Absurd Art Reviews.

     Incendiary -   tending to inflame the senses: a person who stirs up strife, sedition, etc.; an agitator. I could just as well not write a review for George Clooney’s, ‘The Ides of March’ and leave you with this definition. If you walked into the theater armed with the expectation given by our old friend Webster, you will leave as satisfied as I did.    

     In Clooney’s latest outing as director, he has given us a massive, pot boiling political thriller. Ryan Gosling is straight up, on fire this movie season, and George Clooney is now an old standard in the go to, straight faced arrogance. However, the scene stealers were Paul Giamatti and the almighty Philip Seymour Hoffman; easily the best character actors working today. The two of them, armed with the best dialog in the script, chew the scenery off the walls. It makes any film buff giddy with excitement to watch them fly off the handle.    

     The film deals solely within the Democratic Primaries, and puts everyone waist deep in the dirtiest of politics. Clooney is candidate Mike Morris who’s campaign is armed with veteran manager Phil Zara (Hoffman), and more importantly, the youngest, most agile mind in media spin control, Stephen Meyers (Gosling). When rival campaign manager Tom Duffy (Giamatti) propositions young Steven to change teams, the proverbial shit hits the fan for Gosling and things only spiral out of control, to involve all parties, including a mysterious, sexy intern, Molly (Evan Rachel Wood).     

     The source material for the film is a 2008 play called, ‘Farragut North’ written by insider Beau Willimon, who worked on real life candidate Howard Dean’s 2004 presidential campaign. Willimon who co - wrote the screenplay with Clooney, and veteran Grant Heslov, gives scathing insight to the shady workings of real politics.    

     The highlight of the movie is a jaw tightening face off between an embroiled Gosling and defensive Clooney in a hotel kitchen; fencing over dire issues that may bring the entire campaign to a multi - career ending halt. It’s these kind of scenes, and acting that place the film above the norm, and in my opinion, launch it into best picture stratosphere. The chaotic climate could not be more timely, and the issues more relevant; in politics, everybody loses.

     The Scandinavians are certainly pumping out some cinematic gems recently. Not that they haven’t always, ‘The Seventh Seal’ is a masterpiece that will withstand any span of time. But it seems since the mid 90’s with the emergence of self proclaimed, l’enfant terrible, Lars Von Trier, that everyone who enjoys movies has kept an eye on Scandinavia. Now, Nicolas Winding Refn will be mentioned in the same breath as Bergman, and Von Trier if there’s any justice in the world. His new film, ‘Drive’ is another chapter in his expanding career of bizarrely interesting work.

     ‘Drive’ revolves around an unnamed, Hollywood stunt car driver, who also moonlights as a wheel man for robberies. He has a set of rules you must abide by or he will leave you stranded, and other than that, he doesn’t really talk. The character is played with a stoic intensity by Ryan Gosling. Things get a bit messy for our hero when he falls for his sweet, single-mom neighbor, played with authentic innocence by Carey Mulligan. This new crush drags the Driver into a pawn shop heist that spirals out of control with double cross. When the danger shifts from the Driver to his new girl, he sets out on a path of ultra violent, destruction, delivered with shaking rage to those that mean her harm.

     I don’t want to say anything else without giving too much away, but the crime lord partnership of Nino (Ron Pearlman, typical menacing badass) and Bernie (Albert Brooks in a downright scary turn) is what pulp fiction dreams are made of. Bryan (Breaking Bad) Cranston plays the Driver’s only friend, a down (and I mean down) on his luck garage mechanic named Shannon who gets equally entangled in the madness, and offers the audience the only real insight we get into the Driver’s past, which is next to nothing.

     The directing is almost a character in itself. The view of downtown L.A. at night, the POV shots from the Driver’s car, etc is all beautifully shot. As well as the use of color, silence, long shots with no cuts, just techniques perfectly used to bring the tension to an absolute boil over before the satisfying action kicks in full throttle. I can’t wait to see what Nicolas Winding Refn does next.

