How Sweet It Is

Sugar is not your average baseball film. There is no: big game, ornery manager, greedy owner, hotshot rookie, final-inning-with-two-outs-and-a-two-runs-behind, improbable losing streak, improbable winning streak, groupie-with-a-heart-of-gold, veteran comeback or a guy off the street who becomes the team's star. In fact, we never know the standings, who the opposition is or even the full roster of players. Instead, there is Miguel "Sugar" Santos and a few other guys from the Dominican Republic who dream of playing pro to send some money back home. But this is just a small part of a film that uses baseball to paint a moving portrait of the immigrant experience.

The second feature by filmmaking team Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck follows their debut, Half Nelson, (about a teacher - who happens to be a drug-addict - trying to inspire his students), and once again turns genre expectations on its head. To be certain, the first half of Sugar is about what you might expect. It chronicles Sugar Santos and his teammates' struggles to make an impression and move up the ranks in the fiercely competitive and unforgiving world of minor league baseball. But what happens in the second half of the film - which has been erroneously cited in some reviews as a counter-intuitive narrative shift - is something brave and beautiful. Without spoiling the film, Boden and Fleck, use the character of Sugar and the merciless nature of professional play to create a cinematic dialogue about spiritual fulfillment, community and personal identity. Sugar's decisions in the second half of the film are difficult, but as he finally finds his place in America it's a bittersweet moment that eloquently captures the conflicting feelings of vanished dreams and the excitement of a new, unknown life that he will forge.

While the real baseball world continues to be rocked by scandals, there is no better time to see Sugar, a gentle reminder of those to whom it's more than just a game, but a ticket to a better life and unheard of opportunities.

Love and desire

When Leonard (Joaquin Phoenix) and Sandra (Vinessa Shaw) meet for the first time, it’s at a get together arranged by their parents. They make small talk, but when they get a moment alone, Sandra shyly admits that when she first saw Leonard at the dry cleaning store owned by his father, she wanted to meet him. After this revelation, the camera pulls back to show Sandra in a medium shot, sitting in the center of a couch, as Leonard seems to see her for the first time. It’s these kinds of touches that make elevate James Gray’s Two Lovers from a standard melodrama into something enigmatic and sensual.

Leonard, still reeling from the dissolution of his engagement with his fiancé, is back living at home, working at his father’s store and trying to figure out what to do with his life. In addition to Sandra, the daughter of another dry cleaning storeowner in negotiations to buy Leonard’s family business, there is Michelle (Gwyneth Paltrow), the mysterious neighbor upstairs. Leonard, attracted to both, begins a journey to try and replace the wound left by his fiancé. With Sandra, there are no surprises. She puts her heart on her sleeve, and though she doesn’t know the depth of Leonard’s emotional damage, she is committed to being there for him. She finds trust in Leonard’s tact, and unlike the other men who have tried to woo her, she admires that he doesn’t try to pretend to be something he’s not. However, Michelle is a wildcard, outgoing and seemingly successful. However, her ongoing affair with married lawyer Ronald (Elias Koteas) has left her needy and vulnerable, unable to contemplate a future without him.

If this all sounds rather dramatic and salacious on paper, in execution, it’s far more subtle and powerful. The linchpin to the film’s success is in the phenomenal performance by Joaquin Phoenix. Uncomfortable in his own skin and by turns charming and withdrawn, his take on Leonard finds the complexity and loss of a man drifting in his loneliness. There is a magnificent setpiece in a Manhattan restaurant, where Leonard is meeting Michelle and Ronald for dinner. He’s there to help Michelle assess whether or not Ronald really is sincere when he says he will leave his family to be with her. Leonard arrives early in a slightly rumpled suit and is seated at the table, set in a half circle booth. As he waits, he shifts uncomfortably, trying desperately to look at home in surroundings well outside his tax bracket. When Ronald and Michelle arrive and slide in, Leonard moves from the middle of the frame, in the center of the booth to the edge and almost outside the camera’s range, cowed by Ronald’s stature. It's a small touch that speaks volumes about Phoenix's character. The supporting cast also works wonders with the script, particularly Isabella Rossellini as Leonard’s mother Ruth. Her lines are few, however much of her performance is on her face, as she looks at Leonard with a mother’s knowledge of his pain combined with her maternal concern. Her presence in these scenes with Leonard is astonishing.

