3/18/15: The Heart, Wrung Dry, Is a Stone

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Aimee Mullins, alcohol abuse, alcoholism, Alex McGregor, black market, Christy Pankhurst, cinema, David Butler, David Clatworthy, drama, drought, dysfunctional family, dystopian future, Elle Fanning, Ernest Holm, family in crisis, farmers, father-daughter relationships, father-son relationships, film reviews, films, Flem Lever, Giles Nuttgens, Jake Paltrow, Kodi Smit-McPhee, Liah O'Prey, Michael Shannon, Movies, neo-Westerns, Nicholas Hoult, Robert Hobbs, robots, sci-fi, single father, The Grapes of Wrath, There Will Be Blood, tragedy, voice-over narration, water rights, water wars, Westerns, writer-director, Young Ones

Pitched somewhere in the middle of the triangle formed by Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath, Anderson’s There Will Be Blood (2007) and Stanley’s Hardware (1990), writer-director Jake Paltrow’s Young Ones (2014) is a powerfully acted neo-Western that blends intense character drama with dystopic sci-fi. If the whole thing is somewhat deflated by a rather meandering ending, it does nothing to take away from the journey, which is packed with memorable characters, some rather ingenious plot developments and genuine emotional power.

We’re dumped into a world of the future, although of 20 years or 100, we’re never really told. Stylistically, it’s pure Western, as the land has been in the grip of a devastating drought for long enough to turn everything into parched desert…everything, that is, except for the lush, green areas that are served by the “state” waterworks: the “wet areas,” as they’re called. In these areas, things function much as we might expect, albeit with the extra oomph provided by futuristic robotics and technology. In the “dry” areas, however, it’s a hard-scrabble existence, punctuated by harsh living conditions, sudden death and constant water wars: the untamed West, if you will.

Our lowly protagonist, Ernest Holm (Michael Shannon) is one of the farmers who’s stuck it out, along with his son, Jerome (Kodi Smit-McPhee) and daughter, Mary (Elle Fanning). Mother Katherine (Aimee Mullins) is living in a care facility after suffering a crippling injury of some sort, rendering Ernest a single father, of sorts. He’s a former alcoholic who makes ends meet by delivering supplies to the very same corrupt waterworks employees who continually resist running much-needed waterlines through Ernest’s sun-baked land: talk about your nasty Catch-22s! After his only well goes dry, poor Ernest is reduced to buying his water from gas station-style pumps and praying for much-needed, long-absent rain.

It wouldn’t be a Shakespearian tale without some Shakespearian intrigue, however, and we get that in bulk with Mary’s boyfriend, the elegantly sleazy Flem Lever (Nicholas Hoult). Flem is a smooth talker with a new con for every day of the week and a bone to pick with Ernest, thanks to a perceived slight involving the land that Flem’s father used to own.  As Flem exerts more influence over the increasingly rebellious Mary, he butts heads with Ernest in a million different ways. Through it all, Jerome, our constant narrator, observes it all with his slightly detached gaze: ever faithful to his father, yet caught in Flem’s thrall, nonetheless.

Trouble strikes when the Holm family mule heads to mule heaven and Ernest is forced to buy a robotic replacement (the robot auction is a real thing of beauty). This kicks off a series of unfortunate events that culminates with Flem stealing the “mule,” Ernest tracking him down and…well…”something” happening in the desolate wasteland, far away from prying eyes. What it is, exactly, we won’t know for some time but the tragedy results in Flem becoming the de facto head of the family, much to Jerome’s consternation. When the suspicious son gets the full details on what happened in the desert, however, thanks to the robot’s previously undisclosed video recording function…well, let’s just say that there’ll be hell to pay and leave it at that, eh?

Despite some occasional familiarities with other films (There Will Be Blood was never far from my mind, at any time), Young Ones is a strikingly fresh, thoroughly intriguing film. The script is quite clever and unfolds is a completely organic manner, with some surprising (yet always logical) twists. The blending of dystopic sci-fi and Westerns is seamless and quite magical, if I do say so, creating a believably immersive world, one that’s built up by a million little details and subtle touches. It’s the best kind of world-building, one that’s accomplished by layers rather than a sledge-hammer.

Young Ones is a very dialogue-heavy film, without a doubt, but Paltrow’s script and cast are more than up for the challenge. In most cases, anything this “talky” might become tedious but some of the film’s greatest pleasures come from the frank, in-depth conversations that the characters, particularly Ernest and Flem, have with other. There’s a wry lyricism to Paltrow’s lines that makes everything simultaneously grim, yet rich: it’s a quality that I associate with Cormac McCarthy and, while Paltrow isn’t quite there yet, I can easily see him getting there in the future.

