Beautiful Boy (2018)

Tags

Biopic, Drama, Triple A

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a sad poem using simple, straightforward language, and this story of a father mourning his son’s choices seemed like a perfect fit.)

When I first held you in my hands,
A life so small and yet so dear,
I dreamt of all your hopes and plans
That lay so far away from here,
In years ahead, when you perhaps
Did not need me as you did then.
Too soon did all those years elapse,
Too soon you joined the world of men.

You’ve gone your own way, that is clear,
On paths I’d never dreamed before,
And now I wait, with growing fear,
For news that you are here no more.
My son, I love you and I will,
Although you’ve left my heart so sore.
Afar, I stand and love you still
And wish I held you close once more.
_________________________

MPAA rating:  R (for much language and drug content)

Do you remember the final, heart-breaking scene of Philadelphia, where the film gives us a stark comparison between the disease-ridden character that just died and his innocent child self, subtly asking how someone once so pure could have been brought so low? That’s essentially what Beautiful Boy is, just stretched out to feature-length, yet still quite affecting, thanks to Oscar-worthy turns from Steve Carell and Timothée Chalamet as a father and son plagued by drug addiction.

Carell plays real-life journalist and father David Sheff, who in the early 2000s had to endure the pain of watching his son Nic (Chalamet) battle a meth addiction. The story is rife with flashbacks, many of which contrast Nic’s current struggle with his free-spirited childhood, as I said. Some also offer hints of what led him down the dark road to addiction, as when he defends his early gateway drugs in the name of youthful experimentation, just as his father did back in the day. Yet the phase that David grew out of, Nic succumbs to, leading to an emotional rollercoaster as he goes in and out of rehab with David desperate to help him any way he can.

Since it’s what I call a Triple A movie (one that’s All About the Acting), I’m honestly shocked that Beautiful Boy was entirely snubbed by the Oscars, though it did get a couple nominations at the Golden Globes, including one for Chalamet. The repetitive plot ends up feeling longer than it really is, perhaps because it’s emotionally draining as well, but there’s genuine heartfelt talent here, not to mention the extra-timely subject matter, which brings home the personal cost of America’s drug epidemic in stark, sympathetic detail. I’ve personally never understood the attraction to drugs, but this movie brings into focus how destructive they are and how unpredictable their effects can be, with one man’s single experiment becoming another man’s road to addiction.

I can see why it might not win Best Picture, with its excessive flashbacks and music (occasionally intrusive) stressing how dramatic it is, but the snub is hard to believe, especially compared to 2016’s Manchester By the Sea, another Amazon Studios film that won two Oscars and was dull and inferior next to this film. Chalamet and Carell give exceptional performances, and I highly suspect they’ll both end up with Oscars one of these day, or at least they should.

Best line: (David, to Nic as a child) “Do you know how much I love you? If you could take all the words in the language, it still wouldn’t describe how much I love you. And if you could gather all those words together, it still wouldn’t describe what I feel for you. What I feel for you is everything. I love you more than everything.”

 

Ranking: List Runner-Up

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
618 Followers and Counting

 

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Darkest Hour (2017)

Tags

Drama, History, Triple A, War

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a poem featuring rebellion, so I took inspiration from Winston Churchill’s tenacity in resisting the German onslaught in World War II.)

 

An animal fights never so hard
As when its den, its nest, its yard,
Its hole or burrow, lair or hollow
Is assaulted, threatened, scarred.
It’s then they most are on their guard.

If they defend their home so well,
Then we as humans must rebel
Against invasion, no persuasion
To assuage our raising hell
To screen and shield our citadel.

The brightest day requires no grit
When we are free to relish it.
The darkest hour tests our power
And our backbone not to quit,
For rebel lairs dare not submit.
____________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

Were you expecting the 2011 alien invasion movie set in Russia? If so, psych! Get with the times because I already reviewed that two days ago (and it’s The Darkest Hour, by the way). No, this is last year’s Winston Churchill biopic, which is more likely the film people will associate with the words Darkest Hour (no The), not only because it’s more recent but because it’s a fantastic movie.

While Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk depicted the famous rescue of the British army across the English Channel and Their Finest used it as propaganda back on the home front, Darkest Hour looks at the same events from the perspective of the leadership and politicians. An English political drama could very easily have made the proceedings eminently dry and boring, but that’s hardly the case when there’s an actor of Gary Oldman’s caliber in top form. His Oscar-winning performance as Winston Churchill is exceptional, one of those roles of a lifetime that he truly melts into, so that he’s hardly distinguishable from the real-life figure he plays, thanks also to the Oscar-winning makeup. From his droll habits and bearing to his brilliantly delivered speeches, it’s no wonder critics and audiences alike were saying, “Just give him the Oscar he so clearly deserves.”

Even the most acclaimed biopics so often leave me with a lessened opinion of their subjects, but Darkest Hour manages to show Churchill “warts and all,” so to speak, and still leave no doubt as to why he is considered such a great leader. In his very first scene, he’s at his worst, roaring at a fresh-faced, new secretary (Lily James) over minor annoyances, only to be calmed down by his loving and encouraging wife (Kristin Scott Thomas). The rest of the film serves to soften that intimidating figure we first see, as he buckles under the weight of the wartime decisions he faces and stands resolute in the face of overwhelming odds.

It was interesting to see how naively Churchill’s fellow leaders believed they could sue for peace even while war and destruction were upon them, and I was surprised at how unpopular Churchill was among his own Conservative party. Did the way he was described as someone with one hundred ideas a day, four of them good and the rest dangerous, remind anyone else of Donald Trump? Honestly, there were several scenes where it was as if they were describing the sitting U.S. President. “One never knows what’s going to come out of your mouth next. Something that’ll flatter, something that’ll wound,” says King George VI, played by Ben Mendelsohn (since I suppose Colin Firth was busy). Considering Churchill’s dictation habits, I can’t help but wonder if a modern Churchill would be tweeting in the privy as well.

Beyond the outstanding acting, the rest of the production is equally praiseworthy, such as the realistic sets and the way the dates change onscreen to make clear that events are happening within mere days of each other. Joe Wright’s direction is elegant but straightforward, and the script intelligent and witty in equal measure, providing welcome humor to lighten various scenes while also stressing the desperation of Britain’s situation. There’s some disappointment when you realize a great scene or two was fabricated, such as a voice-of-the-people sequence in the London subway, but the high degree of historical accuracy is only part of Darkest Hour’s strength.

It’s a testament to the power of oratory and a portrait of a great man under fire, not covering his whole life but the tension-filled days and weeks that helped define the course of his life and of the world. I’m tempted to rank it as a tie with The Iron Lady, another well-acted film about a great British prime minister that won its lead an Oscar, but I think Darkest Hour is a tad stronger overall and indeed one of the best films of 2017.

Best line (there are so many): (Churchill) “Those who never change their mind never change anything.”

 

Rank: List-Worthy

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
562 Followers and Counting

 

Marjorie Prime (2017)

Tags

Drama, Sci-fi, Triple A

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a poem that plays with voice and the first-person “I.” Based on this film’s premise, below is a soliloquy of a ghost addressing his former living self.)

 

I don’t know
If I’m still you,
The same as you once were.
What you went through,
What I’ve been through
Has left my mind unsure.

I can tell
From those you knew
That I was well thought of,
And if I’m you,
The former you,
I too return their love.

You might ask
Why would I stay
When you, alas, could not.
To your dismay,
I came one day
To take your vacant slot.

I suppose
I’m still part of
This world and wish relief
For those you loved.
For those I love
Should not be left in grief.
_____________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

It may seem that I complain a lot about how slow artsy films can be, so eager to be avant-garde and critically studied that they forget to entertain. Yet Marjorie Prime is proof that I can still appreciate a slow and quiet movie with the right combination of acting and script. This is a prime example (get it?) of a Triple A movie (where it’s All About the Acting) and of low-key speculative fiction; there are no jaw-dropping effects or mind-bending visuals, just three or four people talking in a room and providing a very plausible vision of the future.

At home at her seaside beach house, Marjorie (Lois Smith, who I know best as Helen Hunt’s aunt in Twister) is an elderly widow around the year 2050, who comes out to her living room to have a conversation with her husband Walter (Jon Hamm). However, he’s not her husband but a Prime of him, a holographic re-creation of Walter in his forties, designed to keep her company and help cope with her worsening Alzheimer’s. Both Marjorie and her son-in-law Jon (Tim Robbins) tell Walter Prime about the Walter they knew, and their memories help form his personality. “I’ll remember that now,” he says with every new piece of information. As you might expect, the idea of Primes doesn’t please everyone, specifically Marjorie’s anxious daughter Tess (Geena Davis), yet the realism grows with time, especially with the way Walter Prime assimilates and repeats the stories he’s been told. When he tells Marjorie of things she has since forgotten, who’s to say it’s not as genuine as the original memory?

