The Grouchy Editor

This little number from Ireland is the kind of movie you plop into the DVD player late at night, sit back and enjoy, and eventually forget.  I don’t mean that as an insult, although I suppose it’s not much of a compliment.  The problem with playwright-turned-director Conor McPherson’s ghost story is that it lacks tonal harmony.

The Eclipse begins as a melancholy chiller, with recently widowed Michael Farr (Ciaran Hinds) moping and coping with his two kids in their eerie little house in County Cork.  One night, Michael thinks he sees a ghost downstairs. 

He volunteers as a driver for a local literary festival, where he meets arrogant writer Nicholas Holden (Aidan Quinn) and, much more to his liking, London novelist Lena Morelle (Iben Hjejle).  There begins a middle-aged romance between Michael and Lena, complicated by the jealous and frequently drunk Holden.

Actors Hinds and Hjejle make for a refreshingly mature couple, something Hollywood can’t — or won’t — offer anymore.   They both hold back and reveal just the right amount of their characters’ inner selves.  We find ourselves pulling for them.

But this is also supposed to be a ghost story.  And this is where writer-director McPherson stumbles.  He works hard to create a quiet, charming romance between two very nice people, and every 20 minutes or so the SOUNDTRACK EXPLODES as some horrifying apparition manifests itself to poor Michael.  It’s exactly the same effect you get in any Nightmare on Elm Street film.  It’s jarring and it doesn’t fit in with the rest of the movie.       Grade:  B

Director:  Conor McPherson  Cast:  Ciaran Hinds, Iben Hjejle, Aidan Quinn, Dorothy Cotter, Eanna Hardwicke  Release:  2009

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Kick-Ass is stirring up controversy, mostly because of the foul language and violence swirling about its star, young Chloe Moretz, now 13.  Moretz plays a superhero of sorts, a gun-totin’, daddy-lovin’ prepubescent lass dubbed “Hit-Girl” who clobbers grown men, is clobbered in return, spews profanity like a hardened convict and, of course, saves the day.  She uses the c-word.  Both of them.

A lot of people apparently don’t like this.  They see it as sinful.  They might be right, but the biggest sin that Kick-Ass commits, to my way of thinking, is the imposition of boredom on its audience.

Does the idea of a little girl raising all that hell make you want to see the film?  If so, knock yourself out, because that would be the only reason to waste your time and money.  The plot is standard comic-book crap:  Nerdy teen boy (imagine a movie with a character like that!) dreams of being a hero, mostly to impress the girl who ignores him.  He gets his wish in the way only dumb movies like this can contrive, and is soon involved in ridiculous exploits with cardboard villains.

The introduction of “Hit-Girl” and her ex-cop daddy (Nicolas Cage) is mildly amusing.  When she swears and fights, it looks like an 11-year-old girl following a director’s instructions.  That didn’t bother me so much.  Everything else about the film certainly did.       Grade:  D

Director:  Matthew Vaughn  Cast:  Aaron Johnson, Chloe Moretz, Nicolas Cage, Lyndsy Fonseca, Christopher Mintz-Plasse, Mark Strong, Sophie Wu  Release:  2010

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Not long ago I read the novel The Monster of Florence, in which the Italian “justice” system was, well … put it this way:  I no longer wish to visit Italy as an American tourist.  Now comes director Erik Gandini’s documentary Videocracy, and it’s frightened me away from Italian television.

OK, so I don’t watch Italian TV, anyway.  But Gandini’s film elevates the corrupting influence of television to a whole new level.  According to this film, Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi has managed to sway an entire electorate with a televisual combination of sex, youth, and beauty.  Berlusconi, a charismatic media mogul and three-time prime minister, has used his television and magazine monopoly to convince the Italian populace that, with just a bit of good fortune, every last one of them can live the good life.  As Gandini narrates over the film’s final images:  “Anyone can become popular.  You just need to be seen.”

Gandini shows the folly of this daydream by juxtaposing the pathetic stabs at stardom by Ricky, a talentless young mechanic, with the life of luxury and decadence enjoyed by Berlusconi and his shady acquaintances, including baby-faced talent agent Lele Mora and paparazzi king Fabrizio Corona, whose hobbies include extortion and nude preening for the camera.  (Some of you ladies might consider this scene worth the price of admission; Corona is, ahem, blessed — and not the least bit camera shy.)

None of this is a revelation, of course.  The cult of celebrity has been examined and re-examined in this country and elsewhere for decades.  But unless Gandini’s film is a gross exaggeration of conditions in his native country, we might all do well to turn off the tube and pick up a good book instead.  Like, say, The Monster of Florence.      Grade:  B+

Director:  Erik Gandini  Featuring:  Silvio Berlusconi, Fabrizio Corona, Lele Mora  Release:  2010

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Crazy Heart presents itself as one of those small movies that can be so endearing,  an anti-blockbuster that grows on you — a “slice-of-life” picture — and the kind of film that frequently gets rewarded at the Oscars, if not the box office.  Well, Jeff Bridges has his Oscar now, and I have two hours of tedium to show for it.

You have to really, really like Bridges to endure this movie.  And I’ve always been a Bridges fan.  Since I first noticed him in 1974, stealing a movie (Thunderbolt and Lightfoot) from Clint Eastwood, Bridges went on to play one of my favorite movie villains (the sleek, sophisticated Jack Forrester in Jagged Edge), favorite space aliens (Starman) and, of course,  the role with which he’s now most associated, “The Dude” in The Big Lewbowski.

