12/30/14 (Part Two): Deja Vu All Over Again

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adult friendships, Alex Manugian, cinema, Coherence, comets, dinner parties, directorial debut, doppelgängers, doubles, Elizabeth Gracen, Emily Foxler, feature-film debut, film reviews, films, friends, Hugo Armstrong, James Ward Byrkit, Kristin Ohrn Dyrud, Lauren Maher, Lorene Scafaria, Maury Sterling, Movies, neighbors, Nic Sadler, Nicholas Brendon, Outer Limits, parallel universe, probability, quantum physics, sci-fi, Timecrimes, Twilight Zone, writer-director

On the night of a comet’s passage into Earth’s orbit, a group of four couples meet for dinner at one of their houses. As the friends hang out and talk, they notice that they’ve all lost cell reception. When the lights suddenly go out, the group heads outside only to discover that the entire neighborhood seems to have lost power…with the exception of a single house several streets down, that is. A hesitant mission to explore the mysteriously lit house returns with information but it’s not the kind of thing anyone wants to hear: the house is full of people, all right…eight people that look just like them.

That’s the basic set-up for writer James Ward Byrkit’s directorial debut, Coherence (2014), an exceptionally smart little bit of sci-fi paranoia that neatly slots into a year that saw a plethora of doppelgänger/double films, including the similar +1 (2014). If some of the execution comes across as a bit rushed and the acting often veers into the rough end of things, there’s no shortage of ambition here and Byrkit nails a creepy tone often enough to justify hanging in for the ride. There’s also a genuine sense of intelligence here that pushes Coherence into a select group of films that include Timecrimes (2007) and Primer (2004), nice company for a first-time director to be in. There are even times where the film achieves the kind of unexplained, Lovecraftian dread that made Denis Villeneuve’s Enemy (2014) one of my favorite films of the year: again, not bad company to be in at all.

Part of what makes Coherence such an effective film is the way in which Byrkit threads the notions of cause-and-effect and probability through the entire narrative, which twists and turns on itself like a snake. At times, the films many whiplash twists can get a bit dizzying but it never feels overwhelming, mostly because the script doles out information and audience support as needed without ever feeling overly expository. There’s still enough doubt by the film’s conclusion to make it relatively open-ended, although it feels more like a choice than the kind of “backed into a corner” resolution that can often result from this kind of film. While some of the film’s rationalizations come across as a little wonky, it never feels silly or improbable.

Another aspect of Coherence that struck me as particularly impressive was the way in which the film managed to recall the feel of vintage Twilight Zone or Outer Limits episodes without ever seeming like a slavish imitation. In particular, the basic setup reminded me of the classic “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” episode, at least on a surface level. This impression was also driven home by the film’s editing style, which often felt as if it left room for commercial breaks, for some inexplicable reason: while I wasn’t a fan of this particular quirk in the slightest, I do admit that the enjoyed the Twilight Zone association immensely.

If I had any real issue with Byrkit’s debut (the filmmaking was generally fine, although the shaky cam and over-reliance on close-ups could be distracting), it definitely resides with the often hit-or-miss acting. When the ensemble connects, they definitely feel authentic, which lends a chilling sense of realism to the admittedly bizarre events around them. When they don’t, however, the whole thing tends to become amateurish and rather over-the-top. In particular, Hugo Armstrong and Nicholas Brendon are prime offenders as Hugh and Mike, respectively. Armstrong never really comes across as anything more than shouty and blustery, which strips any nuance from his character and makes him seem like a particularly obnoxious plot contrivance. Brendon is also over-the-top but I lay quite a bit of the blame for that at Byrkit’s feet: as written, the character of Mike is a complete mess and serves only to add unnecessary melodrama to scenes that don’t need it. His constant kvetching about his drinking gets old fast and I could never fully understand his motivations.

On the plus side, Emily Foxler is quite good as Em and provides a fairly well-rounded protagonist. She’s likable, which certainly helped in a film where the characters often seemed self-absorbed to the point of stage-bound artificiality. Maury Sterling was also consistently good as Em’s boyfriend, Kevin: the two actors had good chemistry together and Sterling was always an interesting performer to watch. Elizabeth Gracen’s performance as Beth could tend towards the OTT, ala Armstrong’s, but I chalked a bit of that up to story issues: she did some nice, subtle work, at times,  and I bought her relationship with Hugh part and parcel. For their parts, Scafaria, Manugian and Maher give good performances but don’t do much to stand out, although Manugian’s Amir does make a fairly ridiculous “bad boy.”

For the most part, I enjoyed Coherence: the film could be rough, at times (the lighting, in particular, was always rather flat and ugly), and it always felt like a few too many ideas were being stuffed into too small a space but there was no shortage of ambition here and many of the film’s concepts were the kind of next-level clever that you just don’t see in many films. While I ended up liking +1 just a little more (there’s something about that film’s gonzo pool-house siege scene that will forever reserve it a place in my heart), I will admit nothing but admiration for Byrkit’s debut. When it’s good, it’s subtly mind-blowing and is never anything less than completely thought-provoking. I, for one, will be eagerly awaiting Byrkit’s next film: if he can keep improving on the formula established here and tighten up the filmmaking, I have a feeling that he’ll be bending the fabric of space and time before we know it.

