Tyrranosoar (BRIT) Director Paddy Considine  Written by Paddy Considine  Starring Peter Mullan; Olivia Colman; Eddie Marsdan; Paul Poppelwell; Ned Dennehy; Samuel Bottomley; Sian Breckin

Arising out of a long history of British realism (what was once “kitchen sink” and has more recently been dubbed neo-realism or “miserabilist cinema” by some), actor Paddy Considine writes and directs this slice of life drama that is not for the squeamish. The brilliant Peter Mullan (My Name is Joe; Neds; Boy A; The Red Riding Trilogy) plays the anti-social, misanthropic, alcoholic Joseph, a man haunted by the past and still prone to fits of violent rage that hint at mental illness. Into his microscopic sphere comes Hannah (a superb Olivia Colman), the owner of a christian charity shop, who attempts to extend him some kindness. Joseph is initially put off by her talk of God, and her propensity for prayer, and being the animal he is almost immediately zeroes in on the weakness and hurt he senses in her. As time passes, however, their lives become intertwined in ways neither of them could have likely suspected. Eddie Marsdan (Happy-Go-Lucky; Vera Drake) provides sterling support as Hannah’s abhorrent husband James, giving the kind of brave performance not often seen in film anywhere. Considine employs a host of other actors unknown in this country, getting uniformly excellent, authentic feeling turns. The vision ultimately is a bleak one, and there is perhaps an overdose on the tragic factor, but there are so many things to like about the film that one can almost overlook the piling on. Mullan and Considine somehow manage to squeeze some humanity out of a mostly despicable sort, and refuse to let the character off the hook (the very title has to do with the man’s cruelty). It is this kind of fidelity to story and to the people populating it that makes one hope that Considine’s first feature is not his last. Erik Wilson (Submarine) gives the bleak surroundings a loving cinematic touch, and Colman is Mullan’s equal in the piece, which is no small statement.

Haywire (USA) Director Steven Soderbergh Writer Lem Dobbs Starring Gina Carano; Channing Tatum; Ewan McGregor; Michael Fassbender; Michael Douglas; Antonio Banderas; Mattieu Kassovitz; Michael Angarano; Bill Paxton

With The Girlfriend Experience, director/cinematogrpaher/editor Steven Soderbergh took a non-actor (porn star Sacha Grey) and used her as the lead in a story about a high end call-girl - here, he casts real life MMA fighter Gina Carano as Mallory Kane, a fighting/killing machine/action hero. Thankfully, Soderbergh has more success in regards to the performance of the attractive Carano than he did with the barely conscious Grey, though neither will likely be winning any acting awards in the near (or distant) future. Carano, however, displays enough life to plausibly embody the role, using her looks and physicality to play her version of Luc Besson’s/Anne Parillaud’s Nikita.

Soderbergh’s visuals are, as always, top-notch (he uses a 4k red camera), capturing scenes bathed in glowing primary colors; and his prowling shooting style utilizes long lensed shots, black and white photography, and some stylistic flourishes to mirror the surveillance involved in the spy/intelligence/special ops/contractor game. He covers the action with a fluid camera that follows Carano as she battles and flees and chases, probing as if trying to discover what will happen next. The electronic David Holmes (Out of Sight; Ocean Series) score is also recognizably Soderbergh-ian and is notable as much for the times when Soderbergh chooses not to employ it as it is for its pulsating nature.

Soderbergh is enamored with genre experimentation, and here he takes a simple idea - creating an action thriller with a global feel (ala The Bourne series; The International; The American; Munich; Ronin et al) and a woman as its lead, which of course another well-known franchise (The Dragon Tattoo trilogy) is already doing. The director, who a short time back, threatened to retire from film-making, is also riffing on his own oeuvre. Utilizing a basic formula demonstrated in Girlfriend; touching upon world politics or, at least, international intrigue, as in Contagion; Traffic; Michael Clayton; and Syriana (the latter two he produced); using fractured narrative as he has done with The Limey; Out Of Sight; The Ocean Films; and The Informant, he continues delving into new genre vistas while visually and structurally remaining in an identifiable stylistic realm. Ultimately, because Soderbergh doesn’t write his own scripts his body of work is all over the place in terms of voice - the most consistent aspect of his films past being an evolving, singular visual style and a reliance on the previously referenced editing technique.

