DVD Review: Source Code

Director Duncan Jones’ second film is another intelligent, eloquent science fiction thriller.

Sincere without growing mawkish, intelligent without becoming geeky or pretentious, Duncan Jones’ Source Code justifies the promise the director showed with his similarly ambitious science fiction mindbender Moon. Like that debut effort, Jones’ second film reveals a warm and compassionate concern not just for the workings of the science fiction elements of story but also for the human emotions spun out of their wake, and the emphasis – especially in the last half-hour – is on character development and interaction.

Army captain Colter Stevens (Jake Gyllenhaal) is the covert operative for Project: Beleaguered Castle, an Air Force counter-terrorism group that can project his consciousness into the “after-image” of recent temporal events and allow him to occupy a host body of comparable age, height, and size. It’s complicated science, though explained via simplified metaphor by the project’s direct Dr. Rutledge (Jeffrey Wright.) Source Code technology is not exactly time travel, and not entirely jumping between parallel worlds, but Stevens’ jaunts into the remnants of immediately recent events allow the project to gather intelligence about upcoming terrorist attacks.

His current mission involves finding the bomb secreted aboard a Chicago-bound commuter train before those responsible detonate a dirty bomb within the city itself. But increasing disorientation hampers Steven’s effectiveness, even as he’s increasingly distracted by Christina, the woman (Michelle Monaghan) accompanying his host body into the city. Stevens tries, tries again to locate the bomb and the passenger he believes may set it off. But each failure – he has only eight minutes to complete his mission – results in the train’s explosive destruction and a painful jolt back to the project’s headquarters.

Worse, he suspects the doctor as well as Goodwin, his mission control operator (Vera Farmiga) are less than candid with the information they provide him, both about his role in the project as well as the events surrounding his recruitment into it. Stevens remembers serving as a helicopter pilot in Afghanistan but nothing of the last two months, and Goodwin’s evasion of questions, as well as Rutledge’s condescension, make him even less trusting.

The second act centers on Stevens’ abortive attempts to apprehend the bomber and disarm the bomb, even while he draws closer to the girl. Stevens also reasons he can use his time on the train to research the project itself and his service in Kandahar, the better to fill in the blanks of his memory. Each return trip home – he fails many times, often in ways that ought to evoke pity from the audience – reveals his mission capsule in greater disrepair. Pressing Goodwin for more information, he learns he may not be in the capsule at all but that his physical body may reside somewhere else entirely.

But he eventually prevails, locating the bomber and confronting him – once disastrously, the second time with success. With a train full of suspects, Ben Ripley’s script has fun manipulating audience expectations regarding the bomber’s identity: the nature of his evil more closely resemble homegrown anarchist Timothy McVeigh than 21st Century notions of Islamic extremism. The remainder of the film focuses on the nature of the bottle reality itself, whether Stevens can escape his real-world fate, and whether he can mend his relationship with his estranged father and jumpstart a romance with Christina. The willingness to devote so much time to events and details outside the ostensible main plot thread is a curious structural decision, but thanks to Ripley and Jones’ expert handling the film never once sags in suspense or pace.

We’ve said this before. It bears repeating: pretty.

The actors are perfectly if sometimes predictably cast. Gyllenhaal is a talented and versatile actor who’s still yet to find his niche with audiences, but here the action chops that went largely unnoticed in last year’s Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time (coincidentally, another adventure driven by short-distance time travel) get better use in the heightened tension of the railway plot. Still, he fares better in the character-driven scenes, especially with Farmiga and the actor playing his father (the actor’s identity is too much of a treat, and concession, to long-time sci-fi fans to divulge). As the sweet, beguiling Christina, Monaghan plays to the type she’s already performed in a half-dozen films. She’s a lovely and talented actress, but the role does little to showcase the range she’s demonstrated elsewhere.

Wright is spot-on as the pompous doctor who sees Stevens as nothing more than a resource, and Farmiga’s character arc – efficient to humane – may make her the film’s most fully development personality. Whereas Moon was centered – and carried – by the formidable acting talents of Sam Rockwell, the larger script gives Jones time and space to explore more complicated character interactions. Like Moon, the protagonist is separated by space and technology from the answers he needs; the answers this time rely less on shock value and more on character sympathy.

As with probably any great science fiction film, enjoyment relies somewhat on your willing suspension of disbelief, in giving the film license to let a hole slip into the plot when perhaps you’re less likely to notice. But in the meantime it offers the best kind of not just science fiction but fiction itself – rooted in humanity and letting emotions rather than spectacle guide its way. Source Code brings that all together while still maintaining its action-charged momentum – it’s a lot more movie than it seems.

