The man behind Austin Powers and Meet the Parents, Jay Roach, joins the podcast today to talk about his new film, Trumbo, starring Bryan Cranston as legendary Hollywood screenwriter Dalton Trumbo, whose career was cut short when he and a handful of his associates were blacklisted due to their association with the communist party. Bernard goes solo to review Tom McCarthy‘s newsroom drama Spotlight as well as share his Indie Pick of the Week.

Topics

• Indie Picks (1:23)
• Spotlight (5:28)
• Trumbo (26:49)
• Jay Roach (35:39)

Articles Referenced

Trumbo Review
Spotlight Review
Doomsdays Interview
Doomsdays Indiecast

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“The pen is mightier than the sword.” An overused adage, yes, but one can’t help but think of it while watching Trumbo, Jay Roach’s film following the most famous of the Hollywood Ten, the film industry professionals blacklisted during the communist scare of post-World War II America. But the fact that the film conjures up played out inspirational quotation rather speaks to the film’s methods in portraying Dalton Trumbo’s subversive and clever discrediting of the blacklist. This is clearly an important historical tale and Hollywood loves nothing more than it loves stories about itself, but it’s this assumed dignity that ultimately lessens the impact of the film and detracts from the very real significance of what Trumbo accomplished.

Roach has a rather focused directorial collection ranging mostly from comedy (Meet the Parents) to fact-based politicals (Game Change), his interest in wit and politics is clear. In this regard Dalton Trumbo is understandably attractive. John McNamara—known mostly for his TV writing—adapted a script from Bruce Cook’s novel Dalton Trumbo, and maybe it’s because the film takes place over the entire span of the blacklist’s inception in 1947 to its eventual dissolution around 1960 that the film’s pacing does feel a bit episodic in bursts of plot development. Trumbo’s strength lies in Bryan Cranston’s portrayal of Dalton Trumbo, his wide mouth and dramatic facial features giving an amount of gravitas to this quick-witted writer.

The film flies, barely giving us a chance to get to know the group that makes up those who are starting to speak out against the wave of conservative nationalism flowing through Hollywood, headed by gossip columnist Hedda Hopper (Helen Mirren). Trumbo is at the height of his career and making more than any screenwriter in Hollywood ever has, but his penchant for wearing his political beliefs on his sleeve quickly pushes him into the spotlight. Russia has turned from being a WWII ally to an elusive threat as the beginnings of the Cold War push at the growing paranoia in America. Much of this is shown in newsreel soundbites and meetings held by Trumbo with his colleagues in the industry who also identify as either Communist or liberal. It doesn’t take long for Trumbo and his associates, among them Arlen Hird (Louis C.K.) a fellow screenwriter, to be brought before the House Un-American Activities Committee to explain themselves. The now famous Hollywood Ten refused to reveal their personal affiliations and called into the question the constitutionality of such a hearing, as a result several of them went to jail, were fined, and most significantly were fired and/or stigmatized to the point of losing their livelihoods.

The film takes a more dramatic turn when Trumbo serves his time in prison, reflecting on the personal struggle of prison life and that of his family surviving without him back home. Diane Lane plays Cleo, Trumbo’s sweet, supportive and perhaps too tame wife. When he finally comes home from prison almost a year later, it’s Trumbo’s eldest daughter Niki (Elle Fanning) who becomes the film’s other strong character, a contrived decision attempting to better paint Trumbo as both family man and hero. Trumbo enacts a plan that allows him to continue writing—a craft he seems supernaturally good at—and allows him to undermine the blacklist as well. He begins writing for Frank King (John Goodman), a B-movie filmmaker who happily trades Trumbo’s talent for small money, no credit, and a shot to get Trumbo’s movies made. Trumbo begins a sort of screenwriting factory, cranking out originals and doctoring those that need work, enlisting his fellow blacklisters to help. It isn’t long until his pseudonym-written scripts pick up some attention. The man can’t help but be talented.

