4/12/15 (Part One): The Good Time Boys

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action films, action-comedies, Australian films, BMX Bandits, Brian Trenchard-Smith, Brigitte Jean Allen, car chases, Chad Law, Christopher Morris, Christopher Sommers, cinema, Damien Garvey, Dead End Drive-In, Drive Hard, driving films, Evan Law, film reviews, films, get-away driver, heist, hostage situation, hot pursuit, husband-wife relationship, Jason Wilder, John Cusack, mobsters, Movies, multiple writers, odd couple, road movie, set in Australia, stolen money, Thomas Jane, Tony O'Loughlan, unlikely allies, unlikely hero, writer-director, Yesse Spence, Zoe Ventoura

Among old and reliable action movie tropes, there are few that are older and more reliable than mismatched “odd couple” duos. From 48 Hrs. (1982) to Midnight Run (1988)…from Turner & Hooch (1989) to Tango & Cash (1989)…from Rush Hour (1998) to the Lethal Weapon franchise, you know the drill: put a straight-laced, by-the-book square with a lone-wolf, loose-cannon hothead and let the sparks fly! When the formula works, it’s an almost bullet-proof set-up: there’s a good reason why films like Lethal Weapon and Die Hard (1988) are still influencing modern action films almost 30 years after they left the multiplexes.

The success of said formula, however, winds up being pretty dependent on a very important part of the equation: if the mismatched partners don’t gel, if their chemistry lies somewhere between “uncomfortably awkward” and “dead on arrival,” well…let’s just say that your odds of getting a decent film aren’t great. In the case of classic “Ozsploitation” filmmaker Brian Trenchard-Smith’s newest film, Drive Hard (2014), we get enough of the elements in their proper places to insure a fun, fast and fairly breezy good time: would we expect anything less from the twisted genius behind Dead End Drive-In (1986)?

The “square” in this particular equation is Peter Roberts (Thomas Jane, sporting a ridiculously fluffy hair-do that would make a ’70s-era catalog model jealous), a former American race car driver who now toils in obscurity as an Australian driving instructor. He’s got a wife and young daughter, dreams of opening his own racing school and just enough spare cash to insure that he’ll probably be teaching yahoos what a stick-shift is for the next 90 years. Peter’s the kind of guy who would give you the shirt off his back and spend the rest of the day complaining about being cold.

The “wild one” in this equation is Simon Keller (John Cusack), another American ex-pat. Simon (who pronounces his name in a way that sounded suspiciously like “Killer” to me) hires Peter to teach him to drive, even though he seems to be surprisingly adept around said vehicle for a complete novice. Keller’s a sophisticated smartass with a propensity for droll observations and a rather unsettling interest in Peter’s former occupation.

As luck would have it, Keller doesn’t want a driving instructor: he wants a get-away driver. Things get more complicated when Keller reveals that they’ve just ripped off Mario Rossi (Christopher Morris), a hot-headed mob boss who previously stiffed Simon on a job: this is payback and poor Peter is just the schmuck who’s found himself stuck in the middle. Except, of course, that good ol’ Peter eventually starts to, you know…kinda dig all this action. After all, he gets to race again: what’s that thing they say about the gift horse? He also gets out of the house at a time when things are particularly rough between him and his wife, Tessa (Yesse Spence), thereby avoiding any and all difficult conversations about sticky subjects like “responsibility” and the “future.”

While the fugitives burn rubber, their own relationship begins to thaw, allowing for the kind of uneasy détente that’s necessary for this sort of film: Keller is revealed to be more than just a criminal mastermind, while Peter gets to finally assert himself and start to loosen up. It’s not all Summer vacation in the Hamptons, however, as our intrepid travelers are pursued by a pair of extremely earnest Special Agents (Zoe Ventoura and Jason Wilder), along with Rossi and Chief Inspector Smith (Damien Garvey), a lawman so used to sitting in the mobster’s pocket that he may as well be a young kangaroo. As the forces continue to mass and the odds get slimmer, Peter and Simon will learn one important thing: if you want to have a fighting chance, you have to drive…and you better drive hard.