      Needless to say, I found very little wrong with, ‘Drive’. Did it have cheesy camp? Excessive gore? Overacting? Absolutely it did, but not without purpose. I read an interview where Gosling claimed the two set out to make “a violent John Hughes movie” and that’s exactly how it comes off. Had you crossed, ‘Pretty In Pink’ with, ‘Dirty Harry’ you’d be in the ball park. ‘Drive’ is a home run.

    Mel Gibson is an asshole. This is a fact that the man himself has made all of us painfully aware of. However, he is still one hell of an actor. In, The Beaver, the audience gets to enjoy one of the most fearless performances I’ve come across at the local Red box, probably ever.

    The movie, while inconsistent, is stylishly directed by Hollywood veteran Jodie Foster, who co – stars as Gibson’s wife in the film. The story centers on an upper middle class, fifty – something husband, and father of two, who is lost in the throws of a crippling depression. When the family can’t take it anymore and asks dad to leave, followed by two suicide attempts gone awry, Gibson’s character Walter is pulled off the edge by a beaver puppet he discovered in a liquor store dumpster. Premise sound ludicrous? That’s because it is, but only by Gibson’s performance is the film worth our time.

    My biggest complaint is with the film’s first act, which is overly tacky, and uneven. The audience is beaten over the head with heart warming good vibes, and the promise that everything will be hunky dory now that the beaver is in town. This doubled with the flat out bad acting of eldest son’s Anton Yelchin, and a subplot concerning him, his research paper writing business, and a high school crush (phoned in performance by Jennifer Lawrence) do detract, but not enough to drag the film to unwatchable depths.

    Gibson, with a little more than just insight into the role he’s playing, gives the character the dimension he needs. It’s also nice to see a story/screenplay from a first timer that delivers (for the most part), as well as being this left field and provocative. If in the future, this is the worst anyone has to sit through at the multiplex, then I’m in.

     This is 2011. This is what the sun looks like, the stars, this is the president, and this is what director Mike Mills’ film, Beginners is like. The subject matter at hand is very fragile, and dear to Mills’ heart, as it is an embellished account of his own life. Ewan McGregor (in a role that is more moving than sad) is a stand-in for Mills as a graphic designer named Oliver. Oliver is grappling with the news that his 75 year old father, Hal (spectacular Christopher Plummer) is a gay man, and terminally ill.

     This knocks Oliver back on his heels for two reasons. 1. Hal had a wife for 44 years; Oliver’s mother Georgia. 2. It sends Oliver through an introspective look at his own relationships past and present, romantic and familial. It seems through this sharing of news; Oliver can get to know his workaholic father in the way he has always longed for. Not through judgment, but understanding. Oliver sees a new openness and passion in Hal when his father takes a much younger lover named Andy as he goes through his terminal motions. Oliver awakened to this new realness, wonders why he himself has never found such a connection.

     Inevitably we are introduced to Anna, (the beautiful Mélanie Laurent) an actress from France that Oliver meets at a costume party. Their new found connection is mirrored through a patchwork of Oliver’s memories of his mother/father, father/lover, Oliver/romantic exes, life/death, and Oliver/his father’s Jack Russell terrier, named Arthur, who speaks through clever subtitles.

     While this may all sound light and cathartic, there is an underlying tone of bittersweet sadness. The movie explores all these relationships with real detail, and your characters are certainly bruised. The audience can see that director/writer Mike Mills feels a compelling responsibility for what’s on screen; this is the man’s life after all; but through his delicate style I was glad to be extended an invitation.

           Ben Gibbard is at long last, a happy man. No wonder why, he is married to one of the most beautiful and talented actresses/singers of our modern times and fronting the great and time tested Death Cab for Cutie, what is their left to be so bummed out about? Well, nothing; and happy Ben Gibbard is just as much a pleasure to listen to as his twenty – something former self. On Codes & Keys, Ben and the band keep the soul of previous efforts and add some serious texture, and a look at the brighter side of life.

           Stand out tracks run throughout, but the second half of the record really blew me away, especially the triumvirate of, “Monday Morning”, “Portable Television”, and “Underneath the Sycamore” all back to back to back. These three songs showcase Death Cab’s undeniable ability to craft the catchiest and incalculably intelligent singles in all of pop music.

