Interview

Steve Buscemi is one of the best actors around. Think about it, I mean the guy is weird lookin’ (I dunno, just weird lookin’). He has an odd sounding voice and is instantly recognizable, and still he has yet to be typecast as the weird looking, odd sounding, very familiar, guy. With each role, he brings his quirky antics along with a strong dose of some serious acting. He uses his aesthetic flaws to build each of his characters and make them, usually, unforgettable. Who can’t remember his comically brilliant arguing in Reservoir Dogs? His casual psycho in Con Air? His constant degrading in The Big Lebowski? His creepily eerie turn in The Sopranos? And so on.

On occasion, Buscemi directs as well. His latest feat, Interview, is an enchanting wonder of a film, laced with his oddball sense of humor. Buscemi is Pierre, a political journalist who has been assigned, for reasons he cannot figure out, to do a personality profile on the “it” actress, Katya. Pierre is pissed. He would rather been in D.C. covering the latest shitstorm that has erupted there. But no, instead he is stuck in a trendy part of New York, waiting for the one-named, no talent “actress” to waltz into the restaurant where they are meeting.

She shows up (finally) and it’s all down hill from there. Katya is offended that Pierre knows nothing about her. He’s never seen one of her films and he doesn’t pick up the tabloids much. The dinner interview only lasts a couple minutes, after a few harsh words are thrown back and fourth.

Instead of wasting time on plot, I’ll just say that Pierre ends up at Katya’s nearby loft where the remainder of the film is spent. From then on, Buscemi does an incredible job of stripping away layer after protective layer that each of the characters has developed over the years. He keeps revealing more and more with each addictive scene.

Pierre asks Katya inane questions, she playfully dismisses them. They drink (a lot), she smokes (a lot), some coke is dabbled with, words fly, tempers swell, they dance, they laugh, they cry and it’s all delightful.

Think Sienna Miller can’t act? Joke’s on you. What Buscemi has done is cast an actress who is represented, in reality, the same way Katya is. Miller, best known for being cheated on by Jude Law, is a good actress. Such has been the case in films like Layer Cake and Factory Girl, but it is here that her breakout will be forever remembered. Miller embodies Katya to the fullest extent. After showing Pierre the different ways to cry for the camera, you’ll completely believe Miller when she later breaks down in a brutal confession. Her raw performance is one of the best by an actress this year.

Interview is a great film to listen to. The conversations are wonderfully scripted by Buscemi, who affirms his capability of writing and directing. I could never tell the most revealing revelations, which Buscemi saves for the end, but I will say that I was genuinely shocked and completely transfixed. A

The Kingdom

Stylish actor-turned-director Peter Berg wants to make a compelling film. He wants to surprise, stun, shock and elaborate on the nature of two vastly different cultures. Instead, Berg gives us just another action-packed, rock‘em sock‘em, American WHOO-RAH of a film. Where four of us can take on 50 plus, gun-toting, masked bad guys and come out with a few scratches, maybe a band-aid on the neck.

Things get ugly pretty quick in Saudi Arabia (the Kingdom) when a compound housing American-oil employees and their families, are sprayed down with bullets during a friendly baseball game. Cars get wrecked and bombs go off as an unseen villain videotapes the whole event from a hotel room, forcing his young grandson to watch.

Against state department orders, four of the FBI’s most elite personnel manage to get access to the Kingdom for five days. Ronald Fleury (a solid Jamie Foxx) is put in charge of the quickie mission. Along with him are a bomb expert (Chris Cooper, having a little fun), an intelligence analyst (Jason Bateman, who successfully manages to bring his effortless comedic timing to this serious role) and a forensics expert (a powerful Jennifer Garner). No 13 Going on 30 here, Garner, in her best screen role to date, is 100 percent badass. And she wants you to know it, if not by her constant cursing, then by an awesome, balls-out rescue scene.

Another mention in the acting needs to go to Ashraf Barhom, who plays a Saudi police chief, put in charge of the American’s safety. Barhom is a marvel to watch, his face taunt with confusion and turmoil. Look out for him, he will surely become a star.

But even with an impressive cast, Berg can’t seem to find a concrete point. The third act has enough action to keep young boys happy. A dizzying car crash, a holdup in an unsafe part of town and some great standoffs in an apartment complex all achieve grade-A thrills. Berg does have some fun with the script (look for his own brief cameo in an FBI briefing scene); his actors throw out constant one-liners and Foxx gets to give a shot-out to his hometown, Terrell, Texas. But I was longing for a purpose, something more. Much of the film is wasted, channeling 9/11, slain journalist Daniel Pearl, CSI and hell, even some Entourage (gray hair and glasses can’t help Jeremy Piven shake Ari Gold).

Berg is a good director. He has his own vision which did wonders for his Friday Night Lights. He uses the same shaky camera work from Lights and it works well here. But that nice, Texan twang that played through Lights, the subtle, comforting, fitting music, is a curse in this picture. Berg uses that exact same score for The Kingdom, in very awkward moments. Instead of feeling sad or remorseful as Berg intends, the music only made me feel inspired and uplifted, like it did in Lights.