Based on a Pulitzer-nominated play by Jordan Harrison, Marjorie Prime is full of moving subtlety in the areas of technology and memory, with a script worthy of an Oscar nomination, in my opinion. Those with little patience will likely be bored to tears, but if your mind is engaged, there’s plenty of existential meat to chew here, from the hidden family tragedy of Marjorie’s past to the way technology is depicted as neither good nor bad but simply an inevitability. In a world where people are already inviting primitive A.I.’s into their homes, it’s oddly conceivable to envision such artificial companions cushioned in the guise of a loved one. Whether that excites or disturbs you may vary, but the film is sensitive and honest in that regard and quite credible too in the way Primes are shown to develop with more information, serving as both a comfort and a painful reminder. I also liked smaller examples of their use, such as enabling future generations to “meet” their ancestors, or at least an indistinguishably close approximation of them.

The film does morph a bit from its starting point, tragically so in fact, yet there are three phenomenal performances at its heart. Lois Smith, Tim Robbins, and Geena Davis prove what outstanding actors they are, and I’m glad Smith in particular was able to step out from her usual side roles to portray the title character, reprising her role from the stage version. Memory and unspoken emotion hang over every conversation with a Prime, making them lump-in-throat encounters that stayed with me long after the credits had rolled. Perhaps the setting can get monotonous and the artsiness of a few interim scenes drags a bit, but the familial anguish and philosophical questions posed were both restrained and deeply compelling. This is the quiet side of science fiction, but for me, it’s one more reason to love the genre.

Best line: (Marjorie) “Well, the future will be here soon enough. You might as well be friendly with it.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
548 Followers and Counting

 

45 Years (2015)

Tags

Drama, Triple A

A tree that grows as decades fly
Has proved its will to live.
And most may think a tree so high
Will yield all it can give.

Indeed it may, as many do,
Its strength confirmed by age,
But age can also rot it through,
A cancer hard to gauge.

We cannot know its fortitude
Until the tempest blows,
And if its weakened roots protrude,
Then everybody knows.
_______________

MPAA rating: R (for language and a bedroom scene)

I can usually admire what I call Triple A movies, those that are All About the Acting, but even the best actors need a worthwhile story to tell. I had hoped 45 Years would have the right combination, but not so. This golden-years pairing of Tom Courtenay and Charlotte Rampling has a pretty simple concept and doesn’t expand too much on it, filling the performances with subtlety but leaving the plot an unsatisfying bore.

Norfolk retirees Kate (Rampling) and Geoff Mercer (Courtenay) are approaching their 45th anniversary, only to have their bucolic married bliss disturbed by a letter informing Geoff that the body of his former sweetheart in the ‘60s has been found frozen in a Swiss glacier. Geoff had told Kate about how he had lost his girlfriend Katya in an accident, so this isn’t too much of a surprise, but the flood of memories from this news overcomes Geoff and makes him obsess over his days with Katya. This sets off a chain of false fronts and hidden distress as Geoff says he’s all right but won’t let Katya and Switzerland go, while Kate insists it doesn’t bother her even though she’s clearly troubled.

The two stars carry off this slow escalation of emotion with expert nuance, and I can see why they were both nominated for several awards, with Rampling winning far more than Courtenay. Yet, as Kate’s irritation comes to a head, her deep-seated insecurity seems rather overblown considering that the whole film takes place over the course of a single week. If Geoff were to continue his preoccupation with Katya for weeks or months, I could better understand Kate’s objections, but shouldn’t she give him a chance to grieve when his buried sorrow is unearthed? I realize she loses some trust at his half-truths, but she takes it all much too personally. I mean, does she really expect to lose her husband of 45 years to a dead woman? By the end, it doesn’t matter how sincere Geoff’s professions of love seem; she’s let her unquieted doubts ruin her 45^th anniversary, probably for nothing.

Perhaps that’s the point (or should be) of this well-made and melancholy film, the danger of letting little troubles eat away at your inner peace, as when Kate sloughs off a potential source of agitation but adds on the word “Still….” That’s a worthwhile moral, but the film doesn’t pull it off as well as it could have. Looking back at it, the news Geoff got was only a big deal because their lives were so boring and uneventful. With 97% approval, Rotten Tomatoes describes 45 Years as a gem “for fans of adult cinema,” so perhaps I’m not adult enough to overlook the flimsy reason for this story to even be worth telling.