 

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12/27/14 (Part Four): Chaos, Dread and the Human Animal

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based on a book, Best of 2014, cinema, Danny Bensi, Denis Villeneuve, doppelgängers, doubles, Enemy, favorite films, film reviews, films, insanity, Isabella Rossellini, Jake Gyllenhaal, Javier Gullon, Jose Saramago, Kedar Brown, literary adaptation, Melanie Laurent, Movies, Nicolas Bolduc, Prisoners, Sarah Gadon, Saunder Jurriaans, secret societies, set in Canada, Spanish-Canadian films, spiders, surrealism, Tim Post, twins

For better or worse, I’ll probably remember 2014 as the cinematic year of the doppelgänger: while its true that film fads tend to come in groups (hello, superhero films…), there seemed to be something almost systematic and planned about the sheer number of double/doppelgänger movies that were released last year. Right off the top of my head, there was The Double, The One I Love, Coherence, +1, The Face of Love and Enemy…to be honest, I’m sure that I’ve even missed a couple somewhere along the way, which is always the best indication of a too-crowded field.

While I managed to see all of these doppelgänger films (with the exception of The Face of Love), there was one that stood head and shoulders above the rest: Denis Villeneuve’s Enemy, based on Jose Saramago’s novel, The Double. Not only was Enemy the best doppelgänger/double movie that I saw in a crowded field, it was also one of the very best films I saw all year. Paranoid, grim, heavy with sustained tension and more than a little existentially terrifying, Enemy is a modern classic, a cracked, black mirror that reflects back the unbelievable ugliness of our post-industrial era and asks us all to take a good, long look at our reflections.

In a way, Enemy hits all of the familiar beats in any doppelgänger film: it’s what it does with them that makes the film such a spectacularly creepy, unforgettable march towards insanity. Adam Bell (Jake Gyllenhaal) is a college history professor with what seems like a pretty mundane, run-of-the-mill life: he rides the bus to work, teaches a room full of bored young people about things like patterns and repetition and then goes home to have sex with his equally bored girlfriend (Melanie Laurent). Adam’s comfortable routine is shattered, however, after a co-worker makes a seemingly innocent movie recommendation. After watching the film, Adam notices something a little shocking: the waiter in one of the background shots is a spitting image of himself. After doing some lo-fi detective work (thanks, Google), Adam discovers that the actor, Daniel Saint Claire, is actually named Anthony Claire.

In short order, Adam is obsessed with his suave double and begins to follow him around, before progressing to calling his home and speaking with his wife, Helen (Sarah Gadon). In no time, Anthony is aware of Adam’s existence and the two schedule a face-to-face meeting in a no-tell-motel. Once the two men finally meet, however, the mystery only deepens: it turns out that Anthony is not only the exact image of Adam but that he also has all of Adam’s scars and birthmarks. Freaked out, Adam decides that he wants nothing to do with this bizarre situation and attempts to remove himself. As it turns out, however, Anthony is now just as intrigued as Adam and has no intention of letting him get away. As Adam finds his life becoming more intertwined with Anthony’s, he also runs the risk of losing his identity completely. What’s the real truth behind their relationship? What’s the deal with the strange, underground club that Anthony frequents? And just what, exactly, is right over the horizon, intent on wiping away the dividing line between fantasy and reality, between waking world and nightmare?

The very first thing you notice about Villeneuve’s film is the sickly yellow, jaundiced pallor that suffuses every frame of the film, from the very first shot to the very final image. It’s a diseased, queasy effect that perfectly meshes with the film’s unbelievably deep, sustained sense of dread to create something that could best be described as the apex of “feel-bad” cinema. When combined with the film’s choppy editing style and evocative score, the effect is all but suffocating: many films attempt to grab an audience and refuse to let go but Enemy is one of the very few that succeeds to such a fabulous degree. It’s absolutely no lie to say that I found myself nervous, tense, jittery and, to be honest, kind of seasick for the entirety of the film’s 90 minute run-time. There are many, many reasons to absolutely love Enemy but one of the very best reasons to admire the film is for that unbeatable sense of dread that Villeneuve threads through everything: you keep waiting for something terrible to happen…and waiting…and waiting…when terrible things finally do begin to happen, it’s not so much a release of the built-up tension as it is a confirmation of your worst fears. I can think of very few films from last year that even approached this level of tension, much less executed it so flawlessly: in this aspect, Enemy is heads-and-shoulders above most of its peers.

While the film looks and sounds amazing, there’s always an important factor to consider with any doppelgänger movie: the “twin” performances. In this case, Villeneuve coaxes some astounding work from Gyllenhaal, who’s quickly becoming one of this generation’s most intriguing, impressive actors. Unlike my complaints with Jesse Eisenberg’s performance in Richard Ayoade’s The Double (2014), Gyllenhaal is able to bring enough separation between Adam and Anthony to establish them as distinctly different personalities. It’s all in the small details: a smirk here, a squint there, the particular way in which one of the “twins” stands as compared to the other…there’s nothing as obvious as what Eisenberg did and Gyllenhaal’s performance is all the more impressive for it. In fact, I’m rather surprised that he appears to have snubbed during the awards talk rounding up the year: I found his performance to be exquisite, certainly better than his work the year before in Villeneuve’s Prisoners (2013) and, perhaps, the equal of his performance in Nightcrawler (2014), which I’ve yet to see.