The trouble here is not the concept itself, nor the tone - Soderbergh does well using cinematic subtly to hold back information and allow a thinking man’s thriller to unfold. He just doesn’t go far enough. While the script by Lem Dobbs is mostly free of the ghastly expository dialogue too often found in like minded films, the narrative structure (or at the very least one particular device) is purely kids stuff and flies directly in the face of the aforementioned restraint. To whit, the film begins with Kane appearing at a diner where she proceeds to meet Aaron (Channing Taum), a fellow special ops contractor and representative of her boss and former boyfriend Kenny (Ewan McGregor). The two argue about her going with him, they fight, and Kane winds up traveling with an unsuspecting diner patron, Scott (Michael Angarano), who helped her during the altercation.

All of this would be fine if the injured Kane didn’t then proceed to take the wheel and, during the ensuing drive, run down her recent jobs in Barcelona and Dublin (with accompanying flashbacks) with the illogical idea that this stranger/civilian is going to go to the authorities with her story. What makes matters worse than this more than obvious screenwriting device is the fact that Scott will eventually disappear and not be heard from again. Soderbergh is in love with this idea of shaking up the pieces and telling the story in a non-linear way, but here it seems completely unnecessary. If the aim was to subvert the genre and take all (or most) of the air out the tires than mission accomplished. Even for an action thriller though, the facts seem a bit too sketchy, and the story seems a bit too… inconsequential maybe (?) - perhaps in part because we never get to invest in Mallory Kane as a person. In any event, the reliance on the skewed time-line here feels like a cover for a lack of genuine suspense, and that’s a problem..

Make no mistake - Carano as former marine Kane is a female bad-ass, and her past real life fight experience definitely assists in making her hero character close to being believable. The problem is we see her battling a series of grown men, who are mostly also trained Martial artists and professionals like herself, who also deal in violence on a regular basis, and we are somehow to believe that this character, even at a hard-bodied hundred and forty pounds or so, could withstand repeated full contact blows from males outweighing her by 30, 40, 50 pounds or more? There is a reason why women do not fight men professionally, or even compete with them in contact sports, and those reasons apply here.

Still, the fights themselves aren’t bad and Soderbergh uses sound to great effect, though it should be said that several of these confrontations are over-choreographed and, in certain moments, just plain silly. One understands that it’s all a bit of a gag, but Soderbergh does so many things well here, creating a mostly understated action flick that is actually largely watchable that it’s a real shame to see him let go of the realism that dominates many other aspects of the film. It would have been more pleasurable to see Kane demonstrate her fighting abilities, but also a recognition that she couldn’t beat most trained men hand to hand and see her using other skills and methods to escape and/or defeat them. No such luck.

Bill Paxton plays Kane’s oddly passive father, and Michael Fassbender; Michael Douglas; and Antonio Banderas are mostly wasted in underwritten roles that seem to beg for more screen time. Haywire is not an uninteresting foray into a genre dominated by CGI laden, big budget Hollywood entries, and there is certainly no small degree of technical panache on display, but the uber talented Soderbergh perhaps should have taken more chances and diverted even further from convention. The messy time sequencing too is, at this point, tiresome.

A Dangerous Method (BRIT/CA/GE/SWITZ) Directed by David Cronenberg   Written by Christopher Hampton Starring Viggo Mortensen; Michael Fassbender; Keira Knightley; Vincent Cassel; Sarah Gadon

Sixty nine year old David Cronenberg re-teams with fifty three year old frequent collaborator Viggo Mortensen (who replaced Christoph Waltz) as Austrian Sigmund Freud, in this story of Freud’s friendship with the Swiss Carl Jung (Michael Fassbender). Set in Zurich and Vienna from 1904 to 1913, Christopher Hampton adapts his own 2002 play, The Talking Cure (itself based on Non-fiction book A Most Dangerous Method by John Kerr) and though the film’s stage origins are evident in the lack of scope an historical piece of this kind would most often demonstrate, what the film lacks in sweep is at least somewhat rehabilitated with excellent performances, not least among these being Keira Knightley’s turn as psychiatric patient Sabina Spielrein, a Russian Jew who later became one of the first female psychiatrists. Cronenberg/Hampton concentrate on showing us Jung’s treatment of patient Spielrein and the professional and personal bond that blossoms between them. Jung’s alliance with his mentor Freud is also detailed (mostly though letters), creating a slow build with the older, venerated Freud set in his opinions relating to the field, and Jung attempting to explore new pathways to discovery that will advance the science. Shot by Cronenberg regular Peter Schuschitzky, the film is beautiful to look at, fluidly evoking the period, though again the limited settings at times make the film feel like a chamber play. Though Knightley’s physical abnormalities are displayed with uncomfortable precision, the events involving the personal relationships dominating the film are mostly held in check, preventing melodrama from overtaking the proceedings - no easy task given a plot that seems to be straining toward it at every turn. For a production that is so professional in so many ways, the actual philosophy and methodology discussed is a bit simplistic, and there is an almost completely unnecessary supporting character played by Vincent Cassel, though the actors ultimately keep an audience interested.

