A STUDY IN INSECURITY

I am a sucker for understatement in the movies. I hate it when a writer, director or actor feels like they have to hit me over the head to make a point. "I'm pretty intelligent!," I always want to scream. "You don't have to spell everything out for me in ten-foot letters!" I find you can often say more with less.

Last night's offering, LOVELY & AMAZING, was a perfect example of the kind of quiet film that I like. One that reveals its characters and their struggles with subtlety and indirection, rather than with hystrionics. I loved all of the characters, and felt like their internal battles and neuroses made perfect sense, just after watching them interact with each other through the first few scenes, as if spying on their daily lives.

I thought director Holofcener did a wonderful job of tweaking the intensity and developing a creeping sense of emotional dread, without resorting to obvious ploys. Three cheers for a film that so delicately veers away from the expected into the frequently touching and hilarious. By the time Michelle and Annie ended up at the McDonald's, I found myself crying quite unexpectedly. A totally brilliant scene of sparse, carefully calibrated dialogue and a lot of silence.

I think we all know that Catherine Keener is one of the greatest actresses out there, and in this film I saw in her a brittle fragility, a gloomy intensity that I hadn't detected in any of her other performances. She's joined in this film by a tremendous cast of a lot of people you know, but I have to say that Raven Goodwin as Annie may have stolen the show from this formidable group of Hollywood regulars.

Let's Not Forget About This Guy

 Maybe it was about a year ago, maybe a little longer.  Our friend Gus said he'd been to the battlefield at Gettysburg and it was an experience that we should not miss.  Last summer we saw this amazing, hallowed ground and were moved beyond words.  It was an extraordinary experience that really left its mark.  There is such loss and such heroism and it's all about the creation and identity of this incredible land we inhabit.  Our appetite had been whetted.

Some of you may have noticed a pencant on behalf of some of the contributors here at The Balcony that we like our PBS - It's sooo true.  So we cued up our NetFlix queue and nine episodes (and countless tears) later we're through Ken Burns' extraordinary work.  It is a masterpiece that features all the headlines and major battles discussed in exemplary detail, but follows the narrative through smaller treasures such as the meticulous diaries of an otherwise obscure yankee soldier and rebel soldier.  As these primary sources are read by the appropriately accented voices of Garrison Keillor and M.  Emmet Walsh, countless photos show the horror of this unbelievably bloody conflict. But the coup de gras comes at the end when moving (finally moving) pictures are shown of the actual combatants as they gathered at reunions in the 1910's and 1930's.  These are the actual men who bore witness to this atrocity and have lived to tell the tale.

And while there is such artisty in the assemblage, the greatest attribute of Mr. Burns' film is clearly the insight of his star scholar, Shelby Foote (pictured above).  Foote's contribution to the emotion of this story is enormous.  He feels the pain of both sides and tears up as he relates the adulation and awe with which the soldiers viewed Robert E. Lee.  His 3000 page narrative of the war is next on our readnig list, and if you haven't spent any time with Burns' extraordinary documentary, you should make room for it on your queue.

Here's some ginger for you

Okay, I've already referenced him in two other posts, so I figured I needed to just take the bull by the horns and just write about him. Him who? Him Damian Lewis, ginger-haired british actor who I'd like to think I discovered, but, per the usual, I'm late to the game.

First saw him as the completely evil Soames in the FORSYTHE SAGA and I was hooked, despite the fact that his character did all sorts of despicable things to his wife and family. Then it was BAND OF BROTHERS, and then KEANE. He does a wicked good american accent and his choice of diverse material and his ability to play all of these different characters has completely blown me away. Can't wait to see him in more good stuff. He also does quite a bit of theater.

(Note: No, I have not seen the Stephen King movie he did, which looked terrible, and I saw part of AN UNFINISHED LIFE on the airplane, which seemed to be about a bear, Robert Redford releasing the bear from captivity, Jennifer Lopez pretending to be a waitress, and the bear coming to visit Morgan Freeman. Damian Lewis was in there somewhere. I did, embarrassingly, watch him compete in a celebrity Football (translate - soccer) tournament in the U.K. while I was there. He was on Robbie Williams' team if that gives you any indication of the type of tourney it was.)

Anyway, he's one to watch - and if you haven't seen him, look out. He's so magnetic.

