waytooindie.com/review/movie/the-gambler/ http://waytooindie.com/review/movie/the-gambler/#respond Mon, 30 Nov -0001 00:00:00 +0000 http://waytooindie.com/?p=28079 Rupert Wyatt and Mark Wahlberg's 'The Gambler' is a bitter character portrait that's more shallow than its moody imagery and eloquent dialogue suggest.]]>

“Don’t look at him. Look at me. Just deal the cards.” Mark Wahlberg plays a man sprinting down the path of self-destruction in The Gambler, a bitter character portrait set in the seedy world of L.A. underground betting. Rupert Wyatt (Rise of the Planet of the Apes) does a good job directing a gifted cast of talents young and old, and moody cinematography by Greig Fraser gives the film a stylish visual signature, but it’s in the script by William Monahan where the film comes up short. Wahlberg is fully capable of carrying a film on his shoulders and does as best he can here, but when you’re stuck with a character so cynical and ungrateful, we need something more to compel us and keep a vested interest in his journey of doom and gloom, something the introspectively passive script fails to provide.

A remake of the 1974 Karel Reisz movie of the same name, Wyatt’s film starts with a nail-biting game of blackjack at a Korean-run gambling party, thousands of dollars of our anti-hero Jim Bennett’s (Wahlberg) money on the line. “Just deal the cards,” he unblinkingly tells the dealer, who keeps glancing nervously to the casino enforcers hovering in the background. Bennett’s a picture of composure, a high-roller in complete control. Then again…maybe not. The game doesn’t go his way, and a nearby loanshark named Neville (Michael K. Williams) notices, like us, that Bennett looks unbothered, like he just lost 5 bucks at the slots rather than several stacks in a high-stakes card game. Is this man addicted to gambling, or addicted to losing?

After some wise-ass jabbering, Bennett convinces the not-to-be-fucked-with Neville to loan him $50,000. He also ends up borrowing even money from another dangerous kingpin, Frank (John Goodman, in beast mode), who’s also not to be fucked with. Of course, he fucks with them. We learn that Bennett–in his other life a university English professor and retired novelist (he quit after one book)–has one week to pay back the $240,000 debt he owes the Korean mobsters. A dizzying game of evading hitmen and robbing Peter to pay Paul ensues, with Bennett shrugging off all outside help (his wealthy mother, played by Jessica Lange, loans him the debt money, which he squanders at the tables), content with accepting his downfall all by his lonesome.

Hope for a less dreary future lies in the classroom. Amy (Brie Larson) is Bennett’s star student, and also happened to be working as a waitress the night he lost that game of blackjack. There’s a chance, be it a small one, that Amy could be the safety line that saves Bennett from his downward spiral. Two students who may also play a part in his escape from his doom addiction are Lamar (Anthony Kelley), a star basketball player, and Dexter (Emory Cohen), the number 2 college tennis player in the country. How they figure into the grand plot feels a little contrived and convenient, but Kelley does a fine job as a first-time actor, keeping pace with Wahlberg like a pro.

Wahlberg lost a significant amount of weight to play Bennett and exhibits less of his signature tough guy bravado than usual. He’s a whiner, a weasel, and a fast talker who always has something snarky or pessimistic to say, particularly in front of his students. I was surprised to find Wahlberg to be a pretty believable college professor, rambling and ranting about Shakespeare and the absurdity of being a novelist with dark, explosive eloquence. Larson provides arguably the film’s best performance, adding much-needed soul and level-headedness to the scenes she steals. Goodman and Williams are both given chewy roles that they both own, keeping the film alive when it’s on the verge of falling asleep.

In the film’s late stages, it becomes painfully clear that whatever’s going on inside Bennett’s head isn’t that complex or interesting at all, or at least Wyatt and Monahan aren’t interested in exploring the depths of his pathos. Bennett doesn’t reveal himself to be much more than a sad-sack slacker, a lazy schmuck with a death wish who loves swimming with sharks. Even in the film’s climax, you have about as much sympathy for Bennett as you do a snoozing teenager you’re trying to shake awake so they won’t be late for school. It’s infuriating, and barely worthwhile. Wake the hell up, you lazy bastard! I’ve got better things to do!

Fraser’s visuals help keep things flowing, with jazzy compositions (especially during the intense card games) and clever uses of tilt-shift and time lapse. The dreamlike imagery, editing, and soundtrack (an a capella version of Radiohead’s “Creep” is pretty…uh…creepy) invoke the haze of addiction, but the writing never follows through with the message, leaving us unstirred, with little to take home and think about.