- Michael Kabel

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

Review: Source Code

Director Duncan Jones’ second film is another intelligent, eloquent science fiction thriller.

Articulate and emotional without ever growing maudlin, intelligent without seeming geeky or pretentious, Duncan Jones’ Source Code justifies the promise the director showed with his similarly ambitious science  fiction mindbender Moon. Like that debut effort, Jones’ second film reveals a warm and compassionate concern not just for the workings of the science fiction elements of story but also for the human emotions spun out of their wake. The high energy marketing campaign focuses on the film’s time travel and exploding train aspects, but don’t be fooled: Jones and his cast and crew have created a film as much about loss and its aftermath as much as bombast and adventure, and the emphasis – especially in the last half-hour – is on character development and interaction.

Army captain Colter Stevens (Jake Gyllenhaal) is the covert operative for Project: Beleaguered Castle, an Air Force counter-terrorism group that can project his consciousness into the after-image of recent temporal events and allow him to occupy a host body of comparable age, height, and size. It’s complicated science, complex enough to stretch suspension of disbelief by force alone, though explained via simplified metaphor by the project’s direct Dr. Rutledge (Jeffrey Wright.) Source Code technology is not exactly time travel, and not entirely jumping between parallel worlds, but Stevens’ jaunts into the afterimage of immediately recent events allow the project to gather intelligence about upcoming terrorist attacks.

In particular, his current mission involves finding the bomb secreted aboard a Chicago-bound commuter train before those responsible detonate a dirty bomb within the city itself. But increasing disorientation hampers Steven’s effectiveness, even as he’s increasingly distracted by Christina, the woman (Michelle Monaghan) accompanying his host body into the city. Stevens tries, tries again to locate the bomb and the passenger he believes may set it off. But each failure – he has only eight minutes to complete his mission – results in the train’s explosive destruction and a painful jolt back to the project’s headquarters.

Worse, Stevens suspects the doctor as well as Goodwin, his mission control operator (Vera Farmiga) are less than candid with the information they provide him, both about his role in the project as well as the events surrounding his recruitment into it. Stevens remembers serving as a helicopter pilot in Afghanistan but nothing of the last two months, and Goodwin’s evasion of questions, as well as Rutledge’s condescension, make him even less trusting.

The film’s second act centers on Stevens’  abortive attempts to apprehend the bomber and disarm the bomb, even while he draws closer to the girl. Stevens also reasons he can use his time on the train to research the project itself and his service in Kandahar, the better to fill in the blanks of his memory. Each return trip home – Stevens fails his mission many times, often in ways that will probably evoke pity from the audience – reveals his mission capsule in greater disrepair. Pressing Goodwin for more information, Stevens learns he may not be in the capsule at all but that his physical body may reside somewhere else entirely.

But he eventually prevails, locating the bomber and confronting him – once disastrously, the second time with success. With a train full of suspects, Ben Ripley’s script has fun manipulating audience expectations regarding the bomber’s identity: the nature of his evil more closely resemble homegrown anarchist Timothy McVeigh than 21st Century notions of Islamic extremism. The remainder of the film focuses on the nature of the bottle reality itself, whether Stevens can escape his real-world fate, and whether he can mend his relationship with his estranged father and jumpstart a romance with Christina. The willingness to devote so much time to events and details outside the ostensible main plot thread is a curious structural decision, but thanks to Ripley and Jones’ expert handling the film never once sags in suspense or pace.

We’ve said this before. It bears repeating: pretty.

The actors are perfectly if sometimes predictably cast. Gyllenhaal is a talented and versatile actor who’s still yet to find his niche with audiences, but here the action chops that went largely unnoticed in last summer’s Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time (coincidentally, another adventure driven by short-distance time travel) get better use in the heightened tension of the railway plot. Still, he fares better in the more character-driven scenes, especially with Farmiga and the actor playing his father (the actor’s identity is too much of a treat, and concession, to long-time sci-fi fans to divulge). Playing the sweet, beguiling Christina, Monaghan plays to the type she’s already performed in a half-dozen films. She’s a lovely and talented actress, but the role does little to showcase the range she’s demonstrated elsewhere.

