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Little Voice Directed by Mark Herman Starring Michael Caine, Brenda Blethyn, Jane Horrocks Distribution: Miramax *** / B+ |
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Jane Horrocks' character of the preciously-deemed L.V. (short for "Little Voice") is the kind that immediately conjures images of Oscar -- here we have yet another one of those much-feted quirky, unforgettable characters: in this case, a cowering young woman who can barely squeak out a word, but belts out astonishing imitations of Judy Garland and Shirley Bassey tunes in the safety of her bedroom. While she's nicely rendered by Ms. Horrocks, for my money, Little Voice's premier performance (which will inevitably be overlooked) is that of Brenda Blethyn as L.V.'s boozy, desperately trampy mother, as loud and domineering as L.V. is mute and timid. It's a remarkable display of egregiously reckless piteousness, and one in which she unabashedly wallows with utter abandon. Between this and Secrets & Lies, Ms. Blethyn demonstrates a formidable range which should keep her busy well into the next millennia. Still, it'll undoubtedly be Ms. Horrocks who garners much attention, and not without merit -- her remarkable vocal performances alone will likely vault her into serious award contention (as the film swooned to its conclusion, I expectantly remained in my seat, ready to scan the end credits to find who performed the vocals which Ms. Horrocks had lip-synced -- I, obviously, hadn't seen the stageplay -- only to be immediately stunned by the very first credit testifying to her own vocal work.) It's not so much that Ms. Horrocks aurally resembles Marilyn Monroe and Judy Garland and Billie Holiday, although she acquits herself admirably -- what's most stunning is how little in common each of her 'voices' share with each other. Her acting, due to the necessities of her role, is ostensibly more than a shade less spectacular, but there's something to be said about a performance which creates a fragile character so endearing that the audience becomes protective of her -- the story unimaginatively incorporates this sentiment in most literal fashion through her awkward courtship by an equally shy young man (Ewan McGregor, always a welcome addition) who tends pigeons. The narrative itself is a rather traditional star-is-born tale with inklings of the Cinderella story -- timid, shy heroine; harsh, selfish mother; protective paternal presence -- but under the capable direction of Mark Herman (Brassed Off), it's effective all the same, and often very funny. While the climax is, to say the least, excessively melodramatic, this picture is one to be cherished foremostly for its indelible characters and music.
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23 Directed by Hans-Christian Schmid Starring August Diehl, Fabian Busch Distribution: none ** / C |
An unquestionably compentent, absolutely mediocre fact-based film about the German hackers involved in a notorious bout of electronic espionage during the 1980s, this film wisely realizes that there's absolutely nothing particularly cinematic about watching a guy staring at his computer screen, and shrewdly focuses instead on the fracturing relationship between the tandem as they peddle data to the KGB and overindulge in drugs. (The film's title refers to an number dictated in "Illuminatus", the book alleging the existence of a secret society bent on world domination, which our protagonist increasingly obsesses over as he becomes more and more paranoid and strung-out.) While it's a fun bit of nostalgia to listen to people discuss the computing power of Commodores and Ataris after all these years, the film never gels into a particularly interesting trip -- weeks from now, if I remember this at all, it'll be for being the third screening in my life which was interrupted by a fire alarm in mid-film.In attendance: director Hans-Christian Schmid
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Shattered Image Directed by Raul Ruiz Starring William Baldwin, Anne Parillaud Distribution: Lions Gate * ½ / D+ |
In retrospect, I should have been tipped off by Kay Armatage's programme book notes for Raul Ruiz's Shattered Image, in which she spends two of the capsule's four paragraphs simply waxing over the credentials of the creative team. It's indeed a good one, and as the film's opening credits rolled, I was sent into a state of expectancy as names such as Robby Muller (cinematographer) and Barbet Schroeder (producer) appeared onscreen. The picture blurs the line between reality and fantasy, creating an immediate atmosphere of disorientation as we're never certain which collection of scenes is the genuine article. Mr. Ruiz teases the audience with this feeling of uncertainty, but rather than being intrigued, I quickly grew disinterested as nothing that was occuring in any of the threads was remotely engrossing or even particularly interesting. It doesn't help matters that the film seems miscast -- Anne Parillaud, as good an actress as she is (and to some degree playing off her career-defining performance in Luc Besson's La Femme Nikita), isn't the right person for the part (she's spectacularly unconvincing as aloof), while William Baldwin's range has never seemed so limited. I haven't seen Lisanne Falk, who plays the flick's mysterious femme fatale (and also apparently doubled as co-producer), in anything since Heathers, but based on her work here, I don't think I've missed anything. Lions Gate, who hold distribution rights, would do best to bury this one, methinks: while I've spoken to some who enjoyed it, many at my screening wrapped up the flick by vigorously booing.
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Am I Beautiful? Directed by Doris Dörrie Starring Franka Potente, Otto Sander, Senta Berger Distribution: none *** / B+ |
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The opening third of Am I Beautiful? is thrilling, as the camera wanders from one character to the next in seemingly random fashion, quietly observing a series of very peculiar and terribly funny stories unfold. It's only as the film enters its second act do the threads gradually coalesce in a clever, extremely graceful manner; in retrospect, it's remarkable that director Doris Dörrie was able to assemble the bulk of the picture's mismatched characters into a common scene without striking a contrived, artificial note. An utterly intriguing meditative on life, love and aging, the picture features some great humorous scenes and touching points of interest, with a cast of characters rendered particularly striking through the manner in which they're introduced onscreen -- as a rule of thumb, first impressions are always important, but here we have the benefit of observing (often aberrant) behaviour, with which we quickly grasp an understanding of these people. (Maria Schrader's work perhaps leaves the most vivid impression.) As thoughtful and moving as the film is, I was particularly impressed by its comic sensibilities, which range the gamut from ironic to madcap. Am I Beautiful? features a handful of scenes which are among the most remarkable I've seen all year -- one, involving an immaculately sanitized white room, is particularly unforgettable. A very satisfying film experience which deserves North American distribution.
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This Is My Father Directed by Paul Quinn Starring Aidan Quinn, James Caan Distribution: Sony Pictures Classics *** / B |
Two out of three were known quantities -- Aidan Quinn's a very solid actor (easily turning in the best performance in Legends Of The Fall, for example), while Declan Quinn's unquestionably one of the top cinematographers in the business -- so the jury was out on brother Paul, who served the critical role in this equation as first-time writer and director on the family project. Generally speaking, he acquits himself quite nicely, though more in the latter than the former -- This Is My Father is an utterly conventional though solid picture of tragic forbidden love in an period Irish setting. While the flashback sequences depicting the romance between poor-but-good-hearted Kieran O'Day (Aidan Quinn) and wild spirit Fiona Flynn (newcomer Moya Farrelly, more than adequate) act as the core of the film, I was surprised how endearing and effective a seemingly-disposable present-day fling played in parallel. As familiar as the picture's main plot is, it's nonetheless effectively penned (aside from its too-cute curse element), prudently working the tearjerker mechanism at every emotional point in the film. (The flick also ends on somewhat of an unexpected hopeful note, which is hard to reconcile with the emotional devastation of the preceding ten minutes.) Paul Quinn also benefits from uniformly good performances by his cast, although his parachute-style method for handling the picture's name-actor cameos (Stephen Rea, John Cusack, Colm Meaney) can be quite jarring -- indeed, one of the actors literally falls from the sky for a five-minute sequence which is completely at odds with the flick's tone.In attendance: director Paul Quinn
