8/16/15 (Part Two): Two Against the World

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A Most Violent Year, Abel Morales, Albert Brooks, Alessandro Nivola, Alex Ebert, All Is Lost, American Dream, Ben Rosenfield, Bradford Young, capitalism, Catalina Sandino Moreno, Christopher Abbott, cinema, corruption, David Margulies, David Oyelowo, dramas, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, Elyes Gabel, family business, film reviews, films, Giselle Eisenberg, heating oil, heists, hijacking, husband-wife relationship, husband-wife team, immigrants, J.C. Chandor, Jason Ralph, Jerry Adler, Jessica Chastain, John Procaccino, Margin Call, Movies, New York City, oil industry, organized crime, Orthodox Jews, Oscar Isaac, period-piece, personal codes, Peter Gerety, Pico Alexander, Quinn Meyers, Ron Patane, set in New York City, set in the 1980's, snubbed at the Oscars, suicide, the American Dream, writer-director

While most people will freely admit to having some sort of unalterable moral code, the reality is much less black and white: I’m willing to wager that we’ve all compromised our personal codes, from time to time…that’s just what life is about. Perhaps you’ve tolerated prejudicial beliefs from an otherwise beloved relative. Perhaps you’re an environmentalist who’s taken a soul-killing corporate job with a King Kong-sized carbon footprint in order to pay the bills. When faced with the choice between suffering for our “code” or bending our beliefs in order to achieve some measure of happiness, it’s tempting to say that we would all be able to stand firm in the face of adversity. It’s tempting, sure…but is it true?

Abel Morales (Oscar Isaac), one half of the married couple that stands at the exact center of writer/director J.C. Chandor’s A Most Violent Year (2014), is a man with one of those aforementioned “unalterable moral codes,” an individual who prides himself on always taking “the path that is most right.” Abel is a man with principles, with drive, ambition and an internal compass that always keeps him oriented towards true north…or, as it turns out, his own personal notion of true north. When his world begins to collapse around him, however, Abel will be forced into a rather unenviable position: greet his massing enemies with the violence and corruption that they’ve shown him or stick to his code and, quite possibly, become nothing more than a minor footnote in someone else’s story. As Pink Floyd so eloquently put it: “a walk-on part in the war or a lead role in a cage”…Abel can have either one but he can’t have both.

Kicking off in the Big Apple during the titular “violent year” (also known as 1981), Chandor’s newest opus concerns Abel and his wife, Anna (an absolutely ferocious Jessica Chastain), as they try to carve out their own piece of the American Dream. They own a heating oil company and have just started the process to acquire a prime piece of seafront real estate, all the better to bring in their own shipments directly and cut out the middle man. While Abel tries to pull together the $1.5 million that he’ll need for the deal, he also must deal with a raft of other problems including his mercenary competitors, a nearly non-stop barrage of violent fuel hijacking and an overly zealous district attorney (David Oyelowo) who’s been investigating the Morales’ company for several years.

After another series of thefts, including one where one of Abel’s drivers, Julian (Elyes Gabel), gets his jaw broken, the head of the teamsters (Peter Gerety) insists that all of Abel’s drivers be issued handguns: he refuses to put his men into any more unsafe situations, despite Abel’s protests that faked gun permits are only going to add to his legal woes. As this is going on, Abel surprises an intruder in his home, a shady individual who drops a gun as he flees. Anna, putting two and two together, realizes that the attempted invasion might not be part of the year’s “crime wave” but actually related to their current problems with the company. The message is clear: the Morales’ aren’t safe anywhere, including their own home.

As Abel watches his carefully constructed plan fall apart, piece by piece, he’s goaded by his loose-cannon wife to take more drastic, unsavory measures: she’s the daughter of a mobster, after all, and those guys always know how to take care of business. Abel has that aforementioned “personal code,” however, and he’s determined to do everything on the up-and-up, even if it means putting his family and business through the wringer. When Julian gets attacked again and takes matters into his own hands, however, it forces Abel to scramble and try to put all the pieces back together before his time runs out on the real estate deal. Will Abel stick to his code or will he give in to the violence around him and respond in kind? Will he become the monster that he fears in order to get the life that he deserves?