Corman’s World (USA) (doc) Directed by Alex Stapleton

There has never been anyone quite like writer/director/producer Roger Corman. The sheer number of people who worked for him and went on to enjoy historic Hollywood careers is enough to solidify his legacy in an industry/town that historically had little to no use for his talents. The list of those employed by Corman at one point, and in one capacity, or another, includes Francis Ford Coppola; Peter Bogdonavich; David Carradine; Martin Scorcese; Joe Dante; James Cameron; Dennis Hopper; Talia Shire; Ray Milland; Basil Rathbone; Nicholas Roeg; Barbara Hershey; Peter Lorre; Vincent Price; Curtis Hanson; John Sayles; Robert Towne; Bruce Dern; Monte Hellman; Polly Platt; Pam Grier; Peter Fonda; Jonathan Demme; Ron Howard; and Jack Nicholson. Many of these same people appear in the film, giving testimony to Corman’s legendary iconographic status; his proper demeanor (he was educated at Stanford and Oxford); business savvy; and extreme frugality. What is perhaps the most illuminating aspect of the film is the way in which it makes a case for how Corman’s B films and philosophy of feeding the masses eventually translated into movies like Jaws and Star Wars and an entirely new era of blockbusters originating from low grade sources. Corman actually had a golden opportunity to begin doing bigger and better films in the late sixties when he brought Easy Rider to his longtime partners, American International Pictures, but an insult levied at Dennis Hopper led to the film being set up elsewhere, and Corman and partners subsequently lost millions. Corman the man is an interesting study because his demeanor and carriage is so unlike what one might expect from the pre-eminent schlock-meister of the past fifty plus years. Even people who obviously have great affection for him talk about how they were essentially exploited for little to no pay, though for the most part they also concede to entering into the bargain knowingly, attending what is referred to as “the school of Corman.” Jack Nicholson is perhaps the most eloquent and candid of the interview subjects in discussing his longtime friend, detailing how Corman was basically the only one who would hire him for a decade. Although Corman made but a few select films that stand up today quality-wise, he did distribute some excellent foreigns from some of the greatest directors in history, an interesting footnote in a legacy as layered with irony as the man himself.

Knuckle (IRE) Directed by Ian Palmer

There have been a number of narrative depictions of Irish Travellers (Traveller; Into the West; Pavee Lackeeen) and even several documentaries having to do with traveller boxing (Southpaw; King of the Gypsies); and a BBC series called My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding, but though the subject matter isn’t completely new novice director Ian Palmer brings a unique perspective to these itinerant people’s history of “fair play” bare knuckle boxing. The film focuses on a clan of gypsies, the Quinn McDonagh’s, and their nemesis’/ relatives The Joyce’s and The Nevin’s. Palmer originally met members of the Quinn McDonagh’s (including brothers James, Michael, and Paddy), while assisting with the filming of one of their weddings in 1997 - a fortuitous happenstance that would lead to him spending some twelve years periodically capturing their arranged, refereed bouts and discussing the longstanding feud that exists between the families. The discord evidently stems from several violent deaths that occurred in the late eighties/early nineties, though allusions are made to the disagreement extending longer than that. Palmer wisely avoids a broader sociological perspective having to do with Traveller culture, choosing to focus his examination on the fighting and these particular families. While he does ask some deeper questions of some of his key subjects (and eventually even speaks with some of the camera shy women) about the origins of the disagreement and the hatred that has built over the years, he mostly records passively as the events play out over time. The results yield a narrow insider’s view of a rather mysterious and odd sub-culture with rules and customs all its own. Simple though the film might be, there is no absence of compelling drama.

