Fruitvale Station (2013)

Big opener: Fruitvale Station is my favorite film of 2013. It won both the Grand Jury Prize (Dramatic) and Audience Award (U.S. Dramatic) at the 2013 Sundance Film Festival. After seeing it, I believe its certainly deserving of the accolades.

(In the interest of fairness, I still haven’t seen “Her,” or “American Hustle,” but intend to. That said, they would have to be exceptional—I mean unexpectedly fantastic—for me to place them above “Fruitvale”).

The film opens with shaky camera-phone footage of the infamous incident at the San Francisco-area BART subway station. (If you don’t know what exactly that is, no matter; you’ll be reminded almost immediately). The grainy footage shows a group of young, African-American males on the ground, surrounded by several police officers. There is yelling, shoving, and some commotion. In an instant, the participants’ lives are indelibly changed.

The entire movie takes place over one day, New Year’s Eve 2009. We meet Oscar Grant, played by Michael B Jordan (HBO’s “the Wire,” “Red Tails,” “Chronicle;” you may have also seen him in trailers for the newest, soon-to-be-released Zac Efron picture “That Awkward Moment”). Oscar’s 22-years old, and works at an upscale, Whole-Foods-esque grocery trying to carve out a better life for him and his family. He’s dabbled in weed dealing before, but is trying to get on the straight-and-narrow. He has a young daughter Tatiana (Ariana Neal) with his girlfriend Sophina (Melonie Diaz, whose face is familiar, but who I couldn’t place specifically; an IMDB search says she’s been in countless films and TV shows, the most prominent of which are “A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints,” and the Jack Black/Mos Def/Michael Gondry film “Be Kind Rewind”). She’s often on him to grow up, and get his life together. He clearly cares about them both enough to try.

We see Oscar do all the every-day things people do: take his daughter to day care, arrange birthday dinner for his mother Wanda (played by Academy-Award winner Octavia Spencer who, along with Forrest Whitaker, is also one of the film’s producers), call his grandma for a fried-fish recipe, etc... In almost every way, Oscar is a thoughtful, kind, normal, middle-class everyman, struggling to make his and his family’s lives better. Except that he also happens to be African American in a country where that, alone, is sometimes enough to raise suspicion.

“Fruitvale Station” is fairly straightforward. Told mostly in flashback, it shows an average day, in the life of an average young father. The specific details of that day all lead up to the fateful moment at the subway station. What elevates the film is that it contains simple, honest, joyous, life-affirming moments, where we connect with its characters. Several times these moments had me smiling and laughing. The fact that the movie opens by showing the harrowing event that will ultimately occur to its characters later in the film, is an interesting directorial choice. During the movie we get to know, and grow fond of its characters, leading up to that dramatic climax. This chronological story-telling decision (to put the ending first) made the inevitable conclusion all the more powerful, and heart-rending.

Some may see parallels between this film, and 1991’s “Boyz in the Hood.” Without question they share themes and dramatic elements. Also, they were both directed by promising, precocious, young (in “Fruitvale’s” case, almost unbelievably young; director Ryan Coogler was only 27 when he made the movie) African-American film makers.

However, “Fruitvale Station” reminded me more of the 2006 Ryan Gosling film “Half Nelson.” They’re both stories about decent young men who, while occasionally screwing up more than a little, care genuinely about kids, and honestly strive for better places for themselves. Both movies might be reduced to being called niche, genre films (“A Black film,” or “Drug film,” respectively). However, each is so much more than that. They’re both about the bonds their characters share, the difficult struggles of life, human frailty and failure (and their tragic results), and finally redemption. Each shows overwhelming sadness but, I think, is ultimately positive and optimistic in its outlook. (Like “Fruitvale Station,” “Half Nelson” was my favorite movie the year it was released).

I implore you, in the name of all things good and true, see this movie. I was surprised by how deeply its pure and sincere performances touched me, as well as how far it exceeded expectations. The fact that it’s based on a real-life event only adds to its appeal. You will recognize other notorious TV headlines in this story. If you’re like me, these reminders will at once make you angry and sad, yet hopeful. It’s a credit to the filmmakers that “Fruitvale” can conjure such a broad range of emotions, so effectively.

PS- I’ve intentionally tried not to give too much away in this review. Which isn’t easy, given that the film examines a national news story. However, even if I have, don’t worry; you haven’t learned anything here that you wouldn’t in the film’s first five minutes. You will enjoy this movie, even if you think you know exactly what’s going to happen.