Like the vast majority of Trenchard-Smith’s extensive output, Drive Hard is massively entertaining: a silly, lightning-paced buddy film, Drive Hard never takes itself seriously, although it also manages to avoid (albeit just barely) slipping into full-blown parody territory. The Australian action auteur is a deft hand with this type of material, however, melding purely goofy comedy beats with genuinely thrilling action and racing sequences. While the film is the furthest thing from a “dark” crime saga, the stakes feel real enough to plant it squarely in the area code of films like Snatch (2000) and In Bruges (2008).

Key to the film’s success, of course, is that aforementioned chemistry between our odd couple, Peter and Simon.  The two leads play off each other with a playful sense of camaraderie that makes the film an easy, breezy experience from first to last. While Jane does an admirable job playing against type as the nerdy, clueless and slightly whiny Peter, Cusack handily steals the show as the riveting, obnoxious and thoroughly badass Simon Keller. Keller is the kind of antihero that practically demands his own franchise (I was constantly put in mind of Tim Dorsey’s amazing creation, Serge Storms) and it’s endlessly fun watching him work his machinations against the mob, corrupt cops, a biker gang and pretty much anyone who has the misfortune of crossing his path. Of late, Cusack seems to be gravitating towards these kind of “antihero” roles (see his similarly stellar turn as the villain in the thoroughly spectacular Grand Piano (2014) for another good example) and they really do fit him like a glove: he appears to be morphing into James Spader before our very eyes and I, for one, applaud this wholeheartedly.

While the supporting cast does fine work, the only one who really stands out is Zoe Ventoura’s ridiculously driven Agent Walker: there’s an intensity to her performance that ends up being much more magnetic than Christopher Morris’ mob boss, despite the constant fever pitch of his performance. Ventoura’s Agent Walker is also the only female character who gets much to do, with Francesca Bianchi’s Stacy being stuck in perpetual man-eater mode and Yesse Spence’s Tessa spending the majority of the film stuck somewhere in the background off-camera. For better or worse, this is the kind of action film that seems to strictly revolve around the male characters and their various relationships with one another. Call it a “bromance” if you like, but there’s certainly no shortage of testosterone to go around, here.

Despite being less than taken with Drive Hard’s look (the film is constantly blown-out and, to be honest, rather ugly), it’s hard to find fault with any of its key components. The driving scenes are thrilling and kinetic, while the various fights are well-staged and find a decent balance between chaos and order. The underlying sense of dark humor also works in the film’s favor, leading to suitably outrageous gags like the shop clerk accidentally blowing his own head off or Peter’s ludicrous brawl with an elderly lady that’s one slim pratfall away from a Happy Gilmore (1996) outtake. Holding everything together is that all-important central odd couple relationship between Jane and Cusack, the kind of partnership that actually makes sequels seem like good ideas.

Ultimately, Drive Hard is just what it should be: a goofy, fun, silly and effortless throwback to the days when everything blew up, any argument could be solved with a fistfight and a cutting quip could be just as deadly as a cutting blade. While Trenchard-Smith’s latest isn’t quite the modest masterpiece that Dead End Drive-In was (tonally, it’s just a little too all-over-the-map), there’s more than enough good stuff here to keep fans of ’80s and ’90s action films happy. Drive Hard tries hard and, at the end of the day, that’s a lot more than most.