If I can have one real complaint regarding the film’s performances, it would be that Melanie Laurent and Sarah Gadon get much less to do than Gyllenhaal does. While Gadon gets some nice scenes in the film’s final reel, Laurent never gets much to do beyond looking bored and reacting to what happens around her. It could be that Villeneuve and writer Javier Gullon purposefully kept the character of Mary slight, as a form of comparison with Adam, but it still seems like somewhat of a missed opportunity. While there’s virtually no reason to compare Enemy with Prisoners, aside from the obvious Villeneuve/Gyllenhaal connection, I can’t help but think back to Melissa Leo’s excellent performance in the latter and feel like Enemy really could have used a strong female presence to provide some balance.

One of the most impressive, unforgettable aspects of Enemy has to be the way in which Villeneuve combines the mundane, everyday aspects of the film with some truly surreal, nightmarish visual flourishes. While the oppressive yellow color palette is the most obvious, continual example of this, there are plenty of creepy, weird things happening in the margins and backgrounds of the film, along with some pretty outrageous showstoppers: I wouldn’t dream of spoiling any of the film’s surprises but suffice to say that Enemy featured two of my very favorite horror scenes of the year, which is doubly impressive considering that the film probably wouldn’t be considered a true horror film in most quarters.

Here’s the thing, though: Villeneuve and company understand that true horror, the soul-shattering, world-destroying kind, isn’t precipitated on fountains of gore and slick CGI monsters. True horror is based around dread and fear, the sustained, horrifying revelation that everything we think we know and hold dear is actually an illusion or, worse yet, a lie. In this aspect, Enemy is practically Lovecraftian: the film peels back the corner of our comfortable reality, revealing the howling, mad chaos that lurks behind everything. There’s a truly existential sense of horror here, the idea that everything we are can be wiped away in the blink of an eye, by forces too powerful and terrible for us to even begin to understand. Enemy ends before we get to see the “real” picture but we get enough of the image to know that what lies beneath the thin veil of reality is enough to end us all a hundred times over.

I’ll be honest: based on last year’s Prisoners, I wasn’t particularly impressed with Villeneuve. While the film was well-made and featured some truly great performances, it never really seemed to take off like it should have: by all accounts, I found Big Bad Wolves (2013) to be better than Prisoners in just about every way, including its darkly comic tone. This time around, however, I was completely blown away. Enemy is such a well-made, exquisitely crafted film that I’m now obligated to hitch my cart to Villeneuve’s wagon. There’s an intelligence, mystery and genuine sense of horror found here that I find all too rarely in films, regardless of their era or genre…to say that I’m eagerly awaiting Villeneuve’s next film might be a bit of an understatement. There are no easy answers to be found in Enemy: if anything, the film’s logic seems to intentionally frustrate any easy notions of understanding or empathy on the part of the audience. Enemy is a truly strange, alien, unsettling film and, without a doubt, one of the very best of the year.

12/14/14 (Part Three): I and I Can’t Survive

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1984, based on a book, British films, bureaucracy, Cathy Moriarty, cinema, confusing, dark comedies, dark films, doppelgängers, doubles, dramas, film reviews, films, Franz Kafka, Fyodor Dostoevsky, insanity, J. Mascis, James Fox, James Simon, Jesse Eisenberg, literary adaptation, loss of identity, Mia Wasikowska, Movies, Noah Taylor, office romances, Richard Ayoade, Simon James, Submarine, suicide, surrealism, The Double, UK films, Wallace Shawn, writer-director, Yasmin Paige

For better or worse, we appear to have experienced a bit of a renaissance in doppelgänger/double films over the past decade: The Prestige (2006), Timecrimes (2007), Moon (2009), Black Swan (2010), Another Earth (2011), The Face of Love (2013), +1 (2013), Enemy (2013), and The One I Love (2014) have all dealt with the rather nightmarish experience of coming face to face with yourself and the resultant difficulties that inevitably result from such meetings. While the above films are all (for the most part) as different from each other as possible, they all share the paranoid idea that, somewhere out there, there’s an exact duplicate of you just waiting to step into your shoes and take over your life. To this group, be sure to add writer-director-actor Richard Ayoade’s newest film, The Double (2014), a blackly comic adaptation of Fyodor Dostoevsky’s same-named novel that came out a mere two months after another similarly plotted film, Denis Villeneuve’s Enemy (2014)…talk about doubling your pleasure, eh?

What’s fueling this sudden interest in doubles? While plenty of folks have their own ideas, I think it has a lot to do with our society’s uncontrollable need to be “the best possible _____” we can be. In an age where fame is only a YouTube video away and social media contacts are worth more than any over-stuffed Rolodex, many folks must be coming to the conclusion that their “allotted” measure of fame has somehow been held-up, way-laid by some unknown force. If everybody is getting famous and you aren’t, there has to be a good reason: perhaps, just perhaps, you’re not getting what’s coming to you because another version of you is. Maybe you aren’t the next singing sensation because your doppelgänger already got a contract. Perhaps there’s another version of you that’s more successful with the opposite sex, wealthier, more powerful, etc…The whole concept of doppelgängers provides a handy “out” for those folks who just can’t seem to secure a foothold on the ladder of success: it’s not my fault…the “other” me got there first!

Jesse Eisenberg stars as Simon James, the neebishy, milquetoast and nearly non-existent office worker who toils his days away in an oddly anonymous company run by the eccentric fellow know only as The Colonel (James Fox). Living a life of quiet, tedious desperation, Simon has worked at the company for seven years, yet still has trouble being recognized by the overly officious front-desk guard (Kobna Holdbrook-Smith) or even his own supervisor, Mr. Papadopoulos (Wallace Shawn). Simon also pines, in silence, for his lovely, yet equally odd, co-worker, Hannah (Mia Wasikowska), although she doesn’t seem to exist, either. This doesn’t stop Simon from peering at her apartment through his telescope, however, but it does (probably) preclude him from ever asking her out. Not to put to fine a point on it but Simon’s life is pretty damn shitty.