Directed by Pedro Almodovar; Augustin Almodovar  Written by Pedro Almodovar; Augustin Almodovar  Starring Antonio Banderas; Elena Anaya; Marisa Paredes; Jan Cornet; Roberto Alamo; Barbara Lennie

Though no doubt influenced by the classic melodrama of Sirk; soap operas/tele-novelas; the surrealism of Bunuel and Fellini; the style and themes of Hitchcock; the avante-garde/underground/gay cinema of Jack Smith, Andy Warhol, John Waters and the like; and a host of other sources, watching a Pedro Almodovar film is an experience as unique as seeing something from Woody Allen; The Coen Brothers; Wes Anderson; David Lynch; Aki Kaurasmaki; Lars Von Trier; The Dardennes, or any number of iconic auteurs. Almodovar has created a world entirely his own and the stories arise within this construct - the characters, plots, and stories changing, genre influencing individual pieces, but always there is Almodovar.

There can, of course, be a downside to watching the full breadth of any auteur’s work play out over time. The repetitive themes and touchstones can begin to tire; a feeling can arise (for instance, in the case of the afore-mentioned Allen) where one wonders if the artist has simply said all they had to say. Conversely, in the same way that we enjoy great living novelists, we are repeatedly allowed an updated installment of the life’s work of the individual artist that is no different from a gallery showing; and in this way we are allowed to come along with the artist as they age, understanding all the while the basic world we are entering into each time out and accepting both the new found wonders that arise, as well as the limitations and excesses of the obsessive authorial imagination.

Thankfully, Almodovar seems to have plenty of gas left in the tank, and this strange, complex film, with details reminiscent of the work of David Cronenberg, adds to the list of recent quality offerings from the master. Based on a French novel by Thierry Jonquet, with a screenplay co-written by Almodovar and brother Augustin, The Skin I Live in is almost impossible to categorize - at once lyrical and as aseptic as anything Kubrick could have imagined, it’s a kind of monster hybrid, a Medical/Sci-Fi/Erotic/Psychological/Horror/ Thriller recalling shades of films as diverse as Coma; The Collector; Sliver; and Hitchcock’s Rebecca and Vertigo. Clouded in mystery, the film slowly, teasingly reveals itself through a series of flashbacks experienced by Dr. Robert Ledgard (Almodovar’s frequent 80s collaborator Antonio Banderas), a plastic surgeon, and his charge, the body suited Vera (the lovely Elena Ayala).

Despite the emotion involved in some of the more dramatic moments, Almodovar keeps a cool, voyeuristic distance from his characters, allowing the events in the past and present to play out with the clinical dissection of one of Ledgard’s procedures. Shot by Jose Luis Acaine, every aspect of the design is impeccably rendered, an area where Almodovar emulates the great Hitchcock. Much like the oneirism in Vertigo, The Skin I live In plays out as a kind of fever dream, purposely leaving an audience on unsure footing throughout. Toying with an array of questions about identity and sexual politics, Almodovar keeps us off balance, blurring the line between reality, waking and sleeping dreams, and memory; sanity and insanity; and the past and present.

Almodovar has never been one to allow himself to be kept in a box, and while the themes here feel very much lived in, this particularly wild genre meld is something new. Though subjects like strong mothers, the objectification of women, rape, image obsession, family, and various aspects of gender identity dominate his oeuvre - much in the same way he enjoys repeatedly employing some of the same performers - Almodovar continues to challenge audiences with his innovative, singular work.

Take Shelter (USA) Directed by Jeff NIchols Written by Jeff Nichols Starring Michael Shannon; Jessica Chastain; Shea Wigham; Tova Stewart; Katy Mixon; Ron Kennard; Lisa Gay Hamilton; Kathy Baker; Ray McKinnon

Thirty Four Year old writer/director Jeff Nichols follows up his debut Shotgun Stories with another successful collaboration with actor Michael Shannon (a third pairing, Mud, is due out in 2013) with this five million dollar, aply titled offering. Shannon plays thirty five year old Curtis LaForce, a blue collar oil driller from Ohio who begins having intensely violent waking and sleeping dreams (nightmares? delusions? visions?) involving an impending torrent of weather, combined with attacks of various kinds on himself and his family.