Jones wisely casts two ringer character actors to play the heavier parts. Wright is spot-on as the pompous doctor who sees Stevens as nothing more than a resource, and Farmiga’s character arc - efficient to humane – may make her the film’s most fully development personality. Whereas Moon was centered – and carried – by the formidable acting talents of Sam Rockwell, the larger script gives Jones time and space to explore more complicated character interactions. Like Moon, the protagonist is separated by space and technology from the answers he needs; the answers this time rely less on shock value and more on character sympathy.

Like probably any great science fiction film, enjoyment relies somewhat on your willing suspension of disbelief, and in giving the film license to let a hole slip into the plot when perhaps you’re less likely to notice; those flaws will also likely emerge with repeated viewing. But in the meantime it offers the best kind of not just science fiction but fiction itself – rooted in humanity, letting emotions guide its way, and dedicated to continuing larger traditions while modifying them for new audiences. Source Code brings that all together while still maintaining its action-charged momentum. Don’t let the slam-bang advertisements fool you – the film is a lot more than it lets on.

- Michael Kabel

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

Preview: Cadillac Records

Chess Records gets the Hollywood treatment, for better or for worse.

Continuing the trend of 1950s and 60s music biogrpahies, this weekend’s Cadillac Records has the distinction of covering a time and place in music history that hasn’t gotten as much attention as it deserves. Though most modern music fans perhaps don’t realize it, Chicago and its Chess Records label made indelible contributions to the development of rock, pop and soul music that continues to the present day. The jury’s out whether this new film will prove worthy of its subject material, and God knows it’s got “VH1 Classics weekend movie” written all over it, but there’s enough talent in the cast to make it worth ticket-buying consideration.

Chess Records was the Chicago-based recording company that, in the 1950s, produced some of the best blues, soul, and R&B of its time, numbering such luminaries as Etta James, Muddy Waters, and Chuck Berry among its eclectic stable of artists. Founded in 1950 by Leonard and Phil Chess, the children of Polish immigrants, the label released such classics as James’ “At Last,” Waters’ “I’m A Man,” and dozens of hits by Howlin’ Wolf, John Lee Hooker, Bo Diddley, and many others. Their work inspired a generation of rock musicians – particularly in Britain, as the film (and its trailer below) succinctly point out.

Hoochie coochie man: Wright as Waters

Written and directed by frequent television director Darnell Martin, teh film features Adrian Brody as Leonard Chess, Beyonce Knowles as James, Jeffrey Wright as Waters, and Mos Def as Chuck Berry. That’s a good ensemble cast for a work whose early reviews have been less than promising. Given such rich story material, it wil be a shame if it’s in fact as routine as those reviews have claimed. And there are causes for hesitation even among the cast. The Pianist notwithstanding, we’re not convinced Brody has ever really lived up to the potential he showed in early work in The Thin Red Line  and Summer of Sam, and we’re unsure Knowles can actually, you know, act. We’re also less excited about having the film’s stars (yes, especially Bee-Yonce) perform their own cover versions of their characters’ hits. Such a conceit has the air of hubris at best, and of cynical soundtrack marketing possibilities at worst.

In the film’s defense, Wright is biologically incapable of giving a bad performance, and Def is almost always fun to watch for his inspired screen energy. There’s also reportedly another, far more indie Chess Records film, entitled Who Do You Love, that might do the subject matter justice if Cadillac Records does indeed disappoint. Still and all, we’ll probably check it out anyway if only to encourage the market for films based on 60s record labels. We want to see the story of Memphis’ own STAX Records (Dijimon Hounsou as Isaac Hayes, anybody?) put up on the screen in the worst kind of way.

- Michael Kabel
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

Review: W.

Oliver Stone’s biopic can’t manage to stay a course.

In our preview of Oliver Stone’s W. last week I talked a lot about how the director’s well-known political leanings might get in the way of establishing a keen satire of the George W. Bush administration. It’s with mixed emotions that I can say I misoverestimated. W. succeeds as a film only narrowly, its development continually hampered by shifting tones and an oft-sagging pace. Worse, in trying to determine which events of the president’s life to depict, Stone settles on what feels like a sampling of parts that never quite gel into a coherently articulated point, so that the film winds up more mix disc than album, more memory album than narrative.

W. begins, in what is probably intended as a symbolic prelude, with the young George’s (Josh Brolin) hazing into a Yale fraternity. Despite immersion in freezing water and severe intoxication, he’s able to remember an astounding number of his would-be frat brothers’ names. It’s a perfunctory scene, though it manages to establish Bush’s talent for winning over dubious audiences with great alacrity and charm.  When shortly thereafter his then-Congressman father (James Cromwell) is compelled to bail “Junior” out of a New Jersey prison, it sets in motion the film’s key narrative struggle between Bush’s freewheeling character and his barely-understood ache for his father’s approval. Stone uses that tug of war as a touchstone to show the passing of time, matching W’s misadventures in business and public office with the elder Bush’s political rise and fall.