Extremely stylish, beautifully shot and as cold as an iceberg, A Most Violent Year packs plenty of punch but still manages to fall short (to this viewer, at least) of Chandor’s previous film, the “Redford on a boat” mini-epic, All is Lost (2013). There’s plenty to like and respect here, no doubt: Chandor is a sure-hand as both writer and director, displaying an admirable ability to cut the fat and get right to the meat of the situation. That being said, A Most Violent Year feels too long and bloated for the relatively simple story beats involved: the structure and pacing feel off, leaving too much “dead air” and sapping some of the film’s forward momentum.

One aspect of the film that manages to shoot for the moon and score brilliantly, however, is the extraordinary performances. Front to back, A Most Violent Year is loaded with so many memorable performances and masterfully acted scenes that he handily establishes itself as a real actors’ showcase. The supporting cast, alone, would make the film worth a watch under any other circumstances: Albert Brooks turns in another great, weary performance as Abel’s lawyer/confidant; Oyelowo is solid as a rock as the dogged D.A.; Gabel offers up some genuine anguish as the conflicted Julian (the parallels between his failure and Abel’s success are one of the film’s most subtle motifs) and Jerry Adler (perhaps best known for his recurring roles as Hesh in The Sopranos) brings a surprisingly gentle, paternal quality to his performance as the Orthodox Jewish owner of the property that Abel and Anna are trying to buy.

The real stars of the show, however, are undoubtedly Oscar Isaac and Jessica Chastain. For his part, Isaac downplays the character of Abel masterfully, allowing all of the anger, frustration and fear to bubble and boil just below the surface until it finally explodes skyward in a truly volcanic display. He’s a case study in restraint and chilly resolve and Isaac works wonders with nothing so much as a soft word and piercing glare.

Chastain, on the other hand, is a completely unrestrained force of nature, the raging hurricane that tosses the rest of the cast around like so much flying junk. To not put too fine a point on it, she’s absolutely astounding in the film: it’s impossible to look away whenever she’s onscreen. From the stunning showpiece where she blows away the wounded deer to the fist-raising moment where she tells Oyelowo’s D.A. just where he can shove it, Chastain’s Anna is, easily, one of the most memorable modern cinematic creations.

Less Kay Corleone than Ma Barker, Anna is the true power behind the throne and Chastain tears into the role with absolute gusto. The fact that she wasn’t nominated for an Oscar only goes to show how vapid that particular process is: the fact that her performance was considered a “supporting” role in other nominations only goes to show how flawed that rationale is. Quite plainly, Chastain is as much a part of A Most Violent Year as Isaac is…perhaps more so, to be honest.

Despite the top-shelf performances, gorgeous cinematography (Bradford Young also shot Selma (2014), giving him two prestige pictures in the same year), great score (despite not caring for Alex Ebert’s main gig in Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, his score is absolutely perfect) and effective mise en scene, I still found myself slightly let down by the whole thing. Perhaps it speaks more to personal choice than any major flaws in the film (short of really trite ending to Julian’s arc, there aren’t many major missteps) but A Most Violent Year never quite struck me as “essential,” merely very well-made.

In truth, short of two chase scenes (one decent, the other a real showstopper), the whole film ends up being rather uneventful. Sure, Abel and Anna are faced with a seemingly insurmountable array of problems but each issue ends up being resolved a bit too casually to provide much tension. The resolution of the Julian storyline, the resolution of the fuel hijacking, the resolution of the property deal…in each case, it feels as if Abel and Anna are plucked from the stew-pot just as the water begins to get nice and hot. One of the things that really struck me about the chase scene between Abel and the hijackers is how unhinged and dangerous it felt: for that brief time period, I really found myself questioning the outcome. Were that overriding sense of danger more present throughout the film, perhaps it might have gripped me a little tighter.

Ultimately, A Most Violent Year is a film that deserves no small amount of praise: the performances, alone, are enough to make this a must-watch. That being said, it’s also a film that never quite sunk its claws into me, never quite demanded my complete adoration. Perhaps, in the end, A Most Violent Year is a perfect case of “different strokes for different folks”: extremely well-made and quite evocative, there’s nothing overtly wrong with the film, yet it never quit kicks like it’s supposed to.