Best line: (Geoff) “What? You really believe you haven’t been enough for me?”   (Kate) “No. I think I was enough for you, I’m just not sure you do.”

 

Rank:  Dishonorable Mention

 

© 2017 S.G. Liput
520 Followers and Counting

 

September Morning (2017)

Tags

Comedy, Drama, Triple A

Where were you when the towers fell,
When a nation was numbed by an unforeseen hell?
What hollow activities padded the day,
As newscasters had the same horrors to play,
The same videos, the same headlines to tell?
And wasn’t “tomorrow” new cause for dismay?

Yet here we are, many years past the threat,
Still filled with the grief that once shocked and upset.
New courage since then, we’ve been forced to adopt.
We all may recall the day normal life stopped,
But let not the sadness cause us to forget
The day it began again, day for night swapped.
___________________

MPAA rating: Not Rated (should be R, for language)

The last two years, I’ve commemorated the anniversary of 9/11 by watching movie re-creations, letting United 93 and World Trade Center remind me of the tragic power of that horrific day. This year, though, I had the privilege of attending a free local screening of a small independent film called September Morning, a 9/11 film that never shows the planes or the smoking towers, instead dramatizing how average Americans far from New York, specifically a group of college students, reacted to the day that changed America.

Filmed over thirteen days and set completely in a small dorm room, September Morning takes place during the night of September 11 into September 12, after everyone was sick of the repeated news stories, sick of the fear and uncertainty, “tired of watching history being made.” The five college freshmen who spend that difficult night together include jocular Eric (Troy Doherty), promiscuous Lynz (Katherine C. Hughes), pessimistic Justin (Michael Grant), reserved Shelly (Taylor Rose), and vengeful ROTC cadet “Dish” Fisher (Patrick Cage II), who gather for pizza, beer, cigarettes, and conversation to distract from the oppressive melancholy that ruled the day. Each of those adjectives I assigned them are very general, as all of them fit those descriptions at some point, never coming off as stereotypes or anything less than genuine. The film doesn’t suffer one bit from its independent status, since every one of the actors is beyond reproach, with skillful direction to match from first-time writer-director Ryan Frost, who based the film off his own experiences as a freshman at the University of Richmond in September of 2001. Based on this film, I’d say every one of these talents is a name to watch, if only they would get the right notice.

The banter of the newfound college friends is heartfelt and sometimes funny, though rarely in a laugh-out-loud sort of way, but the shadow of 9/11 hangs over everything. Throughout the film are discussions and even silent reminders of the events of the previous day, offering much insight into how people felt at the time. When someone suggests watching a movie, Justin objects that whatever they see will be stigmatized to remind them of this time, just as anything showing the Twin Towers bears a solemn memory. The mood changes drastically when someone mentions planes or Arabs.  Shelly voices her hesitation at having a good time with friends after seeing people jump from burning buildings. There’s a debate about how people can pray and believe in God at times like this, with two characters sticking with Jesus while Justin argues for cynicism.

In many ways, September Morning struck me as The Breakfast Club for a new generation, simply set in college rather than high school. The whole film is basically a five-way conversation about these young people’s joys, fears, insecurities, and anger, simply with 9/11 as the context and trigger of these volatile emotions. There’s even an antagonistic authority figure in Michael Liu’s resident assistant, who criticizes the group’s self-medicating attitude and is summarily resented. As with The Breakfast Club, it’s easy to relate to these characters, and everyone is bound to see themselves in one or several of them at some point.

My main problem with September Morning is the language, with a surfeit of casual F-words surpassing anything in The Breakfast Club. In addition, the sexual conversations get uncomfortably graphic at times, even if nothing is shown. The frequent obscenities sadly make it a film I wouldn’t watch often, taking away from the otherwise impressive acting and thoughtful dialogue. (“Maybe fate is just a series of events that lead people to the same place.”) The lighthearted scenes often leaned too crude, but when the serious moments came, they rang true, particularly a brilliant exchange with the pizza delivery man (Max Gail, known to older viewers as “Wojo” on Barney Miller), whose age and experience help the young people put the traumatic day in perspective.