Through its flaws, The Kingdom remains a firm piece of entertainment. It can be a little heavy and it relies too much on the convenience of Hollywood. But Berg is trying to assert the claim that Americans have their own definition of what is right and so do the other guys. The final line of the film is a little too cheesy, but it’s the best Berg can do to sum up his point. I could save you the two hours and reveal it, but don’t worry, I’ll never tell. B-

Eastern Promises

Before David Cronenberg’s pulse-pounding, wicked little masterpiece began, the audience was given a few trailers to dissect. One of which was Ang Lee’s new, already-controversial, NC-17 rated, Lust, Caution. When the smooth, enticing preview was over, an older gentleman sitting in front of me said, to the older woman he was with, “Wow, what a bad title for a movie, no one is going to see that.” Having just won top honors at the Venice Film Festival, I smiled at the fact that he couldn’t be more wrong. But hey, how can I blame him? He probably only goes to a few movies a year, saw the advertisements for Eastern Promises and said, “Oh, that’s the guy from those Lord of the Rings movies, I liked those.”

As the trailer for Promises promises, a plethora of fighting, killing, blood, sweat and tears will be presented to you. Not the case. What iconic director Cronenberg has crafted is a controlled movie with explosive elements. It’s filled with excellent storytelling, witty dialogue, gripping acting and yes, a few beautiful bursts of Cronenberg-ian violence.

After a young woman collapses in a London drug store, she is brought to the emergency room where she dies giving birth to a girl. Anna, a midwife taking care of her, finds the girl’s diary and through her Russian uncle, begins to have it translated. Her cranky uncle will only go so far, declaring that the secrets of the dead should stay buried. Determined to get answers, Anna is led to a Russian restaurant. Once she is invited in, her whole world is spun.

Anna asks Semyon (Armin Mueller-Stahl), the owner of the restaurant, to translate the diary for her. But soon, she is in way over her head. Semyon is the head of the Vory V Zakone family, a sect of the Russian mob. Anna is soon introduced to Seymon’s depraved son Kirill (Vincent Cassel) and his loyal bodyguard Nikolai (Viggo Mortensen). The film is off and running as Anna discovers that the dead girl was part of a sex trafficking ring run by Semyon and she fears for her life of her family and the life of the still-unclaimed baby in her ward.

As he did with his brillant History of Violence, Cronenberg creates a story about seemingly average people put to extreme circumstances. He isn’t trying to post a vast narrative on the birth of the Russian mob, or Nikolai’s upbringing through brutal, Russian prisons, acquiring dozens of tattoos that tell his life story. No flashbacks here. Cronenberg simply starts a story where he feels necessary, in this case with the birth of a child, and ends it when he feels appropriate.

Much like Violence, the gruesome scenes in Promises are presented in a realistic manner. No slow motion, domineering musical score, or heavy amounts of blood. Cronenberg is interested in the real ways that the Vory dispose of a body, with no fingers in tact. If that’s how it’s done, then that’s how it’s going to be shown. Cronenberg uses his violence as a tool. He gives you just enough to keep you an edge.

Violence contained the best screen acting performances of 2005. Mortensen, Maria Bello and a devilishly wonderfully William Hurt, all gave their career bests. Promises maintains that same trait. Cronenberg is an actor’s director, he gives them the freedom to explore these dark, complicated characters, while keeping them reserved.

Mortensen, in a raw, courageous performance, excels past his Tom Stall from Violence. He gives the violent Nikolai a heart. His firm posture, jet-black hair, thin cheekbones and smooth mannerisms are completely believable. You’ll think Mortensen actually speaks Russian. Try to listen for a slip-up in his flawless accent, you won’t catch one.

In her best performance since 21 Grams, the always engrossing Watts is riveting. As a woman battling her own regrets and misfortunes Watts’ face is often wonderfully dwelled with fear. But she remains strong willed and exquisitely bold while going toe to toe with some remarkably evil people.

You may remember Cassel from Ocean’s 12 as the smartass, sneaky Frenchman. As Kirill, Cassel is a revelation. He dives deep into a haunted young man, longing to be accepted by his father, Kirill is filled with jealousy and rage. Those are daddy’s eyes in there, rooted with deep seeds of evil.

A supporting actor nominee for Shine, expect Mueller-Stahl to snag another nomination as the alluringly horrific Seymon. When he opens his restaurant door for Anna, the first time we see his face I was instantly reminded of Nicholson in A Few Good Men. Right away, you fear him. He hasn’t spoken a word, but you know that this guy is dangerous.

I usually find that sex scenes distract from a film’s plot, but Cronenberg’s sex scenes are almost always essential. As he did with Violence and the potently erotic Crash, Cronenberg uses sex as character development. You won’t fully know two of the character until one of them makes the other have sex with a drugged up young girl.