That’s quite alright, however: I’ll keep looking forward to Chandor’s films just like I have ever since All is Lost proved him to be a modern master. In an age where “bigger, louder, dumber” seems to rule the box-office, we could always use more films like A Most Violent Year. Essential? Not quite. Worth your time? Without a shadow of a doubt.

2/6/14: The Worst Trip He’s Ever Been On (Oscar Bait, Part 6)

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Academy Award Nominee, Academy Awards, action films, Barkhad Abdi, based on a book, based on a true story, Best Picture nominee, Best Supporting Actor nominee, Captain Phillips, cinema, film reviews, films, hijacking, hostages, lifeboat, Movies, Muse, Navy SEALS, Paul Greengrass, poverty, Somali pirates, Somalia, The Bourne Supremacy, The Bourne Ultimatum, Tom Hanks

My Oscar quest continues with the third Best Picture nominee: Captain Phillips. How did this stack up against American Hustle and 12 Years a Slave? How Hanksian does Mr. Hanks get? Do we get the best Supporting Actor performance of the year here? Read on for my 8 cents.

At what point does instinct kick in and override one’s natural fear or paralysis in a dangerous situation? Will our natural, primal selves always jump to the forefront when our lives are in danger or is that a pump that needs to be constantly primed? What about when we’re responsible for the lives of others? At what point does our psyche separate the need to fulfill one’s duty with the inherent need to survive? And what happens to our “normal” selves if we do manage to make it past the crisis? Is there ever an easy way to return to the “same-old-same-old” after that?

Paul Greengrass’ Captain Phillips (2013) has several things on its plate but this notion of personal sacrifice in the face of turmoil is certainly one of them. Almost as vital (perhaps more so, depending on how you look at it), however, is a storytelling-related issue: what factors truly make someone a “villain” versus a “victim of circumstance”? When a “bad guy” looks in the mirror, does he see a “bad guy” looking back or is that notion only reserved for whoever is directly opposing him? The film makes a pointed and very powerful assertion: if we could truly look behind the scenes and see the various factors at play in any conflict or confrontation, it would become very difficult to assign any measure of blame. This is heady stuff, particularly in a film about Somali pirates capturing an American ship. That the film manages to place this notion in the forefront of audiences’ minds while still being a rip-snortingly tense action film gives a pretty good notion as to why Captain Phillips found itself on the year-end shortlist.

Captain Phillips is the true story of the 2009 hijacking of the Maersk Alabama, a U.S. cargo ship captained by the titular individual (played by Tom Hanks). We see a little of his family life (loving wife, grown kids) and a little of his work ethic (stern but friendly boss, detail-oriented) before he’s taken command of the Alabama and set sail. While on the open seas, the ship strays from the safer, more packed sea routes and into an area patrolled by Somali pirates. Sure enough, Phillips and his crew end up in the crosshairs of Muse (Barkhad Abdi) and his pirate crew. After a thrilling cat-and-mouse chase, the pirates board the Maersk Alabama, forcing Phillips to use all of his wits, charm and nautical knowledge to keep his crew safe and defuse the situation. Once the U.S. Navy and the Seals get involved, however, the whole enterprise becomes even more dangerous and convoluted, hurtling everyone towards a potentially explosive and violent end.

In order to get a sense of the overall feel of Captain Phillips, it helps to examine director Greengrass’ other films: he was the man behind The Bourne Supremacy (2004) and The Bourne Ultimatum (2007), as well as the 9/11 film United 93 (2006) and the Matt Damon-starring action film Green Zone (2010). In most of these films, Greengrass combines a keen sense of action and tension (much of which unfolds so quickly that it seems to be happening in real-time) with subtle (sometimes, not so much) critiques of the U.S. war/espionage complex. While Captain Phillips only touches briefly on the war aspect (the battleship that intervenes and the Seal team) and not at all on the espionage side, American policies end up being a key part of the rationale behind the actual attack. At one point, Muse tells Phillips that he and the other pirates are actually fishermen but foreign commercial fishermen have emptied their seas, leaving them with no way to earn a livelihood.