As with Life, Animated, I actually got to take part in a Q & A after the screening, this time with writer-director Ryan Frost, and he expressed his desire to memorialize how it felt on September 11 and 12 for the average American, especially since most college students will soon be part of a generation that doesn’t even remember 9/11. Even with the unnecessary profanity, September Morning succeeds as an encapsulation of those feelings and makes a point of contrasting the anger and despair with the kindness and encouragement that 9/12 instilled in people. As I left the theater with its flag flying at half-mast yesterday, the memory of the grief was lightened by the knowledge that, as hard and complex as it is, life does go on.

Best funny line: (Eric) “We’re all white people from the suburbs.”   (Dish, who’s black) “Excuse me?”   (Eric) “Oh, sorry, Justin’s Jewish.”

Best serious line: (delivery man Don) “When you get older, you tend to remember that time to time, the world goes crazy, but it doesn’t stop.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2017 S.G. Liput
506 Followers and Counting

 

The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds (1972)

Tags

Drama, Triple A

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for an African-American sonnet variant called a Bop, with a particular line arrangement and repetition. Mine focuses on the themes of hope and despair found in a very strangely titled film.)

 

I fear life was always regret for the sad misanthropes:
A flurry of chances, a cavalcade of open doors,
A sunrise of rapt opportunities youth had distilled,
Until an incurious world put an end to their hopes,
Disbanded the chances and slammed likely doors by the scores
And made them to watch the sun set on a day unfulfilled.

For life, pain and all, is a terrible thing to resent.

They laugh, or belittle if laughter is too much to ask,
At promising youths with their sunrises yet to unveil.
They fancy they know, because they were not up to the task,
That all of mankind has the similar fortune to fail.
Perhaps it’s a comfort to slander the world as a whole,
Reminding themselves they’re but some of its victimized brood,
But how they do rage at success that was always their goal,
Reminded that all do not share their embittering mood.

For life, pain and all, is a terrible thing to resent.

A crack in the concrete will leave the slab broken enough,
But when a seed forces its shoot through the cleft to the sun,
The stone may object to the flower that rose from its pain.
But stones will be stones, their priorities wretched and rough;
The flower, however, can see from the vantage it’s won
A world so much brighter than any the stone could attain.

For life, pain and all, is a terrible thing to resent.
____________________

MPAA rating: PG (for occasional profanity)

Yes, that is the actual name of this movie. And no, it’s not some cheesy B-movie, but rather a layered look at a dysfunctional family, an extremely bitter mother (Joanne Woodward), her older daughter Ruth (Roberta Wallach, daughter of Eli Wallach), and the younger Matilda (Nell Potts). The title even makes surprising sense, deriving from the meaningful science project Matilda performs throughout the film, but it’s still quite a mouthful.

Based on a Pulitzer Prize-winning play, Marigolds was the third film directed by Paul Newman, who cast his wife Woodward and their daughter (Nell Potts) opposite each other. Newman himself actually said that he considered this to be his wife’s best performance, and I can see why. The role of Beatrice Hunsdorfer is not one to enjoy as much as endure. As a widow and single mother beset by poverty she can’t escape, she’s intensely resentful toward everyone and everything and isn’t afraid to complain at every opportunity, even calling in to a radio show to complain when no one else is around to hear her. She’s a sour and broken woman with every reaction being the worst possible kind, and even her attempts at being pleasant or comforting come off as obnoxious and insincere.

As prominent as she is in the story, it’s not so much about Beatrice as much as what kind of children such a person can raise. Ruth is spiteful and petulant, not unlike her mother, while young Matilda is quiet and intelligent, caught in the middle of an unhappy family atmosphere. While the acting is tremendous throughout, except maybe for a few of Woodward’s more strained moments, Nell Potts is the one worth connecting with, a compelling eye of sympathy in the middle of a storm of indignation. What she goes through is liable to break your heart, especially with how she responds to it.

The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds may have one of those “what-were-they-thinking” titles, but there’s something profound to be gleaned from how its noxious mother-daughter relationship shapes Ruth and Matilda in different ways. Woodward plays a wholly unlikable character but still a complex one, a mother who can show concern for her daughter’s wellbeing while letting her own insecurities wreck that goal. The realism and not-entirely-tragic message make this film more than just an eccentric title.

Best line: (Beatrice, to Matilda) “Science, huh? Well, you tell Mr. Goodman there’s a lot of work to be done around here, so he’d better not count on you spending your days with half-life. Tell him if he wants to find out about half-life, he can come and ask me; I’m the original half-life. I’ve got one daughter with half a mind, the other who’s half a test tube, a house half-full of rabbit crap and half a corpse. That’s a half-life, all right.”