 

6/23/14: Ol’ Hitch Would Be Proud

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Alex Winter, Alfred Hitchcock, Allen Leech, Best of 2013, cinema, classical music, Damien Chazelle, Dee Wallace, Don McManus, Elijah Wood, Eugenio Mira, favorite films, Film, film festival favorite, film reviews, Grand Piano, Hitchcock films, John Cusack, Kerry Bishe, Movies, mystery, pianist, piano, sniper, split-screen, suspense, Tamsin Egerton, thriller, Timecrimes, Tom Selznick

Whenever I think about suspense films, there’s always one name that’s on the tip of my brain: Alfred Hitchcock. It should go without saying that Hitchcock was one of the greatest directors to ever walk this planet, a master craftsman who was probably only equalled by fellow artisans like Stanley Kubrick, Akira Kurosawa and Ingmar Bergman. For my money, however, ol’ Hitch is also the greatest director of suspense films, hands down. Hitchcock films are perfectly wound, intricate clockwork puzzles, designed for maximum audience reaction and as close to perfect examples of sustained/released tension as I think it’s possible to create. His method of operation is best described by his famous example of the difference between “surprise” and suspense.” To paraphrase: if two people are sitting at a cafe table and suddenly blow up, that’s surprise…if the audience sees that there’s a bomb underneath the table but the characters don’t, however, that’s suspense. In one instance, you get the momentary shock of surprise, which is a fleeting rush. On the other hand, however, you can continue to build tension, dragging out the scene until the audience is practically screaming at the screen: this is a longer process and requires more patience but the payoff, ultimately, is that much greater. Hitchcock was practically peerless in letting audiences stew in their own juices.

Hitchcock, obviously, was a pretty one-of-a-kind filmmaker, a true auteur. Despite this indisputable fact, however, why would I begin a review of Eugenio Mira’s extraordinary new film, Grand Piano (2013), with a bunch of praise for an unrelated filmmaker who died when Mira was all of three years old? Regardless of how extraordinary I find Hitchcock to be, how much could he actually have to do with Mira’s film? Let’s put it this way: Hitchcock may not have had anything to do with Grand Piano but his fingerprints, style and sense of humor are all over the film. In many ways, Grand Piano is one of the very best films that ol’ Hitch never made, a meticulously crafted, unbelievably tense and remarkably plotted work of art that showcases a pair of actors at the top of their craft and gives audiences one completely unforgettable thrill ride. I’d heard good things about the film before going in but this was one situation where the hype should have been a whole lot louder.

Master pianist Tom Selznick (Elijah Wood) has come out of a five-year retirement in order to perform for a packed audience that includes his adoring, extremely famous actress spouse, Emma (Kerry Bishe). Tom quit the business after screwing up a complicated piece, humiliated by his public miscue. He’s here tonight, however, and playing his dead mentor’s priceless grand piano: the smell of redemption is in the air and Tom is feeling pretty great. As he turns the page on his sheet music, however, he comes across an ominous declaration, written in red across the page: “Play one wrong note and you die.” Subsequent notes lead him to understand that a mysterious sniper has both Tom and his wife in his sights and won’t hesitate to shoot them if Tom makes any mistakes. After being directed to grab an earpiece from his dressing room, Tom is finally in vocal contact with the mysterious man (John Cusack). The rules are simple: make one mistake, say one thing, try to attract attention in any way at all or disobey a single order…and Tom’s a dead man. But the show must go on: Tom’s audience may be captivated but he’s a captive and will do whatever it takes to get out.

Grand Piano takes an extremely simple, if ludicrous, premise (concert pianist held captive by sniper during live performance) and manages to turn it into one of the thorniest, wildest, most wonderful and flat-out impressive films I’ve ever seen. No joke: the film is an instant classic and, were it not for the prevalence and necessity of modern technology like cell phones, would seem almost timeless. Chalk that up to a few different things. On one hand, you have an outstanding lead duo with Elijah Wood and John Cusack: the two have more chemistry as adversaries than most romantic pairings I’ve seen lately. Wood has been on a bit of a career renaissance of late, with his performance in Franck Khalfoun’s outstanding Maniac (2012) being a particular highlight. His performance as Tom is just as good, although much more restrained (obviously). If anything, he definitely brought to mind the hassled heroism of someone like James Stewart, driving home that whole Hitchcock connection. Cusack has also been shying away from the roles that made him a mega-star in the ’80s and ’90s, becoming a bit of a brooding hero/anti-hero in film’s as diverse as Lee Daniels The Paperboy (2012), The Factory (2012), The Numbers Station (2013), Adult World (2013), The Frozen Ground (2013) and The Bag Man (2014). His performance as Clem is one of his very best “bad guy” roles, easily the equal of his work as the villainous Robert Hansen in The Frozen Ground. Cusack has the doubly-difficult task of being able to use only his voice for the vast majority of the film: it’s to his great credit that every slimy aspect of Clem comes through the earpiece loud and clear, without the benefits of body language or facial expression. Quite simply, Wood and Cusack are extraordinary in the film, each one so perfectly cast that it, again, reminds one of Hitchcock’s meticulous way with his actors.