Eye of God (1997)

The poster could've been better.

How’d I miss this? What a superb, atmospheric, suspenseful, compelling independent film. Absorbing from beginning to end, Tim Blake Nelson’s “Eye of God” is my “overlooked film of the moment.” It’s one that deserves more acclaim than it’s received.

The story’s unfolds in parallel lines: in one, local teenager Tom Spencer (Nick Stahl) is discovered by police late one night, drenched in blood, wide-eyed, stunned and uncommunicative. What could’ve caused this? What did he do?

In the other, 20-something waitress Ainsley Dupree (Martha Plimpton) excitedly waits for her new boyfriend Jack (played by Kevin Anderson with tranquility on the surface, but a palpable undercurrent of menace just beneath the surface) in a coffee shop. The two have never met. That’s because he’s been in prison for an unspecified offense.

Hal Holbrook plays Sheriff Rogers, a small-town Oklahoma lawman, in charge of unraveling the whole thing. He knows Tom, and is sympathetic to whatever awful ordeal the boy’s endured, while at the same time realizing that a crime has probably been committed. But how to decipher the facts when your witness has gone mute?

The less I saw about the plot and its characters, the better. The way the film unfolds is captivating. This is an expertly crafted film. Nelson is patient and thorough in his story telling. The performances, too, are skillfully given. No character feels false or unnecessary.

See this movie. It exceeded by expectations in every way. Thank me later.

Lincoln Lawyer (2011)

Step into my office...

 Would you use an attorney who worked out of his car, even if he wore expensive suits, had a driver, and looked and talked like Matthew McConaughey?

In “The Lincoln Lawyer,” McConaughey plays Mick Haller, a slick L.A. attorney, whose many cases take him from one courthouse and jail to the next, all over town. Thus, his Town Car is his office (hence “Lincoln” lawyer; get it?).

While visiting a client in lock-up, Haller receives a tip from a bail=bondsman friend that a rich kid named Louis Roulet (Ryan Phillippe, alternately seething with menace, and pleading his innocence) has just been arrested for violently assaulting a pretty, young women in her apartment. The kid vehemently denies the charges, and wants his day in court. Quickly Haller recognizes the opportunity for a lucrative pay day.

The guts of the film are mostly boiler plate: We get courtroom dealings in the middle, with attorneys bandying possible pleas and outcomes, stuff we’ve seen a million times, in a million other films. Haller works his legal magic, trying to arrange the best possible deal for his client, all while struggling with doubt that perhaps Roulet is actually guilty. His fears escalate when he realizes evidence from an earlier murder case he settled eerily resembles the current one. Perhaps in hindsight, he sold his earlier client up the river too quickly?

Marissa Tomei is on hand as Maggie McPherson (sounds like a comic-book heroine), a fellow attorney, and Haller’s ex-wife. The two have a daughter, as well as lingering feelings for each other. When he gets drunk in bars, she’s conveniently his ride home (or back to her place). She wants him to be more responsible and straighten his life out, as understanding and forgiving ex-wives in movies are often wont to do.

William H. Macy, Josh Lucas, Michael Pena and John Leguizamo also make appearances, as a private investigator, prosecuting attorney, the incarcerated former client, and bail bondsman, respectively. “Breaking Bad’s” Bryan Cranston, as well as “Boardwalk Empire’s” Shea Whigham are pop up in minor roles, as does country singer Trace Adkins. The cast is estimable, perhaps beyond the story they inhabit.

As Haller, McConaughey is, as usual, very good. He’s believable as the fast-talking, deal-making, always-look-out-for-#1 counselor. McConaughey’s a pro, as comfortable, deft and nimble onscreen as the lawyer he plays is in the courtroom.

Alas, Phillippe’s accused Roulet (“Roulette?”), doesn’t fare as well. His performance is smug, over-the-top, and shows little subtlety or shading. Which in some ways might have been OK, since his character isn’t supposed to be likeable. Still, the film would’ve been more interesting had he seemed at least somewhat capable of displaying the entire range of human emotions, rather than simply malice, entitlement, and rage. We don’t like him, even if he’s not guilty. Roulet doesn’t seem three dimensional, possessing little more in the way of expression than avarice, selfishness, narcissism and a perpetual sneer. There’s little redeeming and “real” about him. He’s the stock “bad guy,” straight from Central Casting.

