Beeswax (USA) Directed by Andrew Bujalski  Written by Andrew Bujalski  Starring Till Hatcher; Maggie Hatcher; Alex Karposky; Anne Dodge; Katy O’Connor; David Zeller; Kykle Henry; Christa Moore; Janet Pierson

Thirty two year old writer