Things take a turn for the bizarre one night, however, when Simon chances to see someone jumping from an apartment across the way: the figure seems to smile and wave at Simon before leaping, which the poor guy finds suitably distressing. Imagine his further distress, then, when he seems to spy an exact double of himself through another apartment window. Faster than you can say “double your pleasure,” Simon’s company has just hired a dynamic new employee, someone who looks awful familiar: James Simon. As is par for the course with most doppelgänger films, James is pretty much the exact opposite of Simon: he’s outgoing, boisterous, popular, suave, aggressive and sly, all things that poor Simon has no experience with whatsoever. At first, James offers to help Simon woo Hannah, in exchange for posing as him and taking some aptitude tests. In short order, however, James has insinuated himself into every aspect of Simon’s life, stealing the credit for his work, blaming his foibles (such as seducing Mr. Popadopoulos’ daughter) on Simon and getting extremely friendly with Hannah.

As James appears to take over more and more of Simon’s life, the other man finds himself losing what little identity he appeared to have. A co-worker calls Simon a “non-entity” and the loss of his pass-card puts him in a completely untenable situation: he doesn’t exist, since he’s not in the system, but can’t get into the system unless he has a card, which he can’t get unless he’s in the system…a classic Catch-22 if ever there was one. Just when Simon’s situation seems as hopeless as it could possibly get, he hatches a desperate plan to get James out of his life forever. Will Simon be able to reclaim his identity? Is James as real as Simon? Can two objects occupy the same space, at the same time? If not, who will be left standing when the dust clears: meek Simon or assertive James? But most importantly: just what the hell is actually going on here in the first place?

Ayoade’s adaptation of The Double has quite a bit going for, not least of which is the film’s intriguing look, a visual style which splits the difference between the lo-tech dystopia of films like 1984 (1984), Brazil (1985) and Barton Fink (1991) and something like the noirish Gothica of Proyas’ Dark City (1998). None of the machines in the film, office or otherwise, look quite “right” and it’s impossible to assign any sort of time-period to the film: it might take place in 1950, 2050 or 12050, for all we know. Despite looking great, David Crank’s production design does have one unforeseen side-effect: rather than feeling like Dostoevsky, The Double often feels more in line with one of Kafka’s paranoid nightmares. While other critics have pointed this out as one of the film’s most damning flaws, I must politely disagree: as far as your humble host is concerned, the film’s production aspects are the most impressive thing about it…dig below the surface, however, and things get a bit dicier.

For one thing, the acting in the film tends to be rather hit-or-miss. Eisenberg is quite believable as the neebishy Simon but somewhat less so as the charismatic James. While playing opposite yourself is never the easiest acting gig, I’m instantly reminded of Mark Duplass’ much more interesting, dichotomous performance in the far-superior The One I Love: in that film, Duplass was able to portray both halves of himself as completely different, if inherently connected, individuals…they walked differently, talked differently…even smiled differently. Here, the differences between Simon and James are not only less consistent (James is never quite as assholey as he should be) but far less interesting. While I’ve never been the world’s biggest Eisenberg fan, I fully realize that he’s capable of much more than he does here.

The actor who really gets the short-end of the stick, however, is Wasikowska. So fascinating and vibrant in films like Albert Nobbs (2011), Stoker (2013) and Only Lovers Left Alive (2013), Wasikowska is completely wasted here: made into more of a non-entity than even Simon, Hannah flits like a ghost from scene to scene, affecting nothing and matters not one iota, in the grand scheme of things. Her only expression seems to be a mild hint of confusion (or is it just gas?) and we get so little character development as to make her seem more symbolic than anything else. While several aspects of the film disappointed me, few were as vexing as the complete marginalization of Wasikowska.

The single biggest issue with the film, however, is just how hollow and meaningless the whole thing, ultimately, ends up feeling. While never intended as a particularly “warm” bit of entertainment, I was still expecting to feel something by the end of the final reel. As it stands, however, the only emotions I really walked out with were my previously mentioned disappointment, along with an overriding sense of frustration over the needlessly complex conclusion. Truth be told, the ending of the film makes absolutely no sense, even from a purely symbolic standpoint: perhaps I would need to go back and reread the original novel but The Double’s head-scratching finale felt more like philosophy freshmen riffing than any sort of “real” conclusion.

For all of this, however, I still find myself in the odd position of not really disliking the film…at least, not much. Despite the film’s many flaws, Richard Ayoade is an extremely talented filmmaker – his debut, Submarine (2010), is a rather excellent coming-of-age flick and the craftwork behind The Double is quite nice. I’ve always been a sucker for this kind of dystopic worldview and dystopia is one thing that The Double has in bushels. There are plenty of creepy moments to be found here (Simon’s first glimpse of “himself” is a real goosebump-raiser), along with some thought-provoking ideas about what it means to “be yourself,” as well as the frightening notion that, somewhere out there, there’s a more accomplished version of yourself then you’ll ever be. For a society obsessed with being the very best, this may be the hardest pill of all to swallow: no matter how much you want it, some thing’s are just out of your control.