Without a doubt, one of the shining stars in Young One’s crown is its phenomenal cast. Most of the time, it’s an easy best that Michael Shannon will be the best thing in whatever he’s in: there’s an honesty to him that makes it all but impossible to tear your eyes from the screen whenever he’s there and Ernest is one of his best, most complex roles in some time. In this case, however, Shannon gets a run for his money from Smit-McPhee, Hoult and the rest of the superb cast: everyone brings their A-game, making this one of the most exquisitely acted films I’ve seen in some time. To be honest, Hoult and Smit-McPhee give two of the best performances of the year, playing two of the most radically different characters possible. Only Fanning, normally great, falls short of the mark: chalk it up to the character or the performance, but Mary is a constantly petulant, unpleasant and hysterical character, never sympathetic, even during the moment’s where the film practically demands it.

I’d also be remiss if I didn’t mention the ending, which sputters into the station after the film runs out of steam some 20 minutes before the finish line. It’s the odd deflating moment in a script that normally runs like a Swiss clock, feeling like nothing less than Paltrow ran out of things to say before he ran out of film: again, only notable due to the fact that the rest of the film moved so effortlessly.

That being said, Young Ones is still a mighty impressive film and bodes quite well for Paltrow’s future. When the film really works, there’s a sad sense of poetry that says more about the death of the idealized West than a million cowboy hats ever could. Giles Nuttgens’ cinematography is often quite beautiful (the mournful shots of the robotic mule pacing across the mesa are, quite simply, stunning) and there’s a sense of austere seriousness to the proceedings that fits it all like a glove. While there’s something inherently tragic about the Holm family and their blood-spattered legacy, the only tragic thing about Jake Paltrow (and yes, in case you’re wondering, he’s Gwyneth’s brother) is that we’ll need to wait for his next film. When you’ve got something like Young Ones on your calling card, the sky, quite frankly, is the limit.

10/17/14 (Part Two): The Scarecrow That Wasn’t

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31 Days of Halloween, abandoned plantation, Alex Turner, American Civil War, cinema, cornfields, curses, Dead Birds, extreme violence, favorite films, feature-film debut, film reviews, films, Henry Thomas, horror, horror film, horror films, horror movies, horror westerns, Isaiah Washington, Mark Boone Junior, Michael Shannon, Movies, Muse Watson, Nicki Aycox, North vs South, Patrick Fugit, racism, scarecrows, set in 1860s, Simon Barrett, slavery, Steve Yedlin, stolen gold, The Burrowers, voodoo curses

In the world of horror films, hyphenates and hybrids are king: horror-comedies, sci-fi horror, teen slasher flicks (as opposed to geriatric slasher flicks, one assumes), rom-zom-coms, found-footage films, military-based horror films…if two disparate styles/genres/things can be forcibly jammed together, the horror industry has probably already done it. Of all of these various amalgams, however, one of the most under-represented, but endlessly entertaining, variations must certainly be the horror-Western.

While horror-Westerns appeared to have a bit of a renaissance in the ’50s and ’60s (albeit one composed entirely of questionable fare like Billy the Kid vs Dracula (1966) and The Beast of Hollow Mountain (1956)), you can count the number of “modern-day” horror-Westerns on a remarkably small number of fingers. Among exceptional films like The Burrowers (2008) and Ravenous (1999), there are also odious entries like the obnoxious Wesley Snipes-starring turkey Gallowwalkers (2012) and The Quick and the Undead (2006): while a Western setting can be glorious fodder for a horror film, it can also lead to any number of tired, stupid “zombie gunslinger” clichés, lazy ideas that are easily as tedious as cheap, cash-in found-footage films or dime-a-dozen zombie flicks.

Of the modern-day horror-Westerns that “get it right,” Alex Turner’s Dead Birds (2004) is easily one of the highlights, ranking right there with the aforementioned Ravenous and The Burrowers as some of my favorite modern horror films. There’s a quiet elegance to Dead Birds that’s almost hypnotizing, a notion of stepping off the beaten path and into a world that’s just slightly askew from ours. Thanks to an excellent script by genre mainstay Simon Barrett and some truly gorgeous cinematography courtesy of frequent Rian Johnson collaborator Steve Yedlin, Dead Birds is a subtle chiller that looks great and is smarter than the average bear. The resulting film is a slow-burner that still manages to incorporate jump scares (albeit fewer than the typical modern horror film) to good effect, while offering up an ending that should give audiences something to mull over for days to come.

The film begins in Alabama, in 1863, at the tail-end of the American Civil War. A group of gunmen – William (Henry Thomas), Sam (Patrick Fugit), Joseph (Mark Boone Junior), Clyde (Michael Shannon), Todd (Isaiah Washington) and Annabelle (Nicki Aycox) – have just made off with a large shipment of gold after a brazen, bloody bank robbery. After making it out of the town, the group decides to bunker down at an old homestead, the Hollister place. When they finally make it to the place, it ends up being a sprawling, abandoned plantation, the main house decrepit and unbelievably creepy at the end of a massive cornfield. Trudging through the wall of corn, the group makes two equally unsettling discoveries: a scarecrow that’s probably a human body stuck up on a pole and a bizarre, small, hairless creature, vaguely humanoid in shape, that Sam handily kills with a bullet to the head. As foreboding moments go, it doesn’t get much more foreboding than that.