 

Rank: Honorable Mention

 

© 2017 S.G. Liput
466 Followers and Counting

 

Fences (2016)

Tags

Drama, Triple A

 

The role of a father’s not easy to fill;
The best of intentions can leave a bad taste,
And efforts that some might consider a waste
Can trouble their progeny still.

A father can favor or ruin a child,
Although they may try to resist.
A fine line exists between slaps on the wrist
And a rift to stay unreconciled.

Though not every father will coddle or kiss,
They impact the lives they create.
A father may foster affection or hate
But later is easy to miss.
_________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

Movies have so many different elements to catch one’s attention—the score, the direction, the locations—that the acting can sometimes be an afterthought, important but not the be-all-end-all for a success. When it comes to a play, with its limited sets and reliance on dialogue, the acting is everything, and the same applies for films based on a play, at least those that remain faithful to the source material. Fences is a Triple A movie if ever I saw one (that’s All About the Acting for those who don’t know) and features some of the best acting performances I’ve ever seen, especially the slam-dunk pairing of Denzel Washington and Viola Davis, reprising their roles from the Broadway revival.

Washington is both the director and star, playing Troy Maxson, a garbage collector who is easygoing while chewing the fat with his friend Bono (Stephen Henderson, who also appeared in Manchester By the Sea, by the way) but has a stubborn, controlling streak when it comes to his sons, whether it be the dissatisfaction with older son Lyons and his unrealistic musical aspirations or the hard-hearted opinion that young Cory has no chance at professional football. Viola Davis is his long-suffering wife Rose who balances Troy’s harder edges with sympathy and straightens him out when necessary. Both Washington and Davis give intense and incredibly nuanced performances, as does Jovan Adepo as Cory, and their interactions carry affection at first but also a high capacity for tension and verbal fireworks. While I was disappointed that Washington lost Best Actor, it’s about time Viola Davis won a well-deserved Oscar, considering she’s stood out even in small roles for years. It’s also the same role for which she won a Tony in 2010, and she’s now the only black actor to have an Emmy, Tony, and Oscar for acting categories.

While I’m not very familiar with playwright August Wilson’s Pittsburgh Cycle, a series of ten plays about African-American families throughout the 20th century, Fences isn’t my first exposure to his work. The Hallmark movie The Piano Lesson had a similar dialogue-driven narrative and style, but while that focused on matters of heritage and had a strangely supernatural ending, Fences is wholly realistic and tackles themes of fatherhood and responsibility with some truly complex characters. Troy, in particular, is both imperfect and admirable in his staunch adherence to personal responsibility; one of his first exchanges with Cory (the main one seen in all the trailers) sums him up perfectly, extolling his devotion to duty but putting that tough love ahead of anything like a caring familial relationship. When he admits to a reputation-shattering mistake on his part, he owns up to it but tries to defend his actions all the same, submitting to his responsibility with cold impartiality but not quite recognizing his own selfishness. He’s a proud man and a bitter one, thanks to racial prejudice and his own half-admitted past foibles that put his treatment of his sons in context.

Fences is a character study of flawed fatherhood, the kind that can mess up one’s childhood while shaping the person one becomes, for better or worse. Like its characters, it’s not perfect: the introduction of Troy’s mentally damaged brother (Mykelti Williamson) doesn’t flow as well as the rest, and I’m not sure it has the rewatch value of other play adaptations I love, such as Driving Miss Daisy. For the first half-hour, as Troy delivers folksy soliloquies that establish who he is, I wasn’t sold, but the emotional turns that follow confirm Fences as one of the great films of the year.

I never thought the whole #OscarsSoWhite controversy of the last two years was that egregious, but it might have seemed that the Academy overcompensated with the number of black nominees in 2016. Yet, with films like Fences, Hidden Figures, and Moonlight, it’s encouraging that these movies with and about African Americans are genuinely deserving rather than some token nominations to fill a societal quota. With its confined setting and focus on dialogue, Fences honors its roots as a play, and the exceptional acting distinguishes it as a first-class adaptation.