Despite the film’s remarkably small, intimate set-up, it’s far from a two-man show. More than able support comes in the form of Kerry Bishe, whose Emma manages to seem fully actualized with a rather minimal amount of screentime. Also impressive are Tamsin Egerton, as Emma’s brash sister Ashley, and Alan Leech, as Ashley’s boyfriend Wayne. The duo add quite a bit of genuine humor to the film, as well as some surprising pathos, later on. They aren’t big roles, by any stretch of the term, but they are exceptionally important roles: there are no throwaway pieces in Mira’s intricate jigsaw puzzle of a film. Every actor, just like every camera angle and line of dialogue, is perfectly calibrated to offer maximum impact. One of the neatest touches? Bill and Ted’s Alex Winters as the assistant. As always, it makes me wish he acted more often, since it’s a perfectly nuanced performance. Even a seemingly disposable role like the janitor who shakes his head disapprovingly at Tom is given considerable class when played by a veteran character actor like Jim Arnold: it’s a great touch that really speaks to a rock-solid cast.

Not only is Grand Piano exquisitely cast, however, but it’s immaculately crafted, possessing some truly gorgeous cinematography and an excellent sound design that seems tailor-made for amps that go to 11. I’ve driven home the Hitchcock references time and time again but I’ll hammer it one more time: quite simply, Grand Piano looks like one of Hitchcock’s classic films. There’s a richness of image and color, a vibrancy and life that instantly recalls the Golden Age of Hollywood. As enamored as I was with the story, it would have been impossible to tear my eyes from the screen, regardless, thanks to how great everything looked. There’s one moment in the film where a shot organically becomes a split screen: I’m not quite sure how it’s done but I do know that it’s audacious, eye-catching and completely badass. It’s the kind of moment that makes films so much fun and Grand Piano is full of them.

Truth be told, Grand Piano really knocked my socks off. By the time the film revs up to full speed, it’s absolutely unstoppable, one fist-raising moment after another. It’s no hyperbole to say that I was on the edge of my seat the whole time because I literally was: it would have been impossible for me to sit back if I tried. Like the best of Hitchcock’s films, Grand Piano is imminently watchable, a 90 minute thrill-ride that feels like 45. Not only is Grand Piano tense and thrilling, however, but it’s also whip-smart: this is not the typical “dumb people do dumb things to advance the plot” film. This is much closer to an intricately plotted heist film, where every little detail and tidbit is part of the scheme, every throw-away factoid is actually a clue to the bigger picture. Regardless of how initially ridiculous any one set-piece in Grand Piano is (and there are some real corkers, let me tell ya), the movie handles everything with such a consistent sense of intelligence and rationality that I was inclined to believe all of it: why not?

I’ve tried to be as purposefully vague with plot details as possible so as to preserve as many of the film’s genuine surprises as I can: this is a film that will surprise you, time and again, so the less known, the better. The only things that you really need to know are that Grand Piano is an astounding film, Eugenio Mira is absolutely a director to keep an eye on and that you’re pretty much guaranteed to have a blast while watching. I don’t pretend to speak for Alfred Hitchcock in any way, shape or form but I’m pretty sure that Hitch would give this his seal of approval. At the very least, he’d take one look at Eugenio Mira and say, “Now there’s a man who understands the difference between surprise and suspense.”