Corridors of power: Bush (Brolin) leads his staff

The bulk of the rest of the film, also told in flashback and flash-forward structure, details the events leading up to the American invasion of Iraq. Bush works with but seems often content to take at face value the advice and research of Defense Scretary Donald Rumsfeld (Scott Glenn) and his Deputy Paul Wolfowitz (Dennis Boutsikaris), Vice President Dick Cheney (Richard Dreyfus), successive Secretaries of State Colin Powell and Condoleeza Rice (Jeffrey Wright and Thandie Newtwon), and CIA chief John Tenet (Bruce McGill). Bush plays the role of manager to their appraisals and ends each meeting with a coach-like “good meeting” followed by a moment of prayer. Always in the background, like a true-life Grima Wormtongue, lurks adviser Karl Rove (Toby Jones), dispensing advice with false humility and fawning praise.

Meet the parents: Burstyn, Cromwell

In the film (though no doubt the actual circumstances were more complicated) Bush finds religion following a cardiac arrest while jogging. He gives up his heavy drinking in favor of a purpose driven life under the guidance of Reverend Earle Hudd (Stacey Keach), a pastor Stone portrays in cherubic backlighting and affectionate soft-focus. Faith thereafter guides the cinematic Bush’s decisions, most notably his 1999 “call” to run for President; but darker drives compel him even more, especially the need for his father’s approval but also to compensate for the elder Bush’s 1991 decision to pull out of Iraq without deposing Saddam Hussein. Stone never offers a solution or theory explaining what effect two such diverse compulsions might have on the leader of the free world. In time – and at 131 minutes, the time is somehow long though not long enough – that lack of tension hollows out what might serve as the film’s center.  

"You're the girl for me": Brolin, Banks

If its performances weren’t so good, the film itself would be much less. Brolin inhabits Bush admirably, finding sympathy in his privileged life. Dreyfus’ Cheney is both arrogant and reptilian, while Cromwell brings perhaps undeserved stature to George H.W. Bush. Wright gives Powell a surprising vulnerability , whom Stanley Weiser’s script uses as the sole and diminishing voice of reason in the buildup to the Iraqi invasion. Unfortunately Thandie Newton’s turn as Rice is more impersonation than performance, and Jones (Notorious) seems to have not yet rinsed all the Truman Capote out of his acting technique. Elizabeth Banks isn’t given enough to do as First Lady Laura Bush, though she makes the most of her time in giving Laura the gravitas and affection that anchor her often-impulsive husband to Earth.

Water bored: Bush (Brolin) at Yale

“The absence of evidence,” Rumsfeld exclaims in a crucial scene, “is not evidence of absence.” Such wisdom ironically thumbnails the film’s fatal flaw. Stone leaves out much of what’s made Bush’s presidency now officially the least popular in seventy years, including among other self-destructing moments the Hurricane Katrina debacle and the infamous My Pet Goat photo op the morning of September 11. Why the film avoids such moments is left unclear. Would their inclusion impair the tightrope objectivity Stone seems determined to put forward? Obviously detailing all the events and calamities of Bush’s monumentally controversial administration would require a series of films. But the omission of 9/11 and Katrina comes across as careening around cornerstone events. By way of comparison, would a biography of Franklin Roosevelt omit Pearl Harbor, or the Great Depression? Could a biography of Lincoln ignore the Emancipation Proclamation?

Stone rose to the top tier of American directors in the 1980s following a trio of very good films (Salvador, Platoon, Wall Street) that were ferocious in their attempts to spur public discourse of historically significant events. His track record since has been spotty, though no less ambitious. Platoon, his best film, benefited from historical perspective, and maybe that distance is what’s missing here. Or maybe not. Though missing the heavy-handed pathos of 1995′s Nixon, W. stills fails to make a compelling case either for sympathy or damnation. Better films than this will likely be made of America’s least popular president. It’s probably just going to take a while for them to arrive.

-Michael Kabel
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

Miscellaneous Debris, September 2008 Edition

Random ideas and observations that maybe aren’t enough to support a full post.

This is probably our favorite picture.