Two Lovers is a devastatingly beautiful look at the difference between love and desire, and the vulnerability that comes with giving your heart to another. Mature in a way that few films are, and surrounded by an aura of breathless longing, Two Lovers finds hope in the deepest of despair.

Homeland or death!

The roadshow version of Che finally arrived in Montreal, and to be sure, four and a half hours in a movie theater (including intermission) is a test for any moviegoer. But when it’s a dense, Spanish language film about revolutionary politics and guerilla warfare, the film demands a certain dedication. But not only does director Steven Soderbergh reward the audience for sticking with him through his riveting film, he has created one of the most intriguing portraits of a political figure in recent memory.

Part One of the film covers the intial meeting of Guevara and Fidel Castro, the roots of the Cuban revolution and the gradual taking of the entire country. Spliced into the story, is a narrative covering Guevara’s interview by CBS reporter Lisa Howard, his 1964 visit to New York City and speech to the United Nations. At first, the connection between the stories isn’t quite apparent, but what emerges is a study of contrasts. Soderbergh’s film instead of being a straight biography of Che Guevara, uses the figure to investigate where ideological and political warfare intersect and separate. As we watch Guevara gradually construct an army built from peasants, introduce reading and writing in makeshift camps and bring medical care to those who’ve never had it, we are blunted by this same man in military fatigues in swanky Manhattan apartments being asked for autographs and having his photo taken. And as Guevara speaks to the UN, it becomes apparent that the direct actions that are perhaps required in a third world nation, are not easily rationalized to an audience of first world politicians where warfare is conducted in meetings and handshakes.

While Castro transitioned easily from revolutionary to politician, Guevara’s ideals still drove him, and Part Two finds him in the jungles of Bolivia bringing the ideals forged in Cuba to a new struggle for independence. But more than a decade has passed, and the United States in the thick of Vietnam and an emerging Cold War have become more active in quashing unfriendly movements and anything perceived as being communist. The Bolivian government’s response to rumors of Guevara organizing in the countryside isn’t an ideological affront, but rather politically calculating. They engage US intelligence, spread propaganda and initially deny the presence of Guevara at all. Meanwhile, Guevara sticks to his methods used earlier in Cuba but finds loyalty harder to earn, discipline lacking, peasants more fearful and stigmatization because of his foreign status.

What emerges is a complex portrait of a man that Soderbergh bravely decides not to pass judgment on in either direction. Guevara is neither idolized nor pilloried, instead it’s only the results of his actions that are depicted. We see a man committed to educating his people and creating a society based on communal resources and values. However, we also see a man who at times is so stubbornly committed to his political vision, that he is blinded to their consequences which are more often than not, tragic.

Many have criticized Che for skipping over key parts of Guevara’s life or not being more critical about the blood on his hands, however, Soderbergh is wise in not trying to summarize a life that has become mythic in stature. Che is an ideological sketch of a man who struggled between his political, guerilla and humanitarian beliefs right up until his death.

Teasing An Embrace

The thirty second teaser for my fifth most anticipated film of the year is now online, and it looks absolutely gorgeous. Watch it here.

Hearing Benjamin Button

One the most anticipated films of the year, and one that I have been eagerly awaiting, is David Fincher's epic adaptation of F. Scott Fitzgerald's short story, The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button. The film chronicles the life and love of a man who, "born under unusual circumstances", ages backward. The film is already garnering Oscar buzz, and an early push is beginning for Alexandre Desplat's score. The French composer is one of the most innovative forces in Hollywood right now, and is best known by cinephiles for his stirring work on Jonathan Glazer's criminally underrated film, Birth. Warner Brothers, have launched their "For Your Consideration" site for British film critics that provides a quality stream of Desplat's score. In addition to the well received trailers for the film, it's yet another small, but exciting sampling from the film.

The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button opens on Chirstmas Day.