The naked fighting scene has already become “the scene” of the season. Like the do-or-die standoffs in Violence, this fight forces Nikolai to use the methods that got him through prison, fighting with what you can, innocent bystanders included and never assuming someone is down for good. Female admirers of Mortensen’s will flock to rent the DVD to catch an All the Right Moves-perfect-pause-moment of his… livelihood.

Eastern Promises is a wonderfully paced, subtle film. There is a great little surprise in here somewhere. Don’t worry, I’ll never tell. Just listen. Listen to the clever words and your jaw will drop. People looking for a Russian Departed should head elsewhere, what you’re going to get is a unique story with heavy, reliable acting and an occasional slit throat… or two.

Leaving the theatre a young man walking behind me said, talking into his cell phone, “Hey man, you wanna know what movie NOT to see? Eastern Promises. Totally lame.” Having just won top honors at the Toronto Film Festival, I smiled at the fact that he couldn’t be more wrong. But hey, how can I blame him? He probably only goes to a few movies a year, saw the advertisements for Eastern Promises and said, “Oh, that’s the guy from those Lord of the Rings movies, I liked those.” A

In the Valley of Elah

In one of the final scenes of Paul Haggis’ new, breathtaking film, In the Valley of Elah, Tommy Lee Jones talks with a kid fresh home from Iraq. If you watched the scene by itself, as an award clip for example, it would resonate. But after two hours of remarkable drama, the scene will collapse in your heart. It will stay in your mind, days after you leave the theatre.

The movie is filled with conversations just like this one. You will marvel at each interaction that the characters allow themselves to share.

Hank Deerfield, a retired military police officer, learns that his son is home from his tour in Iraq, but has since gone missing. Without hesitation, Hank sets out for a cross country trip to his son’s military base. A drive that will take two days his wife tells him, “Yeah, for some people,” Hank insists.

Soon after Hank arrives in town, the chopped up remains of a charred body are discovered, which inevitably belong to Hank’s beloved son. There is a question of whether jurisdiction belongs to the military or the police. At any rate, Hank believably manages to be included in both cases. With his razor-sharp instinct intact along with several retrieved videos taken by his son in Iraq, Hank begins to realize the terror and torture that his boy lived through.

Crash, my favorite film of 2005, was Haggis’ last directorial effort. It earned him a couple Oscars and a whole lot of berating. People dismissed that film as too preachy, too much too quick, an overly-sentimental mess. With In the Valley of Elah, Haggis couldn’t have gone in a better, more diverse direction. The scenes are slow-paced and long-winded; the look is authentic and dirty, due to the brilliant Roger Deakins’ stunning cinematography. The man can give you a remarkably unsettling feeling the way he lights a room or imposes the shadow of a soldier in a doorway. The cold, isolated roads in the film are reminiscent of the endless, snow-covered lands that he shot for Fargo.

You won’t hear any overbearingly distracting score from Mark Isham, a wise decision based on similar, didactic moments in Crash.

It’s hard to call the performances in this film acting. Mostly stripped of makeup, the actors are exposed in a variety of ways. Jones, in the best performance of a long, subtly brilliant career, is beyond praise. With little words, Jones can express everything he is thinking from his weathered, tense face. His low, gravel voice will quickly get your attention in anticipation for what he may say next. As a polite, ex-military man, Hank wouldn’t dare speak to a woman while he is wearing just an undershirt, even if his white, button down shirt is not fully dry, he has to have the damp shirt on before a conversation can take place.

Equally as good in this film as her Oscar winning role four years ago in Monster, Charlize Theron gives an astounding, restrained performance. As a small town detective who deals with daily bullshit from co-workers, she manages to remain a caring mother to her young son, given the lack of respect she receives at her job. Haggis gives her character something extra here, that at first does not feel needed, but watch her eyes as she sits, kneeled down next to a bathtub, her face guilty yet relieved.

Susan Sarandon, as Hank’s wife, has little yet memorable screen time, mostly over the phone with Jones. Haggis writes their conversations with an aged demeanor: she knows she married a military man and this is how they have lived for years and certainly years to come.

After such a widely unique ensemble in Crash, it’s no surprise that fine actors like Jason Patric, Josh Brolin and James Franco show up for wonderfully controlled supporting turns.

People who call this film an anti-Iraq movie aren’t getting the picture. It isn’t anti anything, it is real and honest and shows the true horrors that war can inflict on a human being, long after they have come home. Think of the war movies you have seen. Most of them, including several great ones, rarely show the horrific aspect of coming home. When the changes of war inflict gruesome nightmares that eliminate the safety a soldier should be feeling. A near-end confessional scene grasps this concept shockingly, it is truly haunting and will leave you speechless.

What does the title refer to? I’ll never tell, but the way in which it is delivered encompasses Jones’ Oscar caliber performance. Give credit to Haggis, for directing his actors so passionately and for crafting a quiet, bold and beautiful film. War stays with you and so will this movie. A