In fact, this idea that the Somali pirates are not, in effect, terrorists but rather normal human beings put in a completely untenable position, is the aspect of Captain Phillips that truly sets it apart. Imagine if Die Hard went out of its way to establish the terrorists as fundamentally decent people who need to hold their hostages in order to provide for their families. In a typical Hollywood film, this tact would naturally lead one to assume that the John McClane character would, by default, need to become the bad guy. Captain Phillips upends this notion by making the captive captain just as much of a down-to-earth guy as the desperate pirates. The pirates are hijacking the ship because a local Somali warlord will gun down their families if they don’t: Phillips is doing everything he can to keep he and his crew safe, so that they can return to their own families. If there are any real “bad guys” in the film, they’re probably the foreign fishing interests that have conspired to create this situation in the first place.

In fact, my biggest overall complaint about Captain Phillips is that the film doesn’t spend nearly enough time with the Somalis: more scenes from their village or the pirate mother-ship would have fleshed out their characters even more and given ample opportunity to contrast their lives with the American crew. As it is, the film plays as more of a fast-paced action film, bookended by mundane opening and emotional finale. There nothings inherently wrong with that approach: in many ways, Captain Phillips is the smartest action film to come out in quite some time, perhaps ever. If one were to cut out all of the non-hijacking related footage, you would be left with an extremely lean, mean, tough little film, something that’s definitely closer in feel to the Bourne films.

As such, however, the film provides me with a bit of a head-scratcher: is a film that is, essentially, an action film (even if an extremely well-made action film) really the best film of the year? Since the film seems to lean much heavier on the action versus the dramatic sequences, I certainly feel it’s fair to characterize it as such. I’ve only seen three of the nominees, thus far, but Captain Phillips certainly doesn’t seem like a better overall film than 12 Years a Slave, even if it’s undeniably more fun. Hanks, in particular, struck me as slightly off. At first, I was rather annoyed with his performance: it seemed too “Hanksian,” at the beginning, an impression not helped by the tediously expository dialogue. Note to screenwriters: as a rule, married couples don’t usually take the time to remind each other that they have children, especially grown children, unless they’re really trying to let the audience know. In fact, the script often felt like it got in the way of Captain Phillips truly taking off: much of the non-action scenes have the same overly expository feel of the opening, as if the filmmakers wanted to make sure that the audience didn’t miss any pertinent information. It’s an obvious, if slightly irritating trick, and it makes the film’s Best Adapted Screenplay nomination feel a bit odd.

Much has also been made of the fact that golden boy Tom Hanks was snubbed on a Best Actor nod, despite being such a massive presence in the film. To be honest, this made a lot of sense to me: Hanks’ performance gets steadily better and more emotional as the film progresses, culminating in a pretty powerful moment at the end, but there’s a lot of dead air there, too. In particular, much of his performance in the film’s first third seems forced and…well…”Hanksian.” Things get radically better once he ends up on the lifeboat with the four pirates but it’s (occasionally) a slog to get there.

What makes complete sense, however, is newcomer Barkhad Abdi, as Muse the defacto pirate captain. Abdi is a revelation, an actor so natural and subtle, yet so gifted at communicating small emotions with just his eyes and face, that he (essentially) wipes the floor with everyone else, including Hanks. Abdi’s performance never seemed like acting and he had a number of truly heartbreaking moments. I’ve only seen three of the five nominated Best Supporting Actor performances but Abdi’s is easily the best, completely outshining Fassbinder in 12 Years and edging out Cooper’s perm in American Hustle by virtue of its searing honesty.

Ultimately, I wanted more of Abdi’s Muse. The film may be about the things that happened to Captain Phillips but it strains to be so much more. With more of an emphasis on the pirates’ home-life (this is the rare film that could have been at least 30-45 minutes longer than it actually was), Captain Phillips may have been a complete classic. As it stands, however, Greengrass and company have managed to craft one absolutely thrilling action film with just enough of a socially conscious heart to stand out from the pack. Is it the best film of the year? Probably not. Is it good enough to be considered? Absolutely.