For Your Consideration: Bill Irwin

Before Rachel Getting Married arrived in theaters, it rode on a wave of buzz praising first time screenwriter Jenny Lumet's script and Anne Hathaway's turn as struggling drug addict, Kym. I caught the film over the weekend, and Lumet's writing and Hathaway's performance are definitely worthy of accolades, however, it's Bill Irwin's turn as Paul, the father caught in the middle of a family ripped apart by various tragedies, that really captured my attention.

Irwin has had a career that has varied from his Tony Award winning role as George in Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf on Broadway, to his induction into the International Clown Hall Of Fame for his extensive circus and comedy work. Oddly, it's his physical comedic skills that allow Irwin to give a richness to the character of Paul that is essential in communicating the pain that has gripped the family. While Paul is busy fussing over the family and the preparations for his daughter's wedding, the pain he feels is worn for the entire film on his fractured face, which looks like it will fall to pieces at any moment and in the nervous movements as he tries to ensure everyone has everything they need. Irwin has no big lines or big speeches, but ends up with one of the most devastating moments of the film, and where another actor would've played it large, Irwin slumps and retreats, defeated, without a word spoken.

While the Academy loves big meaty, scenery chewing parts, Irwin does something much more difficult. He envelops and finds the essence of a role that on paper doesn't offer much to work with. He gives Rachel Getting Married its wrecked, trembling heart and allows the audience to hope, along with Paul, that somehow it will be pieced back together.

For your consideration: Bill Irwin for Best Supporting Actor for Rachel Getting Married.

Don't Worry, Be Poppy

Director Mike Leigh, best known for his emotionally wrought dramas such as Vera Drake and Secrets & Lies, takes a 180-degree turn with his latest film, Happy-Go-Lucky. An unabashed burst of sunshine, Leigh’s lead character is Poppy, a 30 year old grade school teacher with a nearly manic thirst for life. Always eager to put a smile on someone’s face or listen to a problem, Poppy floats through her days content with living the same way she did at twenty years old. Leigh finds all of this oh so charming, and hopes the audience takes Poppy’s approach to life to heart as well, finding something winning in her unrestrained good nature and take-it-as-it-comes-with-a-smile-on-your-face attitude.

Unfortunately for Leigh, Happy-Go-Lucky veers dangerously close to being a tourism trip to the lower classes to celebrate their exotic ways. Poppy and her flatmate seem to live a life that is an extended version of a slumber party, as they walk around in old PJs, hang out together in their bedrooms and order take out. Poppy is also, conveniently, a grade school teacher where her amped up happiness can only prove to be an asset. However, a major sequence in the film has Poppy, her younger sister and her roommate heading out to the suburbs to visit her older sister. Pregnant, married and living in a new house with a yard, Leigh scripts her as haughty and condescending of Poppy’s lifestyle. The notion Leigh puts forth is that it’s inconceivable of somebody in the suburbs being truly happy the way Poppy is. It’s simplistic at best and borderline offensive at worst, suggesting that even though Poppy is lower down the food the chain, her lack of responsibilities somehow grant her a magical potion for a stress-free lifestyle. Leigh doesn’t see that there is a middle ground. There are many single people and couples with “adolescent” impulses, that also manage to balance mortgages, children and savings.

In an interview with the Hour, a weekly Montreal newspaper, Leigh states that the film is about "...the way ordinary people without privileges just get on with things, or don't, as the case may be. It's an anti-miserablist film, we are destroying ourselves and each other and the planet, and there's much to be gloomy about, but there are people out there getting on with it." What Leigh seems to not understand is that "ordinary people" "get on with it" because they have to. Poppy's life as a single woman with no children and a steady job, simply isn't representative of "ordinary people" and it's a major flaw that prevents Happy-Go-Lucky from gaining any kind of insight into the true workings of the lower or middle class. If Leigh had chosen a single mother, or a family with both parents working and raising children, it would've been a truer representation of what so-called "ordinary people" do to "get on with it". But he plays it safe and familiar, giving the audience a digestible, quirky British girl to tell them to smile and be happy with their lot. Which, to put it in British terms, is a whole lot of rot.