There’s a lot going on in film and TV news right now, what with the fall season heating up and the big prestige Oscar-bait rollouts like Baz Luhrman’s Australia and Ron Howard’s Frost/Nixon just around the corner. In fact it’s too much to keep track of all at once, unless you really stick to the Intertubes’ news sites and of course the millions of bloggity blogs on the blogosphere. (What did we do before the advent of the blog? Discuss our opinions with friends?)

So here’s some stuff that’s been piling up in our inbox, things that maybe don’t have enough information or – more importantly – enough of our interest to merit a full posting. There’s no order of importance; we’re just offering opinions here, like all good bloggers.

Casting Depp-arture?: The Riddler

1. A bunch of rumors circulated last month that Johnny Depp was getting courted to play The Riddler if and when Warner Brothers stages a sequel to this summer’s made-more-money-than-Jesus The Dark Knight. As an alternative to Depp (who may have gotten ahead of his talent in that last Pirates sequel) we’d like to suggest someone else who can play both menacing and wacky flavors of crazy. He’s an underrated, underused veteran actor who’d bring a sense of coming full circle to two decades of Batman films. We nominate this guy as the perfect Riddler.

2. The Office season premiere was great last night (Is Holly the new Pam?), but what caught our eye in the commercial breaks was the ad for Zack and Miri Make A Porno, which almost doesn’t advertise that the film is written and directed by Kevin Smith. It’s got Seth Rogen’s and Elizabeth Banks’ faces in almost every frame, but no mention of Smith anywhere except the credits at spot’s end. Would MGM rather the public see Rogen and Banks and assume it’s a Judd Apatow production?

First lady, porn star: Banks

3. Speaking of Banks, she debuts a Texas accent as Laura Bush in the new, funnier trailer for Oliver Stone’s Dubya satire W.  On which, we should mention, it looks like the director did a heckuva job. Josh Brolin has Shrub’s mannerisms bolted down, and the film’s apparent bleak wit couldn’t reach theatres at a better time. The powerhouse cast includes James Cromwell, Ellen Burstyn, Jeffrey Wright, Toby Jones, Thandie Newtwon, Ioan Gruffudd, Scott Glenn, and Noah Wylie.

4. Why aren’t more film scholars and devotees excited about Blu-Ray? Both The Godfather and L.A. Confidential were released on the new format this week. So was Madagascar. Two steps forward, one step back.

5. October wouldn’t be the same without some low-budget horror, and Quarantine looks to be equal parts Cloverfield and The Blair Witch Project. Still, the preview’s image of the guy getting sniper-shot for trying to exit the infected building was a new twist that made us jump in our seats. (Yes, putting this item next to the Madagascar animals was intentional.)

6. Continuing his unstoppable rise to guru of the Hot Topic crowd, writer-director Guillermo Del Toro (Hellboy 2: The Golden Army) will release a trilogy of vampire novels written with crime novelist Chuck Hogan. The first chapter will arrive in stores next summer, no doubt accompanied by some kind of premium collector’s edition.

7. The reports saying the ratings for this past Monday’s season premiere of Heroes were down 23 percent over last year’s season opener are kind of missing the bigger picture. Shows like Heroes – and Lost, and Battlestar Galactica – can last forever with a reasonably-sized core audience that’s kept satisfied.

They... they wish they could swim, like the dolphins, like dolphins can swim: the cast of Heroes

Right now it’s the fomerly devoted fans that have to be wooed back, not the casually curious that were tuning in as was likely the case a year ago. With positive reviews steadily sweeping message boards and blogs, the show has a solid fresh start. Not for nothing, but we thought the first two episodes were pretty much exactly what they needed to be.

8. Is anyone else bothered by the new high-resolution imagery used in some current promotional images? Daniel Craig looks vaguely waxen in the new Quantum of Solace poster, and Blake Lively’s tempestuous mane comes across as brittle wire in the Gossip Girl image. For a show about rich teenagers jumping in and out of bed with one another, “lifeless” night not be the ideal connotation.

9. Finally, we’ll probably do a separate piece about the upcoming The Day The Earth Stood Still remake later on, but in the meantime we want to share the trailer now. Keanu Reeves notwithstanding, the ace cast includes Jennifer Connelly, Mad Men‘s Jon Hamm, Kathy Bates, John Cleese, and Battlestar Galactica’s Aaron Douglas. As fans of the original 1951 sci-fi masterpiece, we think Keanu would’ve made a wonderful Gort the Robot; unfortunately, he’s center stage as alien herald Klaatu.

We’ll be back Monday with a review of Eagle Eye. Or, if we wake up feeling hip tomorrow, a review of Choke. Have a better weekend than you normally do.

- Michael Kabel  

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::