5/17/14: It’s Always the Quiet Guys

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Alaska, based on a true story, Bob Hansen, Cindy Paulson, cinema, Curtis "50 Cent" Jackson, Dean Norris, directorial debut, feature-film debut, film reviews, films, hunting humans, Jack Halcombe, John Cusack, Movies, murdered prostitutes, Nicholas Cage, period-piece, police procedural, Scott Walker, serial killer, set in the 1980's, state troopers, Summer of Sam, The Frozen Ground, torture, Vanessa Hudgens, writer-director, Zodiac

Although I have a tendency to rail on (and on…and on…) about how much I dislike unoriginal films, there’s certainly something to be said for a no-frills, back-to-basics movie that just wants to tell a story. In particular, I tend to have a weakness for scrappy little police procedurals, especially ones that feature a determined cop squaring off against a cagey, ruthless serial killer. These films are often nothing extraordinary but, when done well, can be just as tense and illuminating as something for original or mind-bending. In recent times, Spike Lee’s Summer of Sam (1999) and David Fincher’s Zodiac (2007) both fit the bill pretty well: while neither one blew me away, they were both solid, respectable and consistently watchable films that were full of incredibly solid performances. The newest member of this particular club would have to be first-time writer-director Scott Walker’s The Frozen Ground (2013), based on a true story about a serial killer who stalked the Alaskan wilds in the ’80s. Although there’s nothing spectacular here, The Frozen Ground ends up being a solid, well-acted and, occasionally, quite powerful little film.

Beginning with a quote from Matthew 10:16 (“Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves”) and a stunning aerial view of the dark, slightly sinister Alaskan wilderness, The Frozen Ground wastes no time in throwing us into the story. It’s 1983 and the police have just raided an apartment where they’ve found a bloody young lady (Vanessa Hudgens) handcuffed in a bathroom. She tells the police that her abductor planned to put her in a plane and take her to his remote cabin. They don’t buy her story, however, which leads us to the “chase” proper. Jack Halcombe (Nicholas Cage) is an Alaskan State Trooper who’s determined to track down the madman responsible for killing prostitutes and dumping them in the middle of nowhere. Halcombe suspects Bob Hansen (John Cusack), a well-liked local businessman who seems the very picture of small-town celebrity: whenever he walks into a place, it’s like Norm walking into Cheers. No one, of course, is willing to admit that there might be a dark side to this beaming pillar of the local business community.

But they should, of course, because Bob is batshit crazy. This isn’t much of a secret, to be honest: the film never makes any bones about Hansen being the baddie and Halcombe is always suspicious of him. Like real-life cases, however, figuring it out is only part of the puzzle: the bigger issue is proving it. To that end, Halcombe will need to track down Cindy Paulson (Vanessa Hudgens), the only known survivor of the killer. Problem is, Cindy is a notorious drug abuser and still hooks, making her a little difficult to track down. With the help of Sgt. Lyle Haugsven (Breaking Bad’s Dean Norris), Halcombe gets to tracking down Cindy. Time is running out, however, because Bob has decided that it’s time to tie up loose ends and Cindy is the first name on the list.

While there’s nothing extraordinary or surprising about The Frozen Ground, there’s also nothing particularly wrong with it, either. The story hits all of the familiar beats that you’d expect in something like this, the cinematography is suitably dark and foreboding (when it needs to be) and the acting, for the most part, is pretty high-caliber. In particular, Nicholas Cage does a phenomenal job as the determined State Trooper, reigning in all of his over-the-top tendencies to create a character that feels completely and wholly real. I really like Cage: he seems like a really cool, self-aware dude and somebody who’d probably be a blast to joyride with. As an actor, however, I find him to be in the same basic boat as Gary Busey: for the most part, he just seems to play variations of himself in everything. While this may work in purposefully OTT productions like the awful Ghost Rider movies or that risible remake of The Wicker Man (2006), it’s much more problematic in films that require more low-key, realistic performances. Cage’s turn in The Frozen Ground, for the most part, is completely restrained and, as a result, is probably my favorite performance of his since Matchstick Men (2003). The best compliment I can pay him, regarding this performance, is that he never once took me out of the film: at no point did I go from watching “Jack Halcombe” to “Nic Cage,” unlike pretty much anything from the last 10-15 years. He’s completely excellent here and the film is worth a watch if for nothing else than an opportunity to see Cage under-act, for a change.