Woody's Barcelona

For the better part of three decades, Woody Allen has been New York City’s unofficial biographer, capturing with a lover’s eye, that magical city's elusive allure as he wound his characters through the streets that never sleep. Who can forget the brilliant series of black and white still shots that open Manhattan; the architecture tour in Hannah & Her Sisters or the numerous apartments, theaters and parks that tracked a relationship in Annie Hall. It seemed impossible to think of Woody Allen even considering shooting in another city. But while European audiences continued to support Allen, the quintessentially American filmmaker couldn’t seem to find an audience at home, and in 2005 Allen crossed the Atlantic where funding and support were more readily available.

Match Point, Allen’s triumphant return to critical acclaim, marked the first of three films shot in England. While both Match Point and Cassandra’s Dream were exercises in morality, and Scoop a nostalgic take on classic comedy tropes, Vicky Cristina Barcelona vaults itself over any genre specifications and into the canon of Allen’s finest accomplishments. Moreover, it finds Allen training his camera with the same lingering sense of longing and beauty that he would in New York City, on the landmarks of Barcelona and provincial Spain.

Needless to say, I’ve been looking forward to this film all year, but even I could not have anticipated what an accomplishment Vicky Cristina Barcelona is. On the surface, the traditional Allen themes of romanticism versus pragmatism, art versus commerce and the sources of artistic inspiration are all to be found here. But what unfolds is something richer that taps deep into the well of the sacrifices that are made for passion and comfort, wrapped in a remarkable package that is by turns hilarious and sober.

Best friends Vicky (Rebecca Hall) and Cristina (Scarlett Johannson) are on vacation in Barcelona. Vicky is due to marry her thoroughly bland fiancee Doug upon her return to New York City, while Cristina is simply drifting, caught in a state of post-graduation uncertainty. One night at dinner, they are very openly propositioned by Juan Antonio (Javier Bardem), an artist who suggests they all spend the weekend together in the country, take in the sights, have some good food and of course, sleep together. The buttoned down Vicky is appalled, while Cristina is intrigued. They end up deciding to go with Juan Antonio, but with no guarantee of sex. Of course, both girls end up falling for Juan Antonio and from there, without spoiling the film for anyone, the wheels are put in motion for a very interesting summer.

Allen seems to have relished his time in Bareclona and Spain, as he scatters the film with shots of Gaudi’s famous buildings, the colorful alleyways of metropolitan Barcelona, and with a honey glazed lens, finds the soul of rural Spain, with simple shots of storefronts and quiet landmarks that left my fellow audience members literally gasping. But beneath these shots, and just visible under the dual love triangles that make up the film, is a very sophisticated script that offers up a progressive view of artistic relationships (both romantic and professional), that considers what each person brings into a situation, and makes quiet argument that sometimes multiple partners are needed to maintain the balance of sexual, artistic and emotional needs. It’s an intriguing logic, and certainly very “European”, but it’s all the more remarkable in that it’s coming from a man who is at an age when most directors and writers have long retired. It’s inspiring to find a director who is still working out new angles on familiar themes, with the intelligence many in the industry half his age simply lack.

Vicky Cristina Barcelona was more than worth the wait, and it ranks with Allen’s finest films. Funny and heartwarming, it’s a wonderful journey that doesn’t offer simple solutions for the lives of artists, but humbly suggests, without judgment, that the paths chosen are the ones best for the individual (or individuals) involved.

Clint Eastwood 1, Spike Lee 0

This summer, Spike Lee and Clint Eastwood got into a very public war of words, when Lee attacked Eastwood for not giving enough representation to African-American soldiers in his duo of WWII films, Flags Of Our Fathers and Letters From Iwo Jima. Lee made the comments at the Cannes film festival, where he just happened to be showcasing an eight minute reel of his own WWII epic, Miracle At St. Anna. While I understood Lee's point, his actions played out as nothing more than some bait to throw journalists to give free promotion to his upcoming film. As for Eastwood, his reaction was just as juvenile, and I frankly thought his WWII films were a pedestrian endeavor at best. All that said, I hoped that Lee would back up his vitriol with a film that would finally bring a real African-American perspective to WWII.