12/6/14 (Part One): Love You Two Times

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Being John Malkovich, Best of 2014, black comedies, cinema, couples' therapy, dopplegangers, doubles, Elisabeth Moss, feature-film debut, film reviews, films, ideal self, independent films, indie films, infidelity, marital issues, Mark Duplass, marriage, Movies, romances, small cast, surreal, Ted Danson, The One I Love, troubled marriages

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: A husband and wife go see a marriage counselor after repeated attempts to put the spark back into their rocky relationship fail miserably. The therapist invites the couple to spend the weekend, on their own, at his isolated estate: away from the hustle and bustle of the outside world, he theorizes that the pair will be able to reconnect and rediscover what first drew them to each other. Once there, however, the husband and wife continue to bicker and pick at each other, right up until the point where they discover their doppelgängers living in the guest-house: their doubles appear to exemplify each person’s “better” qualities but also seem unable to leave the guest-house. As the wife begins to fall in love with her husband’s “double,” her real husband must do everything he can to try to woo her back from “himself.” As the rules of space and time appear to be collapsing on themselves, the couple must make one last, desperate stand to preserve their marriage and, by extension, themselves: failure to do so may very well change the world…forever. Same old, same old, right?

Yeah, I didn’t think so.

Every once in a while, a film comes along that is so genuinely “out there,” so free of ties to conventional thought that it can’t help but stick out from the pack. Spike Jonze’s oddball Being John Malkovich (1999) is one such film, Jason Banker’s Toad Road (2012) is another. We could easily add Ben Wheatley’s amazing head-scratcher A Field in England (2013) to the list, saving a spot near the top for Jonathan Glazer’s Under the Skin (2013). Whatever you do, however, don’t forget to set a place at the table for Charlie McDowell’s feature-debut, The One I Love (2014), a genius film that manages to take the romantic-comedy, turn it inside out, spray-paint the carcass metallic gold, attach some rockets and send the whole damn thing straight into apace. It’s an incredibly simple film, utilizing only three actors and two locations, yet feels a million times more complex, stuffed to bursting with the kind of casual metaphysical nonsense that would be persona non grata in anything more “mainstream.” It is, without a doubt, one of my very favorite films of the year and, as far as I’m concerned, a cult classic in the making.

It’s hard to explain why the film works so well but I’ll give it the old college try. For one thing, you have an absolutely unbeatable cast: indie-film darling Mark Duplass has always been a lot of fun to watch (cold-start any given episode of The League for proof) but he’s never been better than he is here, effectively playing two very different characters, often at the exact same time. It’s a great performance because of how subtle it is: it’s not quite as simple as “alternative” Ethan being laid-back while “real” Ethan is uptight: Duplass works with his body language, facial expressions, posture and everything else at his disposal to really set these up as different individuals. There’s none of that hoary-old “which witch is which?” shit because both Marks are distinctly different individuals, even they seem to be opposite sides of the same coin.

Fans of Moss’ performances in Mad Men and Top of the Lake will already know what a gifted actor she is, able to easily portray the sad lot of the outsider without ever coming across as pitiable or in need of “saving.” Her performance here, like Duplass’, is a masterpiece of modulation: the differences between the two Sophies are even more subtle than between the Ethans, yet Moss still manages to make them distinctly different characters. Indeed, it’s Moss complete mastery of her characters that allows the final image to pack such a wallop. If it wasn’t completely obvious before, let’s go ahead and get it out-of-the-way right now: Elisabeth Moss is a force to be reckoned with and it wouldn’t surprise me one bit if The One I Love was the beginning of her ascent into the stardom that she so richly deserves. It would be a career-making performance if Moss wasn’t already doing just fine: it’s just more proof that we need much, much more of her onscreen.

As a filmmaker, McDowell is an absolutely formidable presence. While the script (the feature-length debut for short writer Justin Lader) is rock-solid and pokes some suitably large holes in moldy rom-com clichés, it’s the director’s subtle touches that really make the film stand out. For one thing, I love how the ominous, foreboding score was almost always at odds with the action on-screen: from the get-go, the film makes us feel uneasy and edgy, which sits at decided odds with the Portlandia-esque opening banter between Duplass and Moss. We never have any idea which direction the film is going to take which ends up paying massive dividends in the second half when things really get hairy. It’s a smart, economical way to build mood and managed to put a big, dumb smile on my face from the jump.

I’m also rather enamored with the way McDowell (and Lader) combine so many disparate genres/themes/ideas into one big stew, tossing in elements of romantic comedies, troubled marriage dramas, intelligent sci-fi and double/doppelgänger films. It’s even possible to read the film as a horror movie, albeit an extremely tricky one: we never do get the full story of what’s going on but the bits and pieces we’re fed seem to point to some pretty sinister, mysterious things happening just off in the film’s margins. Ted Danson’s therapist is a fantastically shadowy character: the bit where he uses a piano to measure how “in tune” Ethan and Sophie are is nicely realized. If I have one real complaint with the film, it’s that Danson’s performance amounts to a glorified cameo: he deserved more screen time, plain and simple.

A lot of films get called “thought-provoking,” but The One I Love is one of the very few that earns the designation. The film not only makes some incredibly astute observations about marriage (there’s a painfully honest scene where Sophie discusses “real” Ethan’s infidelity with “fake” Ethan that’s almost too real to watch) but also manages to make the sci-fi/doppelgänger angle completely organic. The film makes absolutely no attempt to explain anything but, as far as I’m concerned, that’s one of its prime strengths: the remarkable amount of audience hand-holding. The One I Love is a film that doesn’t pander, relying on the antiquated idea that the audience won’t be too stupid to follow along. Suffice to say that I felt thoroughly satisfied with the resolution, even if nothing was wrapped up with a shiny bow.