Best line: (Rose, to Cory about his father) “You can’t be nobody but who you are, Cory. That shadow wasn’t nothing but you growing into yourself. You either got to grow into it or cut it down to fit you. But that’s all you got to make life with. That’s all you got to measure yourself against that world out there. Your daddy wanted you to be everything he wasn’t…and at the same time he tried to make you into everything he was. I don’t know if he was right or wrong, but I do know he meant to do more good than he meant to do harm.”

Rank: List Runner-Up

2017 S.G. Liput
453 Followers and Counting

Sophie’s Choice (1982)

Tags

Drama, Triple A

 

Choices, choices, none rejoices
When they’ve no choice but to choose.
How can anyone decide when
Every option sees them lose?

The mind will race, the conscience brace
For all the doubts of if and why
You chose the lesser of two evils
Or the road less traveled by.

Choices, choices, haunted voices,
More ashamed than they’ll admit.
The deepest burden of a choice is
Learning how to live with it.
______________________

MPAA rating: R (mainly for language)

I’m that strange sort of guy who doesn’t seem to care about spoilers. Of course, that only increases the value of twists or plot developments I didn’t see coming, but typically I have few qualms about reading up on a movie before seeing it. Thus, I was rather surprised that, as famous as Sophie’s Choice is, I didn’t really know what the titular choice was. I suspected it during the film, but watching it play out was no less gut-wrenching, thanks more than anything to an incredible performance by Meryl Streep.

Based on William Styron’s novel, Sophie’s Choice is what I call a Triple A movie, one that is All About the Acting, and I would encourage anyone who thinks of Streep as an overrated actress to see Sophie’s Choice and be reminded of her in her prime. She isn’t the narrator, though; that honor goes to a young Peter MacNicol as aspiring author Stingo, who moves into a New York boardinghouse, only to witness a furious break-up between Polish immigrant Sophie (Streep) and her lover Nathan (Kevin Kline). Before long, though, his neighbors make up and warmly welcome Stingo into their friendship, as well as their personal problems.

MacNicol is a rather dull protagonist, whose main role is as a framing device to learn about Sophie and Nathan. Kline, on the other hand, in his first film role, is almost as astonishing as Streep, even if he gets the bulk of the foul language. His extremes of eloquent camaraderie and profound hatred are electric and so intense that I was not surprised by the eventual explanation for his behavior. How he was not nominated for an Oscar that year, I will never know, especially when Charles Durning was for The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas! Come on, there’s no comparison! Even so, this movie is Streep’s forever, from her meticulously assumed Polish accent to her heart-breaking flashbacks where she speaks both Polish and German; it’s no wonder her performance is considered one for the ages.

While the two central performances in Sophie’s Choice are exceptional, it’s not a film I’d watch often, and it’s not simply because of the crushing sorrow involved. Depressing films can be some of the most powerful, like Grave of the Fireflies or The Elephant Man, and I love those films. Yet Sophie’s Choice falls into another category that leaves a certain profound emptiness. When an ending feels more like a waste than a misfortune, it’s harder to admire. I’m glad I saw Sophie’s Choice, a film that always brings my VC to tears and did this time as well, but it will be some time before I revisit its upsetting story.

Best line: (Sophie, to Stingo) “The truth does not make it easier to understand, you know. I mean, you think that you find out the truth about me, and then you’ll understand me. And then you would forgive me for all those… for all my lies.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2016 S.G. Liput
414 Followers and Counting

 

Dominick and Eugene (1988)

Tags

Drama, Triple A

 

Bless all brothers near and far,
The sensitive and callous ones,
The playmates prone to jealousy
Yet somehow fond of family,
The boys who tease and rib and spar
Yet love their parents’ other sons.

Maybe brothers don’t realize
The privilege that I never had,
A friend you maybe did not want,
A buddy quicker to confront,
Yet one whose love your name implies,
Who shares more than a mom and dad.
______________

 

MPAA rating: PG-13

 

I recently found a local movie channel that shows more obscure films, and checking out one such sleeper just for the heck of it, I discovered this underrated drama. Dominick and Eugene seems like a prime award magnet. It features a nuanced fraternal relationship, a superb performance from an Oscar nominee (Tom Hulce), strong supporting roles for Ray Liotta and Jamie Lee Curtis, and a 100% rating on Rotten Tomatoes. Yet I’d never heard of it, and the most it received in 1988 was a Golden Globe nom for Hulce before fading away into the sea of forgotten ‘80s movies. Maybe its title was too generic, but this is a shame.