He didn't.

Miracle At St. Anna is a qualified trainwreck that conversely has too much and too little within its overly long two hour and forty minute running time. What is in excess is plot, with James McBride's script (adapted from his own novel) overflowing with multiple, meandering plot lines that often stall and stutter, instead of advancing the story. Thus, its all the more vexing that every character in the film - the quartet of black soldiers; German soliders; Italian citizens and even Americans back home - never develop beyond one dimensional characters. It's hard to believe that the same man who made the wonderfully furious and complex Do The Right Thing is responsible for the run of baby killing Germans, gesticulating Italians, backward hillbillies and ignorant American Army brass that populate the film. McBride and Lee even have the audacity of tossing in a "magical negro", an archetype which Lee himself so famously derided, into one of the lead roles.

As I waited with growing impatience for the film to end, wondering why John Leguizamo, John Turturro and Joseph Gordon-Levitt all signed up for roles that were essentially nothing more than (wasted) cameos, it was Derek Luke's magnetic performance that kept me invested in the film. And the photo still above starts one of the most powerful shots/sequences in the film, that ranks right up there with Lee's most memorable scenes, and it still gave me hope that Lee had something up his sleeve for the ending.

But it wasn't to be.

McBride's script closes the film with a conclusion so pat and sweet, you may need to see the dentist, and then as if to up the unbelievability factor, Lee treats the audience to "He's Got The Whole World In His Hands" over the end credits. Lee's film is so bad that comparing it Eastwood's film - or any other WWII film for that matter - is just embarrassing.

Spike Lee hasn't lost his passion, but with Miracle At St. Anna, he lost his focus. With the film unfolding in a few different directions - WWII epic, revenge film and fantasy film - it never gels into a cohesive whole. His indictment of the treatment of African-American soldiers simply gets lost in the mechanics of a preposterous, overly complicated story. I'm still rooting for Spike Lee but he needs to get back to the kind of lean, effective filmmaking that made Do The Right Thing, Clockers, Get On The Bus, 25th Hour and Inside Man so invigorating and powerful.

Vicky Cristina Montreal?

It seems for the second time this year, Montreal cinemas have been robbed of Woody Allen’s latest film. This spring, I waited anxiously for Cassandra’s Dream to appear on cinema screens in the city. I go to the theater once a week and on three separate occasions I had seen the trailer for the film, with the logo for Montreal based distributor Metropole Films preceding the ad. Unfortunately, the film never materialized. Now, with glowing reviews, a stellar cast including Javier Bardem, Penelope Cruz and Scarlett Johansson, and one of the widest opening screen counts in his career, Woody Allen is again getting the cold shoulder from Montreal cinemas. Being in Quebec, Montreal film openings occasionally fall a week behind North American opening dates as the province’s byzantine and bizarre language regulations (generally) dictate that a dubbed or subtitled version of English films must also be available concurrently. But now, the second week after its opened, Vicky Cristina Barcelona is still nowhere to be seen in the province. This situation is even more bizarre as Woody Allen & His New Orleans Jazz Band were one of the featured artists of the Festival International De Jazz De Montreal this summer, playing two high-profile, sold-out (and expensive) shows.

To be fair, Woody Allen’s two previous films, the critically acclaimed Match Point and the underrated Scoop, had dismal runs in the city, barely lasting three weeks before being pulled. Adding to the confusion is that some smaller or independent films will often have separate Quebec based distributors handle the film, rather than the studio handling the rest of the North American rollout. But as the jazz festival has amply indicated, there is still a strong interest in the man and his films, and there should be no reason why Vicky Cristina Barcelona is not being put on at least one screen in this city.

The Weinstein Company who is handling the film’s distribution, in the face of weathering bad press and less than stellar box office returns from its recent slate of films, is perhaps playing it safe by landing this film in markets where it is sure to do well. But surely a Quebec distributor can step up and acquire the rights for this province? Is Woody Allen’s clarinet playing really more popular than his films in Montreal?