If it hasn’t been made plainly clear before, I absolutely adored The One I Love. As a post-modern take on the romantic-comedy, it’s pretty much in a class all its own: there’s just enough ties to the old-school to make it recognizable, yet so much ferocious innovation as to let it easily stand out.  The acting was impeccable (if anything, I wanted more of everyone, not less) and looked like a million bucks. I had more fun watching this film than I have in quite a while. The One I Love is Charlie McDowell’s debut feature and, if you’re smart, you’ll keep an eye on him: I have a feeling he’s got a long, amazing career ahead of him.

5/12/14: Everybody Has a Twin

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+1, Adam David Thompson, Ashley Hinshaw, Ashley Winshaw, Bill Gullo, cinema, college parties, Dennis Iliadis, doppelgängers, dopplegangers, doubles, film reviews, films, Francis Ford Coppola, horror, horror films, keggers, Logan Miller, Mihai Malaimare Jr., Movies, Natalie Hall, parallel universe, Peter Zimmerman, Plus One, Primer, Project X, Rhys Wakefield, Rohan Kymal, sci-fi, Suzanne McCloskey, The Last House on the Left, Timecrimes, wild parties, youth in trouble

There’s something quite magical about a previously unknown film exceeding expectations. Not meeting them, mind you: that happens quite frequently. No, I’m talking about that special thrill that can only happen when you expect a movie to go through the motions only to discover that it’s actually a smarter, scrappier little bastard than you thought. The best example I can think of in this regard is Hobo with a Shotgun (2011): while I wasn’t expecting anything more than a stupid, gory attempt to set up shop in Troma-land, I fell completely in love with the film after one viewing, finding it to be the freshest, funniest, funkiest pile of gold-plated junk I’d seen in a blue moon. While Dennis Iliadis’ +1 (Plus One) doesn’t fire me up in the same way that Hobo did, it’s a massively impressive effort: I went in expecting one of those moronic “megaparty” films “with a twist,” but I was actually greeted with something that aspires a little closer to Timecrimes (2007) than Project X (2012). It’s not perfect, by any stretch of the imagination. but it is interesting, quick-paced, intelligent and just tricky enough to inspire a repeat viewing. Looks like I better keep my eye on this Iliadis dude: us Greeks can be a tricky lot!

In many ways, +1 is two separate films, joined at the hip: a megaparty, youth-getting-crazy-and-finding-love movie and a batshit crazy horror story about a strange meteor and murderous doppelgängers. If it sounds like those halves make ill-fitting companions, you’re right: there’s absolutely no way this should work (it even looks sketchy on paper). For whatever reason, however, it ends up working perfectly: my biggest issues with the film tend to be the ultra-cliched party scenes but I have issues with those kinds of films/scenes whenever I see them (without a doubt, The Kitchen (2012) had one of the worst “parties” I’ve ever seen in a film). The doppelgänger aspect, however, is handled with some real wit and nerve, albeit in a slightly confusing manner. Since Timecrimes and Primer (2004) were both complete head-scratchers, however, I’m willing to grant that the subjects of time travel and alternate versions of ourselves may be just a little more complex than the average multiplex feature can handle, at least beyond the Hot Tub Time Machine (2010) level.

The film begins with a nice little bit of foreshadowing, as our hero, David (Rhys Wakefield, kind of a poor-man’s James Van der Beek), makes a bit of a mistake after his girlfriend’s fencing match. You see, he goes to kiss who he thinks is Jill (Ashley Hinshaw) but ends up kissing a girl who’s her spitting image…but definitely not her. Jill sees this and before David knows it, he’s been unfriended on Facebook: shit just got serious, folks! Looking to drown his sorrows, David lets his shithead friend, Teddy (Logan Miller), drag him to one of those epic college keggers that seem to involve 5000 people and always get shut-down by the cops. Who should be at the party, of course, but Jill, who’s attending with her new gentleman friend, Steve (Peter Zimmerman)? As expected, this bums David way the hell out: how’s a guy supposed to kick back when his ex is sucking face with some jerk? Hoping to succeed where generations of movie heroes have failed, David moves through and around the party, hoping to get Jill alone so that he can win her back. Teddy, in the meantime, has his eyes set on Melanie (Natalie Hall): she’s out of his luck, of course, but how’s a guy gonna know if doesn’t try? Meanwhile, the party’s host, Angad (Rohan Kymal, mugging as if the bus will explode if he doesn’t go big at every opportunity), has his own problems, since the party (complete with outdoor stage, strippers and live music) keeps getting bigger and bigger. Stay cool and have a great summer, guys!

And then, just when it seems that all hope is lost (for us, not our heroes: they always do okay), the film decides to drop the other show: a meteor plummets from the heavens to earth, exploding into brilliant, blue electrical energy when it hits. The energy jolts into a nearby powerline, which causes a temporary power outage. David is looking in a mirror when the power cuts: when it comes back on, he’s looking one way but his reflection is looking the other way. The game, as they say, is on.