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In Secret http://waytooindie.com/review/movie/in-secret/ http://waytooindie.com/review/movie/in-secret/#respond Mon, 30 Nov -0001 00:00:00 +0000 http://waytooindie.com/?p=18320 Émile Zola’s definitive novel Thérèse Raquin has been translated to screen and stage too many times to count. Perhaps because it’s the definitive tale of forbidden lust gone way, way wrong. Though nobody recently has done as straightforward a rendition as first time feature filmmaker Charlie Stratton attempts with In Secret. Using an overqualified cast, […]]]>

Émile Zola’s definitive novel Thérèse Raquin has been translated to screen and stage too many times to count. Perhaps because it’s the definitive tale of forbidden lust gone way, way wrong. Though nobody recently has done as straightforward a rendition as first time feature filmmaker Charlie Stratton attempts with In Secret. Using an overqualified cast, he attempts to breathe new life to this gritty tale of the Parisian lower class in the late 19th century, but not even his actors can make up for what is essentially a staging of life’s worst case scenarios played out by beautiful people.

Émile Zola is considered one of the authoritative writers in the literary realm of naturalism, the focus of which is natural behavior and speech and which goes against any kind of romanticism. In Secret is certainly at times murky, even vulgar with it’s scenery of low-class life in 19th century Paris, but it seems to be trying so hard to be “natural” that it ends up being incredibly depressing. Each scene building on the next as a study in “what else can go wrong?”

Elizabeth Olsen (Martha Marcy May Marlene, Silent House) plays Thérèse Raquin, an orphaned girl left by her father to be brought up by her aunt Madame Raquin, played by the ever-fantastic Jessica Lange. Madame Raquin lives in the French countryside with her sickly son Camille (Tom Felton of Harry Potter fame) and when they are of age, Thérèse finds herself engaged and then quickly married to her childhood friend without much say in the matter. Camille decides he wants to pursue a job in Paris and moves his family to the city where his mother opens a dress shop. Thérèse is confined to a loveless life of dull monotony until Camille brings home a friend from work that he also knew from childhood, Laurent (Inside Llewyn Davis’s Oscar Isaac).

Never was there a brooding artistic Parisian who couldn’t sweep a sexually deprived orphan off her feet. Before rhyme or reason could ever put in a word, they’ve delved into an illicit love affair and are soon plotting the only foreseeable way to be with one another: Camille’s untimely demise. Of course, as a naturalistic tale, they couldn’t possibly find happiness in their actions and the act that soon frees them to love one another starts to wilt their obsessive love.

In Secret indie movie

 

Elizabeth Olsen is well cast, and even pulls off a convincing British accent (forgetting of course that the story takes place in Paris). Her bright eyes and rounded mouth make her almost too romantic for what Zola undoubtedly meant to be a realistic sort of woman. She is always engaging to watch, however, and her descent into love-induced madness is well performed. Naturally, there aren’t many who could outshine Jessica Lange. Her take on the selfish and pampering Madame Raquin, especially as she grieves for her perfect son and then befalls an even greater personal tragedy, is pure Oscar material and reminded me greatly of her multi-dimensional role in American Horror Story: Asylum. It seems tragic that the dark nature of In Secret means her performance will likely be overlooked.

Oscar Isaac is wasted on Laurent and Tom Felton is a little too well cast for the gaunt and putrid looking Camille. The entire cast is what will undoubtedly drive many people to the theaters to see In Secret, and they are indeed performing at their best. It’s Charlie Stratton, who both wrote and directed the film, who couldn’t take an old and joyless fiction and  try to do what Zola never seemed able to accomplish, bring a sense of relatable naturalism. Instead he plays up a gruesome reality, including some terrifying and out-of-place-feeling scenes that would have been better suited for a horror film.

Credit needing to be given where due, the costume design of the film, expertly crafted by French designer Pierre Yves Gayraud, is captivating to look at. And Uli Hanisch, the production designer, deserves accolade for capturing some definite 19th century Parisian grit, especially involving a particularly morbid morgue and street scenes including butchers and whores.

In the end, strong performances and beautiful imagery just can’t hold together what is essentially a bleak tale of two lovers seemingly determined not to allow themselves to be happy. While scandalous in its day, Thérèse’s tale is woefully lacking in a new approach and thus in any real appeal with modern audiences.

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