|
Living Out Loud Directed by Richard LaGravenese Starring Holly Hunter, Danny DeVito Distribution: New Line ** ½ / B- |
 |
While I don't have the survey figures to substantiate it, I feel safe asserting that most screenwriters want to direct, and a good number of them have filed their personal pet screenplay in their desk somewhere in the hopes of one day making it the basis of their helming debut. The breezy romantic comedy Living Out Loud marks the directorial debut of A-list screenwriter Richard LaGravenese, but it's difficult to imagine that the screenplay here was his secret little gem -- while he creates two terrific characters in Judith (Holly Hunter, playing a lonely, depressed divorcee) and Pat (Danny DeVito, as a single elevator operator in her apartment building recuperating from familial tragedy), and provides a handful of nice lines, the film lacks a compelling and fulfilling narrative arc -- the bittersweet conclusion, in particular, stumbles. Since the picture's focus is more upon Judith's personal growth rather than the romantic elements, we get into her head, and perhaps a bit more than is effective -- the comic fantasy sequences are awkward and thankfully dropped as the film progresses. (And I have no idea what the choreographed dance sequence in the lesbian bar has to do with anything else in the flick, as fun as it is.) Servicably directed, it's an unspectacular, cute picture -- a standard date movie (although the demographics on the cast will probably skew towards an older audience). If for nothing else, I enjoyed the scenes where 5'2" Hunter gets to squabble opposite 6'1" Martin Donovan -- which, on a big screen, looks like a height difference of twenty feet.
|
L'École De La Chair (School Of The Flesh) Directed by Benoît Jacquot Starring Isabelle Huppert, Vincent Martinez Distribution: Stratosphere *** / B |
Though the epilogue of L'École De La Chair immediately reminded me of that in Benoit Jacquot's gem La Fille Seule, its opening elements brought to mind a picture which didn't seem to forecast a particularly bright future -- Brigitte Rouan's Post Coitum, Animale Triste. Like that film, this flick brings together a middle-aged, slavishly devoted woman (Dominique, portrayed by Isabelle Huppert) and a much younger, immature, often aloof man (Vincent Martinez's Quentin) into an impulsive, primarily sexual relationship which quickly sours, much to the distress of the lady. However, unlike the Rouan film, L'École De La Chair picks up considerably durings its latter half (thankfully, there are no shots of cats writhing in heat in Mr. Jacquot's picture), particularly after a surprise plot twist which, in truth, is easily telegraphed well in advance -- rule of thumb: there is no such thing as a throwaway shot of seemingly-unrrelated characters intensely gazing at each other for extended periods of time. Some interest and intrigue is sustained -- the double-date scene is especially fascinating and uncomfortable -- and it's interesting to consider the curious relationship and its implications on the characters of the two protagonists, particularly Dominique's devolution from cool, upscale professional to one with a needy, clingy desperate attachment to this emotionally distant and detached young stud, and tears up at frequent intervals. (Though this subject matter would seem to scream French, the screenplay's actually based on a Japanese novel.)
|
Conte D'Automne (Autumn Tale) Directed by Eric Rohmer Starring Marie Rivière, Béatrice Romand Distribution: October Films *** / B+ |
 |
Eric Rohmer shifts his traditional focus away from the dalliances of the young (though Alexia Portal is beguiling) with this final installment of his quartet of season-named films, and appropriately towards the middle-aged in Conte D'Automne, a sweet-hearted tale of matchmaking gone gently awry. As in all of his films, it's not the destination of the story that make his work entrancing as much as it is the journey taken, and here, the signature dissections of love and romance by the picture's characters are warmly delivered. The focus here is Magali (Béatrice Romand), an independent 40something winemaker who quietly despairs of ever finding companionship, and her two friends who each secretly (and conflictingly) arrange for a suitor to woo her -- young Rosine (Ms. Portal) brings her much-older ex (Didier Sandre), while forthright contemporary Isabelle (Marie Rivière) places a personal ad in Magali's name to ensnare Gerald (Alain Libolt, the film's standout) -- the scene in which she matter-of-factly, unapologetically reveals her deception to the candidate is delicious, and unfolds unlike you'd expect. Much confusion ensues, of course, but this is not a madcap caper (it's Rohmer, after all) -- despite the elements of scheming and deceit involved, this is a delightfully tender and bracingly touching story of considerable perception and literacy which sketches good-hearted characters grappling with romantic destiny. A relaxed, utterly appealing work -- Rohmer in his element.