From this point on, +1 manages to graft both halves of the film together and, a few ugly stitches notwithstanding, it’s a pretty seamless job. As David, Teddy and their friend, Allison (Suzanne McCloskey), quickly figure out, there now appears to be two of everyone. As a further twist, however, the doubles don’t seem to be aware of each other (yet), as they’re on slightly different timelines than the “real people”: the doppelgängers replay incidents that happened shortly beforehand, so they’re (technically) always a little behind the real partygoers. When the real party moves outside, however, and the doppelgängers take over the house, it becomes pretty clear that these parallel lines are moving rapidly towards a collision point. Ever the opportunist, David sees a “surefire” way to get back Jill: if he can only get to her doppelgänger, David can use information from his last conversation with the “real” Jill to re-romance the double. Will he be able to get back his “normal” life by doing something decidedly strange? How different is “real” Jill from “fake” Jill? For that matter, how different is “real” David from “fake” David? As the “time-difference” between the real people and their doppelgängers gets smaller and smaller, a new wrinkle is revealed: rough-neck drug-dealer Kyle (Adam David Thompson) gets shot in the head by his own double. With this incident comes a terrifying new question: what, exactly, will happen when the doppelgängers “catch up” to the real people?

While +1 is a little rough out of the gate (despite the clever opening situation), it quickly settles into quite the tense, action-packed little marvel. As mentioned earlier, the megaparty stuff is all pretty stupid and shallow, although I’m definitely not the audience for that kind of film. “Woo-girls” run around in Native American headdresses, chugging red cups. A bunch of broish dudes eat sushi off a naked Japanese woman before offending her and receiving some righteous jump kicks as punishment (really). A bunch of the idiots decide to play tennis, indoors, with a flaming tennis ball. Yes, a flaming fucking tennis ball. When the flames set a curtain on fire, do they panic? Naw, brah: they just wait for the sprinklers to kick on and dance in the water! Yeah…it’s unrepentantly dumb and, combined with some idiocy over which band gets to play and the bizarre strip show outside, the whole thing feels sort of like a dinner-theater version of Coachella.

Stick with it, however, and that most magical of things happens: it actually bears fruit. While much of the banality from the party scenes is just that, many other elements get reworked and filtered back through a new lens once the doppelgängers enter the picture. Certain scenes that formerly made no sense, on their own, are now seen in the bigger mosaic of the film and it’s a pretty smart move. There’s also no shortage of genuine tension in the film, including an absolutely brilliant scene where Allison’s doppelganger is being followed by a bitchy rival, who is being pursued by the real Allison. The three form a pretty great conga line and it’s edge-of-the-seat time as we realize that any look over a shoulder blows the whole thing to hell. Very smart. There are also some fantastically edgy moments as the real people wait, terrified, as the timelines get closer and closer together: since the audience has no idea how this technically works, we’re in the exact same boat as the party-goers, sort of a flip on that whole “we become the victim” idea in slashers.

There’s so much that genuinely works in +1 that I almost feel bad for the stuff that doesn’t, although none of it irreparably harms the film. The special effects (the “alien fire” and flaming tennis ball) are astoundingly awful: worse than direct-to-video awful, if I can be so bold. The acting tends to range from decent to kinda awful, although I also got the feeling that many of these actors were of the “I need a bunch of folks for a crowd-scene” variety. The principals do pretty good, for the most part, with Logan Miller being particularly impressive: I started the movie absolutely hating the loathsome, douchebag character of Teddy but he managed to (eventually) win me over. Similarly, I felt that Rohan Kymal’s Angad was always too over-the-top, although even he had several nicely nuanced scenes, particularly once the shit really hits the fan.

Director Iliadis’ previous claim to fame was the remake of The Last House on the Left (2009), which I haven’t seen, but I enjoyed +1 enough to be curious about that one, as well. I don’t like everything he does here but there’s enough wild invention to glide me over the rougher aspects. Cinematographer Mihai Malaimaire Jr. was the guy responsible for shooting Francis Ford Coppola’s last three films — Youth Without Youth (2007), Tetro (2009) and Twixt (2011) — as well as P.T. Anderson’s The Master (2012). While there’s nothing overly showy about the cinematography, the shots are always nicely composed and he has a way with depth of field that leads to some very interesting reveals. At the very least, the film has a much richer, deeper look than one would expect from this type of “party hardy” environment.

While +1 isn’t perfect, it’s a damn sight more interesting than many more “prestigious” films that I’ve seen over the past six months or so. At one point, the “real” characters get into a discussion about what makes the doppelgängers different from their “originals.” As one person points out, the doppelgängers can’t be the same, technically, since they’ve had different experiences than the originals have (especially towards the end, when things get bad). If you think really, really hard, it’s a pretty mind-blowing concept, especially within the framework of the story: does your mirror image have a life of its own on the other side of the glass? Where does it go when you walk away? What makes a being intelligent…and what makes it unique? These are the kinds of questions I might expect from a highfalutin sci-fi slow-burner or something by Aronofsky. When I can get things like this in a movie that also features flaming indoor tennis, I consider myself a mighty lucky man, indeed.