Much more than I’ve described happens in “Lincoln Lawyer;” I’ve left out many details, and indeed entire characters. But I think you get the gist. This is the kind of movie where, by about half way through, I was pretty sure I knew where it was headed. All that was left was seeing which hoops it jumped through along the way, in order to get there. A few unexpected twists and turns are thrown in. However, most of those felt contrived (one, in particular), the result of an over-eager writer’s imagination. They feel less rational and more necessary, steps that must be taken in order to get the plot its inevitable, tidy conclusion.

“Lincoln Lawyer” isn’t bad; it held my attention for its entire 118 minutes. Problem is, it didn’t make much of a lasting impression, either; I haven’t thought of it since. Even reflecting while writing this review, I wondered “exactly what happened, again?” It’s a lesser version of the type of John Grisham legal-suspense/dramas Hollywood used to churn out by the truckloads, about 20 or so years back (“The Firm” “Runaway Jury,” “A Time to Kill,” “Pelican Brief,” etc…) If you have a couple of hours to kill, you could certainly do worse. But you could do better, too.

The World’s End (2013)

Down the Hatch

Can estranged friends go home again? And if they do, what will they find? These are just a couple questions raised by Edgar Wright’s latest film “The World’s End,” a terrifically warm and vibrant comedy, starring Simon Pegg and Nick Frost.

“World’s End” is essentially a reunion story about five former high school chums (chums!): the strapping, confident and headstrong corporate attorney Andy (Nick Frost), smarmy, buttoned-down and constantly-on-his-bluetooth real-estate broker Oliver “O Man” (“The Hobbit’s” Martin Freeman; so nicknamed because of a ring-shaped birthmark on his forehead), the earnest and honest land developer Steven (Paddy Considine), and mild and meek (yet terribly sweet) car salesman Peter (Eddie Marsan), They return to their hometown to attempt a legendary pub crawl “the Golden Mile,” only to find the place isn’t exactly as they remember. Along their beer-soaked journey long-simmering grudges are unearthed, friendships strengthened,  mysteries uncovered, souls bared and endless pints emptied. Also gallons of blue blood are spilled.

Pegg plays the motor-mouth, self-aggrandizing Gary King. The ersatz leader of the group, King never grew up. The crawl’s his idea, as a way to recapture the glory of youth. It means a little more to him than it should. Frost’s “Andy” (like the rest of the group) has moved on to adult life, acquiring a family and productive career in the process. Compared to other Frost characters, Andy is relatively quiet and understated, though loyal as a dog.

Each member Gary pitches is initially reluctant (questioning how he possibly managed to convince Andy, after some vague “accident” the two survived long ago), but of course ultimately decides to play along (if for no other reason that to humor the overly-enthusiastic Gary). They recognize how much the adventure means to him and acquiesce, some simply because they haven’t the energy to resist Gary’s pleas.

Roughly 20 years removed from their heyday, the group returns to find the town much as they left it (on the outside, anyway): the pubs are still right where they were, with the very same barkeeps pulling draughts. Career alcoholics hold down identical barstools from decades earlier. But something’s not quite right. Old friends and acquaintances are either too friendly, not friendly enough, or don’t recognize them at all.

No matter. Gary is singly focused on completing the task at hand. The night is young (even if the group’s members aren’t), and there are too pints to swill before the journey’s done.

Where the movie goes as the group pursues its adventure, I won’t spoil. But you haven’t seen this before. It could’ve been a clichéd retread, but it’s not. The story is fresh, clever and alive. We can sense the actors and film makers had a genuinely good time making this movie; It shows in the final product. The group has an “all-for-one” ethos (the 3 Musketeers is referenced more than once), which is winning.

Similar to Wright’s other films, several underlying themes are thrown in amongst the one-liners and raucous action sequences: Love-in-a-time-of-chaos is one of them, via Gary and Steven’s long-unsettled rivalry over O-Man’s pretty sister Sam (Rosamund Pike). The film also weighs in on conformity, maturity, homogenization, the burdens of friendship, camaraderie, gentrification, nostalgia, aging, change, rebellion and the promise of a future unfulfilled. Some of it is serious stuff, but it’s balanced out well with action. And PLENTY of comedy. It’s an interesting mix, where one minute friends express honest emotions in poignant scenes, the next containing sequences of outlandish action. Yet it all works, because “End” is mostly unconcerned with larger world, but focused simply on what’s happening to this group, in this place, at this particular time.