Though the film might fall into a loose genre of apocalyptic vision/psychological thriller related films, Nichols expertly subverts expectations at every turn by showing restraint with the supernatural elements (perhaps also influenced by the limited budget) and grounding the performances in realism. Though it is true that Shannon has quickly become marked as an actor who does this type of anxiety/angst/psychosis well, and his character is not allowed a plethora of wiggle room, these facts do not not make his structured performance any less effective.

Nichols also gets outstanding work from an interesting cast consisting of new it girl Jessica Chastain (who is nothing short of superb) as spouse Samantha; Shea Wigham (Boardwalk Empire) as friend/co-worker Dewart; and Katy Mixon (Eastbound and Down) as his wife Nat. He even elicits a fine turn from little Tova Stewart as daughter Hannah, and gets experienced actors like Lisa Gay Hamilton; Kathy Baker; and Ray McKinnon to play small roles that result in their scenes emerging as something more than they likely would have as written.

Take Shelter works on multiple levels, touching upon an array of serious sociological issues, though it is never obvious in its delivery or messaging. The very nature of Curtis’ job speaks to our enormous ecological challenges and search for sustainable/green energy. The obsession with weather certainly leads into further thought about our worldwide climate questions. Throughout the story, Curtis and Samantha struggle to make ends meet in a difficult economy, all the while endeavoring to care for their deaf daughter, and navigate the vagrancies of the insurance system. In a number of small moments the importance of money in the day to day existence of a working class family is highlighted in the kind of tactile way often ignored in film. One of the most impressive aspects of the script is that Nichols takes a series of wide-reaching social issues any neo-realist would be proud of and fits them neatly into a film nominally about apocalyptic visions.

Like Lars Von Trier’s Melanacholia, Take Shelter involves a possibly afflicted protagonist who comes to believe in an impending catastrophic event happening from out of the sky and develops an accompanying obsession to protect the people closest to them. In Melancholia there is a well-known possibility of this occurring, while Curtis must attempt to come to grips with his personal visions without the benefit of an actual recognized meteor, knowing all the while that there is a history of mental illness in his family and it all just might really be in his head. Like Meloncholia, the film does a nice job of demonstrating the difficulties faced by the mentally ill with deciphering what is real and what is imagined, and how one can be in various stages of consciousness regarding his or her own problems.

Though Curtis may be motivated by a genuine, overriding desire to protect himself and his family, his actions with the storm shelter located on his property very much mirror a certain mentality that involves extreme paranoia, mis-trust, and survivalism. The fact that this behavior is arising within a rural, mostly white setting is not coincidental, though again, Nichols refuses to lay out the landscape on a silver platter and forces the audience to connect the dots. Curtis is, of course, burdened by the actual dreams he is having, but is this an outgrowth of a burgeoning mental illness and/or the extreme real world pressures imposed upon him by the life he finds himself ensconced in, or is there some truth to the event they seem to portend?

Curtis’ unraveling real life, and an increase in the accumulated impact of his visions/dreams are part of an expected escalation in the drama that recalls the usual path taken by psychological thrillers, but Take Shelter is never about the set up and punch that most often dominates like-minded films. Our revulsion over the imagined possible disasters that might befall the LaForce family is neither placated nor exploited, and despite the extreme circumstances the characters behave in life-like ways, which may to an extent dull anticipation and anxiousness in places, but ultimately serves to allow the end result to sit a lot better.

Demonstrating a startling command of tone, Jeff Nichols is one of the brightest young voices in American cinema. Take Shelter is also one of the best films of the year.

The Interrupters (USA) (DOC) Directed by Steve James

Steve James is a name that must be mentioned along with Errol Morris; Alex Gibney; Werner Herzog; Michael Moore; and Frederick Wiseman; et al, as being among the pre-eminent documentary directors of our time. It is possible that his work in commercials and in narrative film have prevented James from producing more non-fiction, which if true (while certainly his prerogative) would be a shame. Even in this reality age, there are simply not enough quality stories being told, or at least ones that feel truly important and fully fleshed out. James’ work in this realm has an undeniable mark of virtuoustic authorship.

Like Hoop Dreams, The Interrupters is set in inner city Chicago, and follows a group of gang violence ‘Interrupters’, who, under the auspices of the organization Ceasefire, do outreach work with poor African American and Latinos to prevent retaliatory gang violence. Founded by Gary Sutkin, a white doctor specializing in infectious diseases, the idea is to take former hard core local criminals and use their connections and knowledge to intercede in gang politics when violent situations arise. Sutkin compares the effects of violence in these communities to historic plagues that have devastated large portions of populations.