It would be great to take away from all of this that true talent shines, or right will prevail, or one rock can fell a mighty giant, except that what ultimately allows Trumbo to discredit the blacklist is the combined consciences of several others in the industry who supported him, most notably Otto Preminger and Kirk Douglas. So while Trumbo certainly got a sort of revenge on those who imprisoned and blacklisted him, it was the growing evidence that McCarthy’s scare-tactics weren’t leading to any hard evidence of espionage within the film industry. The truth of this doesn’t detract from Trumbo’s role, but ideally the film would have opted for a more humble approach than spotlight the cleverness of its subject.

The film has a distinct lighting scheme and familiar musical mood, very clearly trying to invoke an old Hollywood nostalgia, but mostly working to make the film far too cartoonish. The introduction of historical figures at every point feels like name-dropping and self-congratulatory (no matter how much Dean O’Gorman looks like Kirk Douglas) and the film’s distinct self-love for the industry seems out of place in a story depicting that industry’s darkest hour. At one point in the film Louis C.K.’s Arlen Hird says to Trumbo “Do you have to say everything like it’s going to be chiseled into a rock?” and this sentiment speaks more to the entire film than anything else muttered.

It’s interesting to note that there will be—and indeed already have been—those who want to remind us that Trumbo’s writing was ripe with socialist messages, as if this proves his complicity in some masterful scheme and marks him as not entirely clean of guilt. Considering the philosophical beginnings of Communism, it hardly seems duplicitous that one would include its main themes in storytelling. If everyone were to feel equally as sensitive to biblical themes in film, there’d be hardly a movie out there that didn’t appear to be propaganda. There may be an amount of historical re-writing, but this hardly seems the film’s worst quality, instead it’s that Trumbo draws a larger picture of its title character than it does the entire tragedy and injustice that propelled him.

Without that level of context Trumbo is reasonably enjoyable, but mostly begs that there be a better film made at least equal to what this Oscar-winning man could have come up with.

Whether you were enjoying the weather this weekend, binging on weekend streaming options, or wondering if you should be offended by Louis C.K.’s SNL monologue, we’ve got some of the news you may have missed while brunching. Here’s a few things you should know as we start a new week.

Cannes Watch 2015

Finishing up its first week, this year’s Cannes film festival has some people praising (Todd Haynes’ Carol), some people booing (Gus Van Sant’s The Sea of Trees), and of course the requisite mixed reviews (Natalie Portman’s directorial debut A Tale of Love and Darkness). The biggest sale of the festival thus far is for Tom Ford’s soon to be made second film Nocturnal Animals with Jake Gyllenhaal and Amy Adams set to star. Selling for $20 million to Focus Features after he pitched it at the festival, the film is a “romantic tale of revenge and regret.” In addition to featuring in Paolo Sorrentino’s film Youth, debuting at Cannes, Jane Fonda was also the first honoree of the Women in Motion program and she had some rather spirited things to say about the pay divide in Hollywood among men and women:

“Of course it upsets me that women are still earning 30 cents per dollar less than a man earns doing exactly the same work,” she said in an interview a day prior to receiving the award. “It’s unacceptable and it must change and we talk about it and we must be active in trying to create gender equity in terms of pay…The fact is that most film directors are men, white men. Most major roles are male roles and (it’s) the reason that I’m excited about this award,” she said. “Women have to become part of the very heart of movie making.”

The End of an Era: Mad Men Series Finale

Matthew Weiner’s final seven episodes (after a year of waiting for season 7 to wrap up) have shaken things up in Don Draper’s universe, interestingly moving away from a focus on his advertising world and spending more time on the personal lives of Don and his associates. The iconic series wrapped up satisfyingly bringing its main character full circle into a new age—of advertising, of family dynamics, and of personal understanding. Long-time fans are sure to have many opinions on everyone’s favorite scoundrel and his long-winded journey, but one thing’s for sure, Mad Men—which began in 2007—is among those shows that ushered in what many consider to be a new golden age of narrative television. Its a show where characters have been allowed sincere depth and emotional complexity while living out their lives in the midst of a time capsule that has simultaneously transported viewers to a bygone era while reminding them of what has and has not changed since. It’s a prime example of the power of the small screen and will leave an hour-sized hole in the hearts of many people on Sunday evenings.