Once the group makes it to the farmhouse, the usual tendencies to fight and form sub-groups take over: Clyde and Joseph hate that they’re getting paid as much as Todd, who’s black, and scheme to keep all the gold for themselves; William and Annabelle continue the courtship that appears to have begun in a military field hospital and Sam seems to be getting more fidgety and paranoid by the minute. When the group begins to see strange apparitions throughout the house, demonic things that look like children with hollow, empty eyes, they come to the realization that they might have stepped smack-dab into quite a bit of trouble. As the group try to make sense of what’s going, they’ll gradually come to learn the full story of the plantation’s former owner and the terrible steps he went through to get back his lost love. If they’re lucky, the group will make it out with their hides, if not their minds, intact. If not, however, they’ll find themselves as just another part of the plantation’s terrible past, trapped in the cornfield until the end of time.

There’s an awful lot working in Dead Birds’ favor (great cast, good effects, fantastically creepy setting, authentic period detail) but the feather in the cap definitely ends up being Simon Barrett’s exceptionally sharp, intelligent script. Rather than traffic in tired horror movie clichés (other than the nearly ubiquitous “scary-faced” people, of course), the film comes up with a fresh, nicely realized mythology of its own, one that manages to incorporate voodoo curses, demons and no small amount of irony. In a genre where story often feels like something you trip over on your way to the next gore shot, Dead Birds is definitely a breath of fresh air.

As a horror film, Turner’s movie hits all of its marks: the violence can be sudden and intense, the atmosphere is thick with tension and the scares are genuine and frequent. While the film doesn’t really traffic in setpieces, ala something like Suspiria (1977), there are still plenty of memorable scenes, such as the moment in the final third where we get a good look at the scarecrow and some really spooky bits involving the demonic children. Unlike more “cookie-cutter” films, we get to know and like (for the most part) the characters in Dead Birds, making their inevitable fates all that much more impactful.

In particular, Henry Thomas (yeah, Elliott from E.T. (1982)) is a great square-jawed protagonist, while genre vet Michael Shannon and Sons of Anarchy’s Mark Boone Junior make a great pair as the evil-leaning Clyde and Joseph. Most importantly, the ensemble works really well together, bringing a sense of cohesion to the production that’s likewise missing in more slap-dash films. None of these characters exist as mere cannon fodder, which makes the overall film that much more meaningful.

Despite positively adoring Alex Turner’s debut feature, I ended up being massively let-down by his follow-up, the Iraq-set Red Sands (2009), a sloppy affair which was full of great ideas and ramshackle execution. Here, Turner gets everything just perfect, turning out an absolute modern classic, in the process. Here’s to hoping that Turner has another Dead Birds up his sleeve for the future: films like this don’t come along every day but you can’t fault me for being greedy and wanting a few more.

3/19/14: A Real Simple Man

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auteur theory, beached boat, boat up a tree, broken families, character dramas, cinema, coming of age, David Cronenberg, drama, Ellis, eponymous characters, Film auteurs, film reviews, films, houseboat, Jacob Lofland, Jeff Nichols, Joe Don Baker, love story, man with a secret, Matthew McConaughey, Michael Shannon, Movies, Mud, Neckbone, Paul Sparks, Ray McKinnon, Reese Witherspoon, river, riverboats, romance, Sam Shepard, Sarah Paulson, scrappy kids, small town life, teenagers, townies, Tye Sheridan, writer-director

Fun is fun, when it comes to movies. There’s nothing wrong with mindless action shoot-em-ups or faceless slashers: those are usually more fun than being night watchman in a bubble-wrap factory. Lots of adrenaline, some snappy dialogue and some rousing set pieces…that’s been a sure thing for quite some time. Likewise, mega-budget “event” pictures can be mighty entertaining, in the right doses. Throw a bakers’ dozen of the biggest actors in town into the cinematic equivalent of making your He-Man figures fight your GI Joes? Don’t bother to call: I’m already out in the lobby. That being said, there’s a lot to be said for a good old-fashioned, low-budget, character-driven drama. Sometimes, there’s nothing finer in life than getting a bunch of talented actors together and letting them do what people have been doing since the dawn of time: live. Jeff Nichols’ Mud may not be flashy but it’s a mighty fine coming-of-age film and an intriguing peek into the human condition.