The crime/murder statistics in the United States involving poor people in general, but blacks and Hispanics in particular, are indeed staggering. It sometimes appears as if there is little that can be done to halt the endless trail of tears and blood that seem to cycle across and through generations of communities dominated by single parents, under-educated/under/un-employed and incarcerated juveniles and adults. These same people wind up producing young children who grow up too soon, racked by the trauma inflicted upon them in their homes, in the inadequate schools they attend, and on the mean streets where they reside, repeating the mistakes of those before them.

Likely due in large part to the subject matter, The Interrupters takes a more macro/politicized approach then Dreams did, showing us the various sub-strata of the organization. It took James five years to film 1994’s Hoop Dreams, and some fourteen months for this one, and The Interrupters is not as absorbing as that famously Oscar snubbed film. Of course, despite the similar locale, that is probably an unfair comparison to make in the first place as James’ seminal film is/was considered by many to be an example of the finest of the form.

Despite the charged nature of the material, James employs a light touch, refusing to stretch for drama, nor heighten the proceedings in a bombastic manner - rather, he observes, allowing his subjects speak for themselves. There is real drama on display as we monitor Ceasefire meetings and follow these outreach workers as they work with groups and individuals in crisis by listening, suggesting short term solutions, and relating their own history in the face of extremely volatile, life and death situations.

Cut down in length several times, one can feel some of the events in the film ending too abruptly in places, and what results is more like the highlight reels we’ve become accustomed to in reality TV - thus, the absence of the fully played out mini-dramas we can only surmise were left on the cutting room floor. A longer run time presumably would have provided a more rounded view of these marginalized people, and those who have attempted to curb their lives in order to be of service to their communities.

In terms of structure, James wisely focuses the attention on one supervisor, the eloquent Tio Hardiman, and three of these street-level interrupters, all products of the neighborhoods they work. Ameena Matthews is a soulful Muslim mother, daughter of former kingpin Jeff Fort; Cobe Williiams, a gregarious ex-con and married father/step-father, whose own father was murdered in front of him when he was a child; and Eddie Bocenegra, a soft spoken, introspective Latino who served fourteen years for the murder he committed as a younger man.

While the pure weight of these enormous sociological issues serve to laden the entire proceedings with an air of fruitlessness bordering on despair, the hope and courage displayed by those who refuse to give up on their community or themselves eventually shines through, and the glint that is evoked feels entirely earned.

50/50 (USA) Directed by Jonathan Levine  Written by Will Reiser  Starring Joseph Gordon Leavitt; Seth Rogan; Angelica Huston; Bryce Dallas Howard; Phillip Baker Hall; Matt Frewer; Andrew Airlie

A strange blend of movie-of-the week subject matter and stoner comedy somehow works in spite of itself, due in no small part to a relatively light touch by director Jonathan Levine (The Wackness). The film is based on Will Reiser’s semi-auto-biographical/fictionalized script focusing on his personal battle with cancer. Reiser and actor/producer Seth Rogan were friends in real life, working together on Da Ali G Show in 2003 when he was diagnosed with the disease. Here, Joseph Gordon Leavitt plays Reiser stand-in Adam Lerner, a Public Radio employee in a bad committed relationship with girlfriend Katherine (Bryce Dallas Howard). Adam is a bit of a neurotic, a non-smoker/drinker, who worries about everything, a trait clearly handed down from his smothering Mom Diane (Angelica Huston). Rogan is Adam’s (surprise) stoner best friend/co-worker Kyle, who exploits the news of his buddy’s affliction as a tool to pick up girls and help him smoke more weed. While there is an unfortunate misogynistic viewpoint at work here that helps sour some of the more effective elements of the film, Rogan’s jerk-off character is funny, and the actor is always better when not having to carry the full weight of a film’s emotional center. Although Anna Kendrick’s young therapist Katherine feels like exactly what she is - a contrived screenwriting invention to give Adam a love interest and elicit expository dialogue in a more natural way, their relationship is sweet, despite the overdose of self-aware awkwardness. Saddled with a one-note character, Bryce Dallas Howard somehow manages to squeeze something interesting out of the girlfriend from hell, and Huston does well as the overly protective, burdened Mom, ultimately serving as the impetus for one of the main lessons learned. While the film heavily leans toward the relationship between Adam and Kyle, we do get several effective scenes with cancer patients Alan (Phillip Baker Hall) and Mitch (Matt Frewer) as Adam undergoes chemo, though opportunies for more trenchant inspection of the medical profession with the chilly, distant Dr. Ross (Andrew Airlie) go largely unexplored. While 50/50 might have been more effective as a film about a guy who gets Cancer and how the people around him react, as opposed to being melded into a comedic sensibility that feels more like Seth Rogan’s well established one, it is nevertheless an interesting handling of a difficult subject matter.