Cusack, on the other hand, has always been a more problematic actor for me. I really enjoyed him, up to a point, but it seems like he’s been spinning his wheels for years, playing variations on the exact same character in everything he does. While he’s not quite that anonymous in The Frozen Ground, he’s also not particularly note-worthy, save for one exceptionally unpleasant scene where he mentally tortures one of his victims. If any, Cusack seems a little checked out here, although there’s nothing overtly wrong with the performance: it just seems a bit perfunctory. Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson appears as Cindy’s pimp and he’s not bad, although it took me a while to recognize him under one of the silliest long-hair wigs I’ve ever seen. Dean Norris is predictably solid as Halcombe’s sort-of partner but I wish he had more screen time: Norris is one of those actors who’s always doing interesting things with his face and body language yet seems doomed to play character roles for the rest of his life. I really hope this isn’t the case: it would be nice to see him carry a film, one day, rather than providing able backup.

The one sore point in the film, if there could really be said to be one, would definitely have to be Hudgens’ performance. I will admit that I’m not a fan of her’s in the slightest but I was still willing to give her the benefit of the doubt: after all, who could’da thunk that David Bowie would turn out to be such a great actor? Alas, Hudgens is no Bowie (this would make a great T-shirt, by the way) and her performance as Cindy indicates that she’s not much of a thespian, either. All weird tics, awkward line delivery and uncontrolled emotion, Hudgens didn’t work for me at all. This, of course, is a little worrisome in a film where her character is supposed to serve as the emotional core. As such, the film seems to exist around her but she’s never fully integrated into anything. It’s the equivalent of grabbing an audience member to sub for a sick Broadway performer: the show might go on but it won’t feel quite right.

On the whole, fans of these kinds of movies will find plenty to appreciate in The Frozen Ground. While the story is far from original and is precipitated on one of those Matlock-esque “I shoulda killed you when I got the chance!” outbursts, it’s frequently tense, extremely well-shot and moves purposefully towards its conclusion. In a way, it’s kind of refreshing to watch a film like this that just tells a linear A-B story, without the need to muddy things up with extraneous flashbacks, flashforwards, voice-over narration or excessive emotion. If The Frozen Ground were a mid-term, it would probably get a B. If you were a particularly lenient instructor, however, I see no reason why that B couldn’t be upped to a B+. Just don’t go into this expecting Hurricane Nic: in this instance, Cage left the persona at home and just brought himself to the party.

2/14/14: A Little Quiet Dignity

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African-American history, Alan Rickman, all-star cast, Andrew Dunn, butlers, Cecil Gaines, cinema, Cuba Gooding Jr., David Oyelowo, Eugene Allen, Film, film reviews, Forest Whitaker, historical drama, James Marsden, Jane Fonda, John Cusack, Lee Daniels, Lenny Kravitz, Liev Schrieber, Movies, Oprah Winfrey, passive resistance, Precious, racial equality, Robin Williams, Terrence Howard, the Black Panthers, The Butler, the Civil Rights Movement, the White House, U.S. presidents

Sometimes, a film can do everything right, yet not quite move me in the way that (I’m assuming) it meant to. I’m not necessarily thinking about tragic romances or tear-jerkers when I say this, since those types of film tend to be manipulative by their very nature (a manipulation which I’ve managed to avoid for most of my life with the exception of animal stories, which tend to reduce me to a blubbering man-baby in no-time flat). Rather, I’m thinking about certain particularly earnest dramas, dramatic films which tend to have important ideas and themes yet are diluted to the point of banality due to their pressing need to appeal to as wide an audience as possible.