Le Scaphandre et le papillon/The Diving Bell And The Butterfly (Julian Schnabel, 2007)

Fashionable, wealthy and influential, Elle editor Jean-Dominique Bauby seemingly had it all. Yet, when he suffered a stroke driving in his convertible in the middle of the French countryside, leaving his beautiful country home, one wonders if the damage he eventually suffered could have been averted if he had been closer to immediate medical assistance. We meet Bauby when he first wakes up in the hospital, where he discovers he has been in a coma. The doctors' standard questions soon turn to concern as the extent of the damage Bauby has suffered becomes apparent. He is diagnosed with Locked In Syndrome – a rare condition in which the brain retains all cognitive function but is unable to communicate with the rest of the body – and the once worldly Bauby is now confined to a wheelchair, unable to even speak.

The masterstroke of Julian Schnabel’s film, is that it refuses to stay confined by Bauby’s physical condition. Based on the titular memoir by Bauby - composed entirely by communicating to his speech therapist by blinking his left eye to identify letters as she reads them down from a chart in order of popular usage - Schnabel’s film pushes its setting far beyond the hospital doors, capturing the endlessly fertile thoughts spinning in Bauby’s head. While the film does focus on Bauby’s health and his care, celebrating his struggle and accomplishment in penning the novel, it never flinches from presenting his troubling relationships with the women in his life or the seemingly vacuous nature of this job at the magazine. Both before and after the accident, Bauby is presented as smart, sarcastic, funny, a jerk and a warm-hearted friend. We see him for everything he is from a dedicated son in the moving and heart wrenching scenes with his father (played magnificently by Max Von Sydow), to a callous, selfish man as he continues to juggle relationships between his lover and his wife, even from his hospital bed.

Largely filmed from Bauby’s point-of-view perspective, it’s no surprise that Julian Schabel comes from an art background. He finds compelling and beautiful ways to both capture to the terror of Bauby's condition and the beauty of his imagination. Using his painter’s eye, and working alongside noted cinematographer Janusz Kaminski, The Diving Bell & The Butterfly is a film that – like its subject – uses its limited resources to maximum effect. It refuses to be bound by conventions, and leaps boldly and beautifully to piece together the memories of a decadent life that finds its meaning in the gravest of tragedies.

The Savages (Tamara Jenkins, 2007)

There is a key moment in the final third of Tamara Jenkins' beautifully crafted The Savages, when a student asks her theater teacher, and Bertolt Brecht devotee Jon Savage (Philip Seymour Hoffman) what the difference between plot and narrative is. It's a sly wink on behalf on Jenkins, who also wrote the screenplay, as her second full length feature quietly and confidently side steps a traditional story arc for something far more organic.

The film traces the difficult decision of siblings Jon and Wendy Savage (Laura Linney) to place their aging father, who is suffering from dementia, into a nursing home. Still dealing with the effects of a less than perfect childhood in which their mother left and their father never seemed to be present, Jon and Wendy struggle to balance their feelings of the past to deal with the present situation. While the subject matter is serious, the tone is appropriately much more complex. Jenkins' intelligent screenplay, is by turns hilarious and heartbreaking, and thankfully avoids self indulgent hand wringing, big dramatic speeches or an overwrought message, favoring illuminating moments found in the smallest of spaces.

As the film progresses, the somewhat estranged Jon and Wendy form a quiet bond as they care for their father. Both deliriously intelligent (anyone with a remote knowledge of liberal arts college courses will chuckle at many of the references peppered throughout), with a shared love of the theater, their time together also brings to the surface some harsh and at times similar realities about their personal lives. It isn't long before a tentative, unspoken alliance is made with a quiet support and respect for each other.

There are no reconciliations or easy answers here. As their father slips further away into his disease, there is hard fought acceptance and a desire by Jon and Wendy to at least try and connect with him before he's gone. Their efforts are genuine and at times touching, but always leavened by the fact that their father's time is almost up. Time passes, and a small part of each of them grows up a little more. No, they haven't quite figured out all the angles yet of their personal lives, and maybe they never will, but with a new found effort to stay connected, the Savages realize that sometimes family are the only ones who can understand you.