Like the other Wright films, “World’s End” something lurks ominously just beneath the small village’s seemingly tranquil surface. The film places a small band of alienated outsiders against a larger, overwhelming horde. It also makes several self-referential jokes, which will be obvious to those who have seen Wright’s earlier movies. The progress of their crawl is measured by the pubs Gary’s crosses off his list. It’s an interesting timer/measure of their progress, propelling the film forward.

An energetic performance by Pegg, as well as a more thoughtful, nuanced one by Frost, give the film charm and depth. It’s endless quick cuts, “whooshing” sound effects, elaborate and well-choreographed fight scenes, and mini-montages create a frenetic pace, that’s endlessly entertaining. If you’re a fan of Wright’s earlier “Shaun of the Dead,” “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World,” “and “Hot Fuzz”, you won’t be disappointed here (though “World’s End” has more heart and tenderness than those earlier efforts).

Along with “Shaun” and “Hot Fuzz,” “The World’s End” is the third in Wright’s “Cornetto trilogy.” Like those earlier films, this one, too, is a rollicking good time.

The French Connection (1971)

Back when men were men, hats were flat, and cars painted egg cream.

Everything about this movie feels like the 70s.

In “The French Connection,” Gene Hackman plays Popeye Doyle, a hard-nosed NYC cop, who sees the ends of arresting scumbag criminals as justifying his violent, hardly-legal means. His is an archetypal cop character, one we’ve seen countless times, in countless other films. Doyle sees the world in terms of black-and-white, good guys and bad guys. White people, and everyone else. He prefers to see himself as the former, even when he’s clearly sometimes the latter; he has no hesitation spouting racist slurs while rousting a barroom full of middle-class blacks (this film exists in a time before “African American” came into vogue).

Through dumb luck, he and his partner ("Jaws" hero Roy Scheider) stumble upon a potentially big heroin deal. A wealthy Frenchman (Fernando Rey) intends to supply the product, unless Doyle can bring the entire operation down first.

The film was directed by William Friedkin, whose next film would be the hugely influential “The Exorcist.”

Perhaps I saw this 30 years too late, but the story here feels like a pretty much by-the-book heist picture. Crooks try to sneak drugs past the cops, and avoid getting caught. Cops try desperately to track them down, at all costs. Chase scenes and shoot-outs. It all feels like well-worn territory.

At one point there’s an overly long scene, where the drugs are tested for purity. Maybe this felt cutting edge and interesting in the early 70s. To me, in 2013, it felt like it took an eternity for not much in the way of payoff. Likewise, the film devotes a large chunk of screen time to police mechanics tearing apart an old car, searching for drugs hidden in its body. The infinite crevices in which drugs might be hidden are kinda interesting, but the scene itself takes forever to unfold.

What I did like about the movie, however, was how it captured what an ex-girlfriend called “the dirty, pimpy New York of the 70s.” Before Giuliani’s Times Square clean-up. Where “nightclubs” featured live entertainment, tables all had candles in cheap, red glass holders, lapels were huge, men enjoyed hi-balls or on-the-rocks drinks, and women thought blue eye shadow, teased hair, and impossibly long nails looked good. Litter was every place. The film looks as gritty as its characters. Think the early NYC of Scorsese’s “Mean Streets” and “Taxi Driver.” Scenes of Doyle and his criminal targets on Manhattan’s streets show just how much that city has changed over the last 40 years. Cars, clothes, haircuts and shops all looks unbelievably different. The car-destruction scene wasn’t as interesting as the body shop in which it takes place. That greasy dump has atmosphere!

There’s a famous car chase in “French Connection,” where Doyle screams through crowded, narrow streets, while his “Frog” perp tries to escape on the elevated subway. It’s well filmed and tense, with Doyle racing through traffic and pedestrians, smashing into parked cars and trash cans, in hot pursuit.

Hackman (as well as his iconic hat) is as reliable as ever. Mid-way through, the movie seems headed toward its inevitable conclusion with reckless momentum. Supposedly it’s based on actual events.

“The French Connection” sounds like one of those important movies you’re supposed to see. The film was OK, but not as memorable as I’d hoped. Maybe it used to be? Perhaps it’s just that, by now I’ve simply seen way too many other crime films set in New York? If I’d never seen “The Godfather,” but instead “Goodfellas” first, would the former still hold up, or instead lose something by comparison?

I prefer the setting of "the French Connection" to its story. The era had more personality.