Our film begins on the waterways of Arkansas, as we’re quickly introduced to our young protagonists, Ellis (Tye Sheridan) and Neckbone (Jacob Lofland). They’re a couple of precocious teen boys, best friends and the products of rather fractured homes: Ellis’ mother and father (Sarah Paulson and Ray McKinnon) are at each other’s throats, the harshness of the country and the financial uncertainty of their riverboat existence tearing the family apart, while Neckbone is being raised by his uncle Galen (Michael Shannon) and never knew his parents. One day, while exploring a nearby island, the boys come across a busted-up houseboat, inexplicably beached atop a tree. Boys being boys, they decide to poke around the abandoned boat and discover evidence that it might not be so abandoned: bread, cans of beans and a few nudie magazines. In short order, the lads are introduced to the boat’s current “resident,” a scruffy hobo who calls himself Mud (Matthew McConaughey). According to Mud, he’s waiting for his girlfriend, who he describes to the dubious boys as “long blonde hair, long legs…beautiful…nightingales tattooed on her hands.”

Ellis and Neckbone doubt Mud’s story almost absolutely, right up until the point where they notice that a mysterious young woman (Reece Witherspoon) has just showed up in town, a woman who happens to be blonde and have nightingales tattooed on her hands. She looks an awful lot like Mud’s description, leading the friends to believe that the hobo might be telling the truth, after all. As the trio get friendlier, Mud reveals more and more about his backstory, including the fact that he’s on the run from some pretty bad people. As the boys help Mud get the houseboat up and running and serve as messenger between him and Juniper, they also contact an old friend of his, Tom (Sam Shepard), a mysterious older man who seems to know an awful lot about Mud’s past. As these disparate elements come crashing together, the boys must also maintain their home lives and deal with the conflicting emotions of adolescence: in Ellis’ case, this means falling in love with a high school girl (Bonnie Sturdivant) and navigating the pitfalls of young hormones, while Neckbone must balance his own need to become an independent man with his desire to help his uncle. Everything comes to a head as malevolent forces descend on the small town, intent on making Mud atone for his past as the boys are forced into the first throes of adulthood.

Despite some latter-half action elements that move the film more in the direction of Straw Dogs (minus the rape) than a Boy’s Story, Mud is most certainly a coming-of-age drama. Although the film, ostensibly, is about Mud and his quest for love and redemption, these aspects are always balanced against the larger picture of Ellis and Neckbone growing up. In fact, the more explicitly action-oriented elements (despite being decidedly audience-amping) have an unfortunate tendency to drown out the more mature dramatic aspects that precede them. While it’s certainly rousing to watch McConaughey whup ass righteously, the finale ends up seeming a bit reductive, almost as if the romantic/dramatic elements were a sort of smoke-screen for the more standard action beats. This is doubly unfortunate since, up to that point, Mud as a slow, meditative feel that lends itself more to contemplation than to increased adrenaline.

Acting-wise, the film features an embarrassment of riches, not the least of which is another rock-solid, dependable performance from good ol’ Matthew McC. Sheridan and Lofland are outstanding as the teenage protagonists and there’s never a moment where their friendship feels anything less than genuine. While Sheridan has to do a bit more of the emotional heavy-lifting than Lofland does, owing to Ellis’ slightly more central position in the narrative, neither actor is a slouch: I predict really good things for both of these actors. On the more established, old-guard end, we have excellent turns from Sarah Paulson as Ellis’ mother Mary Lee: she really makes the terrible conflict between what she wants and what her family wants a concrete thing and her interactions with Ray McKinnon frequently have a heartbreaking sense of authenticity. Nichols’ regular Michael Shannon is typically sturdy as Neckbone’s uncle, leading me to reiterate the same thing I always say whenever he’s in a film: get this guy more roles. Joe Don Baker shows up in a small but pivotal role as the grieving father/unrepentant killer and Paul Sparks oozes real menace as his second-in-command.

Writer/director Jeff Nichols has, very quietly, begun to build up quite the impressive resume. His debut, 2007’s Shotgun Stories, was a gut-punch about the special hell that only family members can put each other through and featured a scorching lead turn from Michael Shannon. Nichols followed this up with Take Shelter (2011), another Michael Shannon-starrer, about an average, everyday, Midwest man confronting the dubious possibility that he’s either envisioning the end of the world or is going completely bonkers. Across his three full-length features, Nichols has proven especially adept at examining the ways in which small-town folks are torn asunder by extraordinary circumstances. Some are able to regroup and rebuild…others are completely and utterly washed from the face of the earth. Even though Nichols may not have many films under his belt, he’s revealed himself to be an extraordinary filmmaker with a keen, razor-sharp edge and a knack for upending the stone of Middle American life and examining the squishy bugs beneath. In many ways, Nichols is like a softer-edged, more humanistic version of modern-day Cronenberg: they both plumb the rural interstates and byways of America, looking for the reasons behind the madness. Their America might not look like a Rockwell painting but it’s home, nonetheless.