|
Luminous Motion Directed by Bette Gordon Starring Deborah Kara Unger, Eric Lloyd Distribution: none * / D- |
It's always a drag to catch a dog of a movie, but it's especially maddening at the film festival, since one quick glance through the festival booklet informs what possible gems one's missed while watching two hours vaporize before your eyes. Leafing through the schedule now after the fact, I can't spot a single thing opposite Luminous Motion which would normally raise my interest (the Drew Barrymore-starrer Home Fries? -- nah...), yet still I feel gypped. Bette Gordon's first feature in well over a decade, the picture at least has an initial premise which interests and holds potential, but the resultant story is an unbearable blob of aimless and directionless psychodrama, fronted by an irritatingly precocious ten-year-old protagonist who nauseates by continuously providing banal, transparent voice-over analogies between scientific princples of motion and his on-the-road lifestyle (the sinking feeling emerged the minute physics textbooks began to conspicuously appear in car scenes.) Phillip (Eric Lloyd, who's given far too much narration, and delivers it with far too little conviction) and his mom (Deborah Kara Unger, she of the great Nordic cheekbones) lead a nomadic existence, motoring around the country in their beat-up Chevy and surviving on Mom's skill at turning tricks and stealing cash and other sundries from her customers. So far, so good. It's when Mom suddenly decides to settle into a normal lifestyle, hunkering down with suburbanite Pedro (Terry Kinney), that Phillip faces his first crisis and goes around the deep end, and when the film dives into a pit of abysmally silly and scattershot psychologically-oriented subplots, the worst of which include Phillip's acquisition of two lamebrained teen friends (portrayed by first-time child actors who are utterly atrocious -- the cast of Degrassi Junior High look like minature Sean Penns and Meryl Streeps next to this pair). Mixing reality and projections of "ghosts" with a hokey, out-of-phase fuzzy device, Luminous Motion's attempts at surrealism fall woefully short. "Come on, Mom!" whines Phillip at (far too) many points in the flick. "Let's get in motion!" (Yes, this is indicative the level of irony and ingenuity in the screenplay.) The only compulsive need for motion I felt was for the exit.In attendance: director Bette Gordon, actor Deborah Kara Unger, screenwriter Robert Roth, producers Anthony Bregman, Ted Hope
|
Apt Pupil Directed by Bryan Singer Starring Ian McKellen, Brad Renfro Distribution: TriStar *** / B |
 |
Bryan Singer delivers an effective, gloomy film rendition of the Stephen King novella Apt Pupil, technically solid and broodingly atmospheric. Admittedly, it'd be pretty difficult to mess up this particular story, and for the most part it's successful, efficiently striking each plot point, but for some reason the picture excises most of the motivation behind Todd's (Brad Renfro) fascination with Dussander (Ian McKellen) -- whether this was missing in the screenplay adaptation by Brandon Boyce or excised during editing isn't ascertainable, but there's consequently no real focus on the germination of the bizarre relationship between the two characters, which is the real core of the story. More irking, a troublesome side-effect is that it absolves Todd's complicity far more than I would have preferred -- rather than being a twisted, genuinely disturbing lad as in the story, he comes off instead as a young man whose morbid curiosity leads him astray. Todd is softened to such an extent that fantasy sequences imply his horror at the outrage of the Holocaust rather than his perverse exhiliration, and the film's conclusion is curiously metaphoric -- witness the American flag prominently flying in the background. Though it's always difficult to cinematically depict a character's inner turmoil, the film skirts psychological details: the resurrection of Dussander's bloodlust is unconvincing. All the same, it's nicely paced and tension is achieved throughout much of the film (although the audience broke out in laughter at the appearance of David Schwimmer). Other than this dubious choice, this is an extremely well-cast film, with Sir McKellan particularly impressive as the old Nazi war criminal. (Grain of salt: my affinity for this material and expectations for the film are undoubtedly higher than the average viewer's due to my unhealthy familiarity with the novella.)In attendance: director Bryan Singer, actor Brad Renfro, co-producer Tom DeSanto