Pitch Perfect 2 Pushes Mad Max Off the Road

With its cult-like following flocking to theaters in its opening weekend, Pitch Perfect 2 managed to rake in more money than its first film made in its entire theatrical run. Bringing in an impressive $70.3 million in its first three days, those acapella singing ladies pushed Mad Max: Fury Road down to #2 with $44.4 million over the weekend. With all its buzz about being a “feminist film” and the ridiculous drama brought about by a wannabe men’s activist espousing the film’s brain-washing agenda, sounds like some of those music-loving Pitch Perfect fans may just mosy over to Mad Max next weekend for another dose of kick-ass women. A few of our writers get into all that kick-assery and more in Mad Max: Fury Road in tomorrow’s podcast.

Trailer of the Week: Crimson Peak

We’ve been following this one closely—it is Guillermo del Toro after all—but now we have an even more detailed and insanely creepy trailer to keep us on edge until the October 16 release date for this extra spooky haunted house (possessed house??) horror tale. Especially intriguing is how much more of Jessica Chastain’s deeply unsettling—and clearly protective, sister to Tom Hiddleston’s Sir Thomas Sharpe—we get to see. It’s been far too long since del Toro properly scared us (sorry The Strain, but no), as it has been almost ten years since Pan’s Labyrinth. We’re ready for more Guillermo, bring it on.

For American Hustle, David O. Russell assembles a cast largely comprised from his previous two crowd pleasing films, Christian Bale and Amy Adams from 2010’s The Fighter, and Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence from 2012’s Silver Linings Playbook. His cast selection proves to be a winning formula as the most pleasing aspect of the film is the superb acting. Because the film features con artists at work it is easy to anticipate the lies on top of lies procedure, therefore, the love triangle that forms between the three leads becomes the real emphasis of the story. Regardless of being able to predict what will happen before it does, American Hustle is still a ride despite its many shortcomings.

The film begins circa 1978 at the Plaza Hotel in New York City as an overweight man named Irving Rosenfeld (Christian Bale) is seen gluing hair on his head in an attempt disguise himself as the con-artist he truly is. Irving recalls being surrounded by shady schemes all of his life—first one involved breaking store windows as a youngster because his dad owned a glass business. Since then he has dabbled into a wide range of schemes from stealing art pieces to running a dry-cleaning store that does more than just launder clothes. His partner in crime as well as love is the dashing Sydney Prosser (Amy Adams), who exudes just as much confidence and wit as Irving, only without the comically bad hairdo.

Just as the duo begins to hit their stride in scams the undercover FBI agent Richie DiMaso (Bradley Cooper) busts them red-handed. In exchange for prison time Richie offers them a deal if they can setup a sting to catch four high profile targets. Their biggest target is the beloved yet corrupt mayor Carmine Polito (Jeremy Renner), who sometimes does shady things for good reasons. Everything goes to plan until Irving’s wife Rosalyn Rosenfeld (Jennifer Lawrence) threatens to ruin the plot by running her loud mouth.

American Hustle’s breezy pacing makes the runtime feel half as long, but also makes the out of focus structure even more noticeable. The hard part is telling whether or not it was Russell’s intention to make such an inconsistent film. For seemingly no reason the camera will zoom in on a body part or apply a tracking shot when movement is not necessary. Often the music works brilliantly as a companion to what is happening on the screen, but then there is the out of place “Live and Let Die” sing-along that falls completely flat. The film asks whether it is the original painter or the counterfeiter who is the true master, and it is that fine line that the film itself walks on.

Although most people are likely to remember Lawrence’s flashy and loud performance, it is Adams more understated role that is most impressive. Adams convinces the audience to continuously change their minds on what side she is really on—sometimes faithful to Bale’s character and other times overly flirtatious with Cooper. The one thing all characters share in common is neither one of them have many redeeming qualities.