These are not bad films, necessarily, but they are safe films and tend to have as much real resonance and staying power as similarly sincere “made-for-TV” films: the “After-School Special” syndrome, as it were. Although Lee Daniels’ historical drama The Butler is extremely well-made and filled with some very solid performances, the film has an unfortunate tendency to carve out a middle-of-the-road path that makes it feel technically adept, yet unfortunately disposable. In a year where Steve McQueen released the painful open-wound that was 12 Years a Slave, Daniels’ The Butler doesn’t seem quite as weighty.

Loosely-based on the life of Eugene Allen, who served as White House butler over the course of 34 years and eight different presidential administrations, The Butler features Forrest Whitaker as the fictionalized Cecil Gaines. Together with his wife, Gloria (Oprah Winfrey) and sons Louis (David Oyelowo) and Charlie (Elijah Kelley), Cecil watches the U.S. go through many social changes and struggles, from the Civil Rights movement to the Vietnam War, from the rise of the Black Panthers to the assassination of JFK. Through it all, Cecil tries to hold on to the same quiet sense of dignity that he’s maintained since he first watched his father get murdered on a sharecropper’s farm, even as his eldest son, Louis, becomes more and more involved in “radical” politics. Father and son eventually wind up at odds with each other, as one continues to throw himself into a life of service, while the other comes to realize the importance of fighting for your own human rights.

One of the biggest problems with The Butler, as strange as it may seem, is that the film is really too short to fully develop all of its ideas and themes. Even though Daniels’ film clocks in at a little over two hours, it has an awful lot of history and time to wade through: 34+ years, to be exact. As such, much of the film takes on the feel of a “Cliff-Notes” version of the events. I’m not asking that we spend an inordinate amount of time on any particular era: I fully understand that this was not meant to be an exhaustive history of the United States, only a fictionalized account of one man’s life. Nonetheless, the film has a tendency to speed through decades (and eras) that can give short-shrift to not only characters and story elements but to actual themes, as well.

This problem becomes exacerbated by the numerous sub-plots that begin to crop up everywhere: Gloria’s affair with Howard (Terrence Howard); Charlie’s military service; Louis’ increasing radicalization. In and of themselves, any of these subplots would be enough to give added meat to the core story of Cecil and the White House. Taken altogether, however, the effect becomes not only rather overwhelming but of decidedly questionable intent: what, exactly, is the point of Gloria’s affair with Howard? Other than an offhand mention once or twice, the situation seems to have no bearing on the story whatsoever. It felt like a rather misguided attempt to add depth to Winfrey’s character, as well as providing more of a role for Howard. In reality, however, it just ends up bloating the story unnecessarily and led me to focus more energy/attention on Howard’s character than was needed. It almost seemed as if the subplot existed simply to pad out Terrence Howard’s role.

I only mention this notion of “padding” since there are an awful lot of characters moving in, out and around the perimeter of the story and many of them seem to exist only to offer a little screen-time to some very familiar faces. We get the various presidents that Gaines works for, of course, played by a virtual cornucopia of actors:  Robin Williams as Eisenhower; James Marsden as Kennedy; Liev Schreiber as LBJ; John Cusack as Richard Nixon and Alan Rickman as Ronald Reagan. Of these, only Schreiber, Cusack and Rickman get much time, with Williams putting in more of a glorified cameo and Marsden not making much impression as Kennedy at all. Schreiber is quite magnificent as Johnson, bringing a real sense of grit and a bit of a lunatic edge to the 36th President: the bit where he barks orders while seated on the toilet is both inspired and a little scary. Cusack is admirably sleazy as Nixon and inhabits the role quite nicely: I’ve really come to appreciate his acting over the last several years, even if his taste in roles (The Butler notwithstanding) has been a bit questionable of late. Rickman’s portrayal of Reagan is a bit odd, to be honest: at first, I thought this was Ciaran Hinds reprising his role from Political Animals. It was only during the credits that I realized I’d been watching Alan Rickman all along. Recognizable or not, Rickman’s performance also reminded me the least of the various represented presidents, with Marsden’s generic JFK coming in a close second.