Bridges is good, but not spectacular, in Crazy Heart.  The problem is the movie itself, which is as flat as the desert landscape his character, washed-up singer Bad Blake, drives, drinks, and smokes his way through.  Nothing happens in this movie.  Blake gets drunk and sings a mournful song about his past.  He drinks some more and sings some more.  He meets a woman he likes.  He loses her.

At one point, it appeared that writer-director Scott Cooper was setting up a Rocky-like scenario:  has-been country artist gets payback on the upstart whose career he helped launch.  But when we meet the young ingrate (Colin Farrell), he turns out to be not such a bad guy.  Farrell is wasted in this movie, as are Maggie Gyllenhaal as a saintly single mother, and Robert Duvall as Blake’s longtime buddy.

Crazy Heart is like one of Bad Blake’s self-indulgent, drunken escapades:  the sooner forgotten, the better.      Grade:  D+

Director:  Scott Cooper  Cast:  Jeff Bridges, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Colin Farrell, Beth Grant, Robert Duvall  Release:  2009

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“I wouldn’t change anything in the film.  The film is very much what we set out to make.”  Thus spoke director Peter Jackson in a recent interview, defending his movie The Lovely Bones against some harsh critical reviews.  Now that I’ve seen the film, I’m on Jackson’s side.

I read novelist Alice Sebold’s ethereal book of the same name some years ago, and I thought Sebold managed to pull off a marvelous balancing act.  She penned a top-notch thriller about the hunt for a serial killer, while simultaneously painting a devastating and poignant picture of one family torn apart by the killer’s acts.  And to top that off, the story was narrated by a dead girl — from heaven (or some such place), no less.  How on earth could anyone, especially a director as seemingly unsubtle as Jackson (The Lord of the Rings, King Kong) translate Sebold’s prose to film?

Jackson succeeds on a number of levels.  The story arc involving the murderer, in particular, is gripping stuff.  Young Saoirse Ronan is a winning personality as tragic young Susie.  The disintegration of the Salmon family, on the other hand, has been truncated from the novel, and it feels like it.  And as for the scenes in “heaven” … geez, I dunno.  But they are spectacularly colorful.

I enjoyed this movie, and I didn’t really expect that I would.  The more I think about it, I wouldn’t change a thing, either.  Well, maybe some of the overplayed 1970s songs on the soundtrack ….       Grade:  B

Director:  Peter Jackson  Cast:  Mark Wahlberg, Rachel Weisz, Susan Sarandon, Saoirse Ronan, Stanley Tucci, Michael Imperioli  Release:  2009

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I’ve been trying to figure out why Vincere, an Italian historical drama starring Giovanna Mezzogiorno, left me so cold.  Especially since the movie so desperately wants to be affecting.

Vincere has an intriguing, fact-based story, an Oscar-worthy performance by its lead actress, and gorgeous photography.  The second half of the picture almost moved me, and then I finally realized what prevented it from doing so — the first half of the picture.

Vincere is the story of Ida Dalser (Mezzogiorno), mistress of the second-most-famous dictator of World War II, Benito Mussolini.  Years before Mussolini rose to power, Dalser bore him a son, then was cruelly discarded by Il Duce when it became politically expedient for him to do so.  Not to mention the fact that Mussolini already had a wife and kids.

Dalser, refusing to go quietly, was separated from her son and then shunted from one mental hospital to another.  Was she mentally unstable, or merely hopelessly devoted to the wrong man?  I have no idea, but in the film, her sufferings — which constitute the last (and best) hour of the movie — reminded me of another woman-unjustly-institutionalized drama, Frances, with Jessica Lange.  Frances, unlike this film, was emotionally powerful.

The problem with Vincere is that Dalser, with whom the audience is asked to empathize, is more like a curious lab specimen than a woman you might know.  You wonder:  Is she mildly delusional, or actually mentally ill?  The man she obsesses over, Mussolini, is a completely unsympathetic cad.  The separation of these two lovers could only be a good thing.       Grade:  C+

Director:  Marco Bellocchio  Cast:  Giovanna Mezzogiorno, Filippo Timi, Michela Cescon, Fausto Russo Alesi  Release:  2009

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When I read an Inspector Morse novel, or an Agatha Christie story with Hercule Poirot, I always forget the plot soon after.  What sticks with me about the Morse books is Morse himself, and the only thing I recall about any Poirot story is the little Belgian detective.  It’s this emphasis on character that elevates The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, a new Swedish film based on a bestselling book by Stieg Larsson.

If you analyze the plot of Girl, it could be any cookie-cutter American thriller, right down to the climax, in which the bad guy ties up the good guy and, inexplicably, feels the need to confess all before he offs our hero.  But director Niels Arden Oplev’s movie is rescued by good chemistry and charisma.

Noomi Rapace does gloomy yet manages to light up the screen as Lisbeth Salander, a goth-type who, finding herself victimized by both family and society, is not the type to let bygones be bygones.  Computer hacker Lisbeth gets mixed up with the most unlikely of companions — an older journalist (Michael Nyqvist) on his way to prison for libel.  Together, this odd couple develops mutual respect while solving a 40-year-old mystery involving a missing woman.

By tomorrow, I probably won’t remember much of Girl’s convoluted story, and I’m not likely to care that I don’t.  However, as with Morse and Poirot, I’ll likely have fond memories of these two Swedish crime-solvers.  Can anyone say “sequel”?        Grade:  B+

Director:  Niels Arden Oplev  Cast:  Michael Nyqvist, Noomi Rapace, Lena Endre, Peter Haber, Sven-Bertil Taube  Release:  2010

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