The individual parts that make up American Hustle work well on their own right, but do not fit seamlessly when assembled together. There are times where the comedy works, the characters are engaging, the cinematography is purposeful, and the soundtrack fits; though it is rare that any of them occur at the same time. The final reveal is remarkably simple considering the layering of lies involved within the film. But despite the overall messiness of the arrangement, American Hustle remains watchable thanks to the wonderful acting performances.

American Hustle trailer

It’s always felt like everyone’s been waiting for Woody Allen‘s legendary, ultra-prolific career to inevitably begin sputtering out. When he began really losing steam about a decade ago with duds like Curse of the Jade Scorpion and Melinda and Melinda, many speculated that his edge might be dulling for good. Then he knocked us in the head with the brilliant films like Match Point, Vicky Cristina Barcelona, and Midnight in Paris which proved he was still capable of creating significant cinema.

From another angle, the infrequency of great films in Allen’s late period has been a signal to many that his days as a vital director may be over sooner rather than later. Is Blue Jasmine—a bitter character study starring Cate Blanchett as Jasmine, a Ruth Madoff-like wreck of a woman—substantial enough to quell the fears of his loyal supporters and prove he’s got more left in the tank? The short answer is yes, it is. Blanchett’s unbounded performance should easily earn her an Oscar nod and directorially, Allen is in tip-top shape. And yet, Blue Jasmine falls short of greatness, mostly due to strangely written and casted supporting players and a script that slightly buckles under the weight of Blanchett’s juggernaut performance.

The film opens with Jasmine, a once wealthy New York aristocrat, sitting on a plane, rattling off incessantly about how she met her husband, Hal (Alec Baldwin) to a stranger who becomes less interested with every word. “He met me at a party and swept me off my feet.” They’ve just landed in San Francisco (which Allen photographs as if it were a ghost town), where Jasmine’s forced to stay with her working class sister, Ginger (Sally Hawkins), since she’s lost “every cent” of her own money—Hal’s orchestration of a failed Ponzi scheme landed him in the slammer, leaving Jasmine drowned in debt. She tries to veil her snobby disgust for her sister’s modest digs, and numbs herself to her surroundings by chugging vodka.

Watching Jasmine plummet from the glamour, Chanel bags, and Hamptons house parties of her previous life (depicted artfully in carefully planted flashbacks) to downing bottles of Stoli, snacking on Xanax, and sleeping on a crummy couch bed, is deliciously tragic and straddles the line between hilarious and depressing. Jasmine is unbelievably self-centered, perpetually complaining about everything, but mostly about the titanic tragedy that is her life, even when no one’s around to hear it (disturbing.) Whenever she’s confronted with a serious dilemma, she mentally checks out and starts reciting her go-to anecdotes from the “Hal” days like a broken record. She repeats the story with a blank stare, “He met me at a party and swept me off my feet.” Shudder. Extreme neurosis and anxiety are eating her alive (Gena Rowlands in A Woman Under the Influence comes to mind.) Jasmine’s mental breakdown is both utterly gripping and distressing to watch, like a 20 million dollar jet crashing and burning in slow motion.

The supporting cast is almost comically un-Californian, with Andrew Dice Clay as Hawkins’ bitter ex husband (“She’s movin’ in wit’ yoo?”), Louis C.K. as her frivolous fling (wasted), and Bobby Cannavale playing a lame version of Stanley Kowalski. Speaking of A Streetcar Named Desire (which inspired Allen to make this film), Blanchett channels the tragic romanticism of Blanche DuBois, who she played on-stage in 2009. She never gets too showy, though, and only goes big-time operatic when she knows the scene will be better for it.

Though Allen opted to not endow Blue Jasmine with his travelogue visual flare that I’ve grown fond of, Blanchett provides so much to chew on and gawk at that she single-handedly makes the film a certifiably significant work. The humor never falters and there’s enough of it to balance out Jasmine’s surprisingly dark character arc, but I’d hesitate to classify this as a comedy (as it’s been advertised.) I would, however, classify it as proof that Allen’s still got years of great films left in him.