Along with these famous presidential portrayers, we also get Mariah Carey as Cecil’s young mother; Terrence Howard as Cecil’s friend/Gloria’s lover; Vanessa Redgrave as the aged matriarch of a plantation; Clarence Williams III (aka Linc from the Mod Squad) as Cecil’s mentor; Cuba Gooding, Jr. as Carter, a White House butler who becomes like a brother to Cecil; Lenny Kravitz as another White House Butler; Minka Kelly as Jackie Kennedy and Jane Fonda as Nancy Reagan. Many of these performances, such as Carey and Redgrave, amount to little more than brief cameos, sometimes giving the proceedings the feel of one of those epic, star-studded Herman Wouk mini-series’ from a bygone era of television.

Despite the occasional celebrity overkill, there are plenty of good performances filling The Butler. Whitaker is a consistently gentle and dignified presence, the very definition of perseverance. Oprah isn’t amazing in her role as Gloria but she gets steadily better as the film progresses and she has some genuinely powerful moments in the film’s back half. Cuba Gooding Jr. is charmingly rakish as Carter, managing to make the character both filthy and boyishly innocent: it’s the kind of role that makes me wish Cuba did these kind of roles more often. Kelly and Fonda give two very different types of performances but both actresses manage to nail their respective First Ladies to a tee. The very idea of Jane Fonda playing the uber-conservative Reagan is good for a laugh but Fonda really sinks her teeth into the role, portraying Nancy as quick, smart and strangely fashionable, in her own way. Kelly, by contrast, gets a stunning scene where she sits wailing in the Oval Office, covered in her dead husband’s blood. It would be a powerful scene in any film but becomes particularly resonant when paralleled with the Gaines’ own loss later on.

From a film-making perspective, The Butler has a nice, gritty look, partly thanks to cinematographer Andrew Dunn (who also shot Daniels’ Precious). This results in some nice period pieces, a look which is deflated a bit by the film’s over-reliance on its obvious and, to be honest, schmaltzy score. The script is good, too, although it featured far too many disparate threads and subplots for my liking. I was also a bit curious as to why Daniels’ chose to gloss over Gerald Ford and Jimmy Carter almost completely: whereas Presidents 34-37 and 40 get their own scenes and representations, Presidents 38-39 are only seen via stock footage. I’m pretty sure that this is due to the film’s tendency to try and cram too much info into too small a space but I’m only guessing. Regardless of the reason, I thought it a little odd and certainly part of “Cliff-Notes” issue I had with the film, as a whole.

In truth, I liked The Butler enough to want more but found myself consistently frustrated by the film’s tendency to skim the surface of so many issues. I was also nagged by the feeling that the film seemed to lose its interest in Cecil halfway through, choosing to switch the focus to Louis. In some ways, I think this has to do with the vast difference in their philosophies: Louis’ immersion in the Civil Rights Movement makes for a much more kinetic film experience than Cecil’s stoic acceptance of his circumstances. This still has the effect of making Cecil the second-banana in his own story, however, which seems like just one more slight to heap on the guy.

Ultimately, The Butler stands as a good film that strives to be much more: it strives to be an enduring classic. While there’s much to laud here, the film just doesn’t do much new with its subject matter, even if it does do it well. In a year that was filmed with absolute masterpieces, The Butler stands proudly but doesn’t stand out quite as much as it might have hoped. Ironically enough, this seems to be strangely fitting for a film about a man who proudly (and quietly) went about his job for 34 years.