"I Want You To Kill Your Brother"

With that line, Ray Winstone's Captain Stanley sets forth the simple and sickly plot device which propels The Proposition.  This business is not for the faint of heart.  There is a world of pain in the 1880's outback and Stanley's thought that he will 'civilize this land' not only proceeds from morally shaky ground, but is also completely unrealizable.  Guy Pierce (made up to look like Clint Eastwood) does an admirable job and Danny Huston leaves you wanting a bit more, but all that proved quite secondary for me.  It was not the loyalty and the family issues which swirled around Pierce and Huston's Burns brothers, but rather the thin blue line that Winstone's Stanley ended up twirling around his own neck like a piano wire.  That's what really got me.  Stanley is sick - he's drinking, he's suffering from headaches, he's sweating and overweight.  The coppers under him don't really like or respect him.  As a viewer, you're not 100% on his judgment or methods.  And his relationship with his wife is characterized by trying to shelter her from all the bad-ness that's eating him up - but we all know that's not going to happen, right?  And it's only when she gets to see some blood spill first-hand that their relationship starts to change and he starts to feel better.  And that's when the dark really starts to close in.

Nick Cave does not serve up the choice lines that make the hair on the back of your neck stand up, but this film isn't really being marketed as a talker.  Instead, you get the tension - that piano wire once again - stretched to the point of breaking, only now it's in the pit of your stomach.  You know its coming.  It's just a moment away, the final, operatic bloodbath that will bring down the curtain on this dance of death.  And just before, don't the charcacters thank their Lord and Savior for what they are about to receive?  And in that same moment, the audience does the same.  And then there is a short pause, and then the film delivers with its ruthless directness and clarity.  Simple and devastating.

Winstone may never command the fees of his prettier contemporaries.  He may not be splashed on the cover of glossy magazines and we won't be wondering what he and his companion were wearing at the next Oscars.  But in this film and Sexy Beast and every other thing you've seen him in, you just give him the part and let the man do his job.  And he blows you away. The only real worry is that he'll make all those nice-looking superstars look bad. We wouldn't want that now, would we?

Guess who

Look familiar? Look closer. You know me.

To see more of me, tune into the latest Miss Marple - SLEEPING MURDER - this Sunday at 9 pm. It's really total fluff, but for 45 minutes, you can watch some old favorites cavort around in 1950s Britain, eating their cream teas and behaving respectably in between murdering each other.

Next episode - BY THE PRICKING OF MY THUMBS - has Charles Dance playing a vicar!

Learn more.

Gorged myself

Okay, so I didn't do a thing yesterday except watch three films, which are all extremely different. And the mix kinda made me ill - a bit like motion sickness.

First up: THE GOLDEN BOWL. I just visited Syon House in the U.K. last week with my friend Amie and her son, Oliver, (although he slept through most of the house tour) and it has been used for a number of films (GOSFORD PARK, THE MADNESS OF KING GEORGE, and the GB) - and I wanted to see them. The GOLDEN BOWL is one of the lesser-known Merchant-Ivory films, and it's okay. It's based on the Henry James novel, it's beautiful like all M-I films, the story held promise (former lovers marry a wealthy man and his daughter and the chests start heaving with passion/lots of smoldering looks), but...frankly, I was just interested in watching hunky Jeremy Northam.

Onto KEANE, starring Damian Lewis as William Keane, whose daughter was abducted at the port authority bus terminal in NYC a year before the film starts. He's living in a local hotel, and drinks and snorts coke and participates in all sorts of self-destructive behavior while not maniacally running around looking for his daughter. With the exception of two other characters, Lewis is the whole film, and that's pretty hard to do. He is so talented, I can hardly stand it. The film is terribly depressing and hard to watch sometimes, and by the end you question his story (this is not a spoiler).

Lastly, it was SHOPGIRL. Read the novella, loved it, saw the picture, loved it. Loved it, loved it, loved it. Perhaps I was totally emotionally spent from KEANE and I was craving a little joy, who knows. But I really enjoy Steve Martin's writing. Bummed I did not see this in the theater, but better late than never.

IF I COULD TURN BACK TIME

 Last night, home alone, I watched DONNIE DARKO during a vicious rain and thunder storm, just to add to the freaky atmosphere.  I don't know why it took two months to get this one into the DVD player, but I am so glad I finally did.  What a sad and beautful trip.  My love of Jake Gyllenhaal aside, this was one extraordinarily unique film.  The opening scene at the dinner table -with Jake and sister Maggie sparring hysterically - made me think I was in for some fairly standard teen-angst dramedy, but it didn't take long for things to twist in all kinds of unexpected directions.  Films about mental illness and retardation always walk a fine line, and often fall flat or are just generally insensitive, but this one succeeds brilliantly.  And after spending time with a new client yesterday who clearly has some MH issues of his own, I found myself particularly vulnerable to the depiction of Donnie's isolation.  

I would love to hear people's thoughts about Frank, and the time travel device - with all necessary spoiler alerts, of course.  I regret that I didn't see the director's cut (sorry, Dort), but I would be happy to hear what's different.  Either way, this is an astounding film.  Bravo.

Oh yeah, and one more thing.  Mary McDonnell.  I love her.  If I was in a movie, I would definitely want her to be my mom.