The Ides of March (USA) Directed by George Clooney Written by George Clooney; Grant Heslov; Beau Willmon Starring George Clooney; Ryan Gosling; Evan Rachel Wood; Phillip Seymour Hoffman; Paul Giamatti; Marisa Tomei; Jeffrey Wright; Max Minghella; Jennifer Ehle

Directed by George Clooney, the script is based on the play Farragut North by Beau Willmon (who shares screenwriting credit with Clooney and his partner Grant Heslov). Focusing on presidential candidate/ Pennsylvania Governor Mike Morris (Clooney), Ides is reminiscent of similarly solid political dramas like Primary Colors (1998); The Candidate (1972); The Contender (2000); Manchurian Candidate (1962); The Best Man (1964); and State of Play (2003/2009).

Clooney is clearly at home with the material, and the story naturally reminds us of the many real life presidential candidates who have dealt with public scrutiny under the intense national media spotlight. Ideas about special interest groups/PACs and the accepted quid pro quo nature of the beast are woven in nicely to a fairly standard morality play. With visuals from Alexander Payne regular Phedon Papamichael, the mis-en-scene is nothing less than rock solid - the look just right, the dialogue crackling with insider talk and topical references.

Clooney’s Hollywood cache can be felt in the knock-out cast he manages to assemble, one that includes Ryan Gosling as media expert/2nd in command, Stephen Meyers; Evan Rachel Wood as intern Molly Stearns; Marisa Tomei as reporter Ida Horowicz; Paul Giamatti as opposition campaigner Tom Duffy; Jeffrey Wright as Senator Thompson; and Phillip Seymour Hoffman as campaign manager Paul Zara, and as one might expect given the pedigree of the cast and the director’s background as an actor, the performances are all top-notch.

While it’s easy to enjoy the snappy dialogue and the swift pace of the plot; and, while the talents of the cast create an anticipation regarding the promise of potential greatness in each individual scene; Ides is a rare example of a film that might have benefited from more run time. Its through-line is so streamlined it’s as if we miss out on some prime opportunities to savor the actors and the spot-on world being portrayed, and one can’t help but wish there was a bit more digressive meandering, and perhaps less reliance on the rigid structure of conventional genre.

The end result of the admittedly slick end product is that there is a feeling of never having gotten to the heart of characters played by Jeffrey Wright, Marisa Tomei, and Phillip Seymour Hoffman, for instance - who all seem equally as potentially interesting as our leads. This is not to say that Clooney and Gosling are not well suited for, or compelling in, their archetypal roles. Clooney, again, looks right at home as Morris - a well-spoken politician with a quick mind and easy smile, a man accustomed to working people and cultivating his image at all costs. Gosling’s Steven, despite his relative experience, is still an innocent, maintaining the belief one can mix idealism with the very cynical, dirty game of campaign strategy, still under the impression that he can carefully manipulate the degrees to which he compromises his personal integrity.

Restraint and minimalism are not often qualities associated with the Hollywood product, and so both should probably always be applauded when employed. Clooney the man has a number of strengths that help make him the effective mini-mogul he is, not the least of which being good taste. The films he has thus far elected to direct are reflective of this quality, each a thoughtful handling of subject matter with some meat on the bones.

Perhaps it is unfair to criticize or penalize a film for not showing off all the members of its phenomenal cast to the fullest, or for having strong, lead actors in minor roles in the first place, and perhaps asking a film that is financed by Hollywood, and essentially affixed to genre, to become something more is also unfair. There is, after all, the old axiom about leaving them wanting more. Still, it might be the very quality of the elements contained in this cinematic stew that raise the stakes and automatically promise something more, and in the end this very good film leaves one feeling feeling somewhat unsatisfied, as if this were part one of a two part mini-series that leaves one anticipating a next installment that will never come.