2/11/14: That is the Question

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actors, Alan Johnson, Anna Bronski, Anne Bancroft, auteur theory, Blazing Saddles, Charles Durning, Christopher Lloyd, cinema, comedies, doubles, Film auteurs, film reviews, films, Frederick Bronski, imposters, invasion of Poland, Jose Ferrer, Life Stinks, Mel Brooks, Movies, multiple roles, musical numbers, Nazis, period-piece, Robin Hood: Men in Tights, Ronny Graham, screwball comedies, Spaceballs, spies, The Producers, theatre group, Thomas Meehan, Tim Matheson, To Be or Not To Be, World War II, Young Frankenstein

Pound for pound, there are probably few comedic writer/director/actors with the kind of resume that Mel Brooks has. Even if they haven’t all been winners (and Life Stinks (1991), Robin Hood: Men in Tights (1993) and Dracula: Dead and Loving It (1995) definitely belong in the “Not Winning” category), Brooks has been responsible for some truly indelible, classic films. Try and imagine a world without The Producers (1967), Blazing Saddles (1974), Young Frankenstein (1974), High Anxiety (1977) or Spaceballs (1987)…that’s right: not a pretty picture is it, pal? Achievements as big as those tend to buy you an awful lot of goodwill, after all, and if the last 23 years of Brook’s career haven’t been as great as the first 24 years…well, the guy has kind of earned the right to rest on his laurels a bit.

For my money, Brooks is at his most unstoppable when he’s writing, directing and acting simultaneously (although this didn’t do anything to resuscitate his last three films, ironically enough). I think he’s a great actor but his kind of broad performance type is really only well-suited to his own over-the-top, joke-a-minute writing style. In anything where the jokes don’t come quite so fast and furious, however, such as Screw Loose (1999), Brooks often comes across as a fish-out-of-water. For some reason, that pliable mug of his absolutely flourishes in screwball territory.

To Be or Not To Be, directed by Brooks’ longtime choreographer Alan Johnson (the genius behind the Springtime for Hitler and Puttin’ on the Ritz segments in The Producers and Young Frankenstein, respectively) is a decent, if not revelatory, Brooks vehicle that marks one of the last (small) hurrahs in his career, followed four years later by Spaceballs (the last Brooks film that I truly enjoyed, including the patently awful remake of The Producers from 2005). While Brooks didn’t write or direct the film, writers Thomas Meehan and Ronny Graham would go on to write Spaceballs, making this a bit of a dry run for Brooks Star Wars-parody.

While To Be or Not To Be never quite scales the dizzying heights of previous Brooks’ classics, there are still plenty of genuine laughs to be found here, although nothing really too deep to think about. Technically a remake of a 1942 Jack Benny film, To Be or Not to Be details the attempts by a group of Polish actors and military personnel to identify and do away with a German double-agent on the eve of Germany’s invasion of Poland. Frederick Bronski (Brooks) and his wife, Anna (Anne Bancroft, in a deliriously giddy role) must deal with the spy (played by a virtually unrecognizable Jose Ferrer), asinine Nazi commandants (side-splitting turns by Charles During and Christopher Lloyd) and a randy Polish pilot (Tim Matheson) who wants to free Poland from the Germans and Anna from her stage-clothes, possibly in reverse order.

Although To Be or Not To Be is nowhere near the laugh riot of Brook’s earlier films, it’s probably unfair to assume that it would be. For one thing, To Be or Not To Be tends to be one of Brooks’ plot-heaviest confections (this still isn’t Solaris, mind you, but probably has the most convoluted plot since The Producers), so there’s much less of an emphasis on rapid-fire gags and more emphasis on running jokes and elongated payoffs. To Be or Not To Be is also (technically) a remake, so it suffers from a certain further sense of removal from the rest of Brooks’ oeuvre.

That being said, To Be or Not To Be is still filled with some truly great, hilarious moments. One of Bronski’s shows is called Naughty Nazis and is just as delightful as the ridiculous title would indicate (“A Little Piece of Poland” is a pretty amazing tune) and his Shakespearian “greatest hits” performance, titled “Highlights From Hamlet,” is good enough to get its own full-length. There’s a great running gag about the theatre troupe hiding Jewish refugees in the basement (Bronski’s reaction, upon seeing that “a couple” has turned into “a lot” is classic Brooks) and the bit where Bronski, dressed as Hitler, walks into a British pub and innocently inquires: “Is this England?” is just about as good as silly absurdist humor gets.

The acting, as a whole, is quite good, although Christopher Lloyd and Charles Durning easily steal any scene they appear in. Lloyd, in particular, is absolutely marvelous as Capt. Schultz, the stone-faced Nazi who has zero time for any shenanigans. It’s a wonderful change-of-pace role for Lloyd, something that really surprised (and delighted) me. Truth be told: we could have used a whole lot more Lloyd in the film. Bancroft is obviously hanging a blast playing the ditzy-but-canny Anna and there’s some genuinely nice chemistry between her and Brooks. Matheson is just fine in the kind of fresh-faced-rube role that he routinely pulled-off in his sleep, although his character is never asked to be much more than agreeable, bland wallpaper.

The whole film culminates in a circus-clown inspired escape attempt that manages to be both genuinely funny and truly nail-biting: this heightened sense of real tension was something that felt new for Brooks’ films: even edgy fare like Blazing Saddles, despite its storyline, often felt fairly low-stakes whereas we frequently get the impression (in To Be or Not to Be) that any of these characters could die at any time. That’s not to say that the film is ever grim (or even particularly serious, most of the time) but there is definitely the potential for deep tragedy here.

Ultimately, To Be or Not to Be sits pretty comfortably in the middle of Mel Brooks’ canon. While it’s nowhere near as good as his classics (but really…what is?), it’s certainly no where near as dire as his (to this point) final three films were. I’ll probably always consider Spaceballs to be Brooks “final” film, but To Be or Not To Be wasn’t a terrible lead-up to it.