          This being the first record that guitar player Chris Walla has not mixed, Alan Moulder (Loveless by My Bloody Valentine) really brought out a new dimension from the band. Heavy use of reverb, delay, and copy/pasted vocals brings freshness to the sound without alienating the listener.

          Whether or not Ben keeps his current outlook on the life he has built for himself be damned, the man can write brilliant tunes happy, sad…whatever.

       Film is art, some film makers just don’t choose to create based on that mantra; Terrance Malick does. The Tree of Life is only his fifth film in almost fifty years, and far and away, his most ambitious. It is a film made with an indicative, yet poetic driving force. It is Terrance Malick’s understanding of all things. If you have any interest in the art of film, or the direction the current is moving, see it.

       As much as it is a movie about the whole everything, it has a center plot (kind of) that seems simple enough. This plot revolves around a family in 1950’s Waco Texas. The head of the family is the one and only Brad Pitt, his beautiful and gentle wife played by Jessica Chastain, and their three sons, played by new comers Hunter McCracken (the only son shown later in the film, played by Sean Penn), Laramie Eppler, and Tye Sheridan. Brad Pitt gives the performance of his career as a broken man raising his three boys with severe, unflinching discipline. This is not to say Pitt’s character is a bad man, he makes it clear that his intentions stem from a place of love, it just seems to be the only way he knows.

       One of the movies many themes is that of grace versus nature, and the mother character played by Chastain is as graceful as anyone I have ever seen on screen. Her three sons relish in her warmth, and simple understanding of the world around them. It is a substantial contrast to the way they interact with their father.

       Malick ties the family as a unit, and the relationships that weave within the five of them to the creation of the universe, the earth, and all living things. As grand as this may seem on paper, the film will haunt you, and it really works. Mostly due to the fact that the film paces forward through stunning visuals of creation, evolution, nature, space, and a look at the eldest son’s life in the present day. Sean Penn has little screen time, and even fewer lines, but shares with the viewer his confusion and pain with his existing place in life, and how it all relates to his upbringing, etc.

       Much like the great Stanley Kubrick’s 2001, it is easy to dismiss the Tree of Life as grandiose to a fault, or pretentions, don’t. You would be doing yourself a great disservice. Instead of having your brain numbed ad nauseum by the box office sharks, see Terrance Malick’s meditative masterpiece, let it wash over you, instead of drown you with terrible dialogue and overblown effects. Seeing it is only the beginning of the experience.

            I fought tooth and nail to avoid Paul Feig’s, “Bridesmaids”. As much as I love Kristen Wiig, in everything she has been in, I thought it was destined to end in happy, chick flick, rom com, cinematic normalcy. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wiig is the new proclaimed face of comediennes. Somewhere, Gilda Radner is beaming.

            The only time I wasn’t laughing out loud, or at least, smirking during the film was when it tried too hard to gain footing in the Judd Apatow land of gross – out; although, the dress fitting scene was worth it.

            Wiig plays Annie, the hesitant maid of honor at the wedding of her child hood best friend, Lillian (Maya Rudolph, perfect as always). Annie is introduced to one of Lillian’s new friends, the beautiful, rich, Susan (Rose Byrne, some will remember her from Wicker Park, here she’s shockingly funny). The group of girls rounds out with NBC’s Office Alumnus Wendi McLendon-Covey who plays Rita, a suburban Mom waiting to let out her inner hard party girl, and Elle Kemper plays newly married, Disney obsessed Becca. Finally, stand up comic Melissa McCarthy plays the groom’s bawdy sister Megan. You won’t see much of the men in Bridesmaids, but what you do see is solid. Mad Men’s Jon Hamm scores big points as Annie’s directly honest, relationship - phobic, booty call, and relative newcomer Chris O’Dowd as a cop who legitimately digs Annie.

            Back to director Paul Feig, (who has helmed episodes of The Office, and Nurse Jackie) here he has nailed the laugh out loud while also allowing the film to be endearing, rather then cheesy. No easy feat. With all the nonsense packed screening rooms this spring has had to offer so far, don’t let the go girl cast stop you from Bridesmaids, it was made to surprise you.