The titular duo are twins living together in Pittsburgh. Liotta is Eugene, a doctor-to-be who tries to start a relationship with a colleague (Curtis) and further his career while dealing with his mentally challenged brother. Hulce as Dominick is the star here. He is child-like, earnest, and hopelessly gullible, often falling for the tricks or suggestions of his coworker Larry and the local hoodlums, and when an idea gets in his head, he doesn’t let it go easily. Despite his disability, though, Nicky is the breadwinner, and his job as a garbage man serves to fund his brother’s education. Eugene is both protective of and frustrated by his brother, for reasons not clear at first, and life, love, and tragedy get in the way of their close relationship.

Dominick and Eugene could have drawn comparisons to the other drama about brotherly bonds and mental illness from that same year Rain Man, which did earn Best Picture and Best Actor Oscars and had far more advertising and better known stars. Hulce can’t quite compare with Dustin Hoffman’s role there (few can), but his fragile and earnest performance surely deserved more attention. One scene in particular stood out to me, as the camera centers on Hulce’s first-person view and reaction to a shocking act and a personal realization. The relationship between the two brothers is both strained yet unbreakable and more believable than in Rain Man, helping Dominick and Eugene to succeed as a subtle and touching affirmation of family ties.

Best line: (Dominick, who is a Christian but discouraged, looking at a crucifix) “If I was God, I wouldn’t let that happen to my boy.”

 

Rank: List-Worthy (tied with Rain Man)

 

© 2016 S. G. Liput

361 Followers and Counting

 

The Miracle Worker (1962)

Tags

Drama, History, Triple A

Darkness in the light of day,
Silence in the loudest noise.
Close and also faraway,
Vacant at the gladdest joys,

Only feeling with the hand,
Needing, taking in the dark,
Slow to know or understand
And lacking means to try till hark!

A firmer hand arrives to guide,
A stronger arm, both cruel and kind,
To teach the words she’d been denied
And show them all love isn’t blind.
_________________

MPAA rating: the equivalent of G

True life stories are often the most inspiring, and one of the most incredible is the life of Helen Keller. Born healthy but struck deaf and blind by a childhood infection, she grew up in total darkness, knowing the world solely through touch. She had no concept of light or love or even that objects had names, and yet she grew to be an accomplished author and lecturer (and apparently introduced the Akita dog to the U.S. Who knew?). As I read her autobiography The Story of My Life, her diction and facility of language make it hard to believe that she once had no understanding of it whatsoever. Her story is and has been a true inspiration for the handicapped, and The Miracle Worker brilliantly presents her difficult early years.

Both Patty Duke and Anne Bancroft won Oscars for their surprisingly physical roles, Duke as the young Keller and Bancroft as her tenacious teacher Anne Sullivan. The film very much reflects Keller’s memoirs, focusing solely on her tumultuous childhood and initial relationship with Sullivan. Duke acts convincingly detached as she gropes her way along, oblivious to the significance of what she touches yet petulant and violent when annoyed. She grabs food from others’ plates and locks people in rooms, while her parents cite her handicaps as a good reason to tolerate her behavior. Enter Ms. Sullivan. Her history with blindness gives her a special sympathy, yet her Irish temperament puts her at odds with Helen’s surliness and her parents’ enabling. Bancroft in particular deserved her Oscar; she exhibits the patience of Job as she reins Helen in, wrestles with her just to get her to hold a spoon, and deals with the uncertainty of teaching a seemingly unteachable pupil.

Boasting a 100% on Rotten Tomatoes, The Miracle Worker depicts quite the extraordinary relationship between a student who doesn’t know how to be taught and a teacher who sees potential no one else can. After an initially overacted introduction, everyone slips into perfectly natural roles from Helen’s antagonistic father (Victor Jory) to her concerned mother (Inga Swenson), all dwarfed by the two lead performances. When that “ah-ha” moment finally arrives with the hard-won breakthrough, the celebration feels genuine and earned and meant as only the beginning of Helen’s progress. It’s interesting to note that while Patty Duke won an Oscar playing Keller, she later won an Emmy playing Ms. Sullivan, opposite Little House on the Prairie’s Melissa Gilbert. Whenever an uninformed viewer wonders who that woman on the Alabama state quarter was, The Miracle Worker will give them a new appreciation for Helen Keller and the educator who opened the world to her.

Best line: (Anne) “It’s less trouble to feel sorry for her than it is to teach her anything better.”

Rank: List-Worthy

© 2015 S. G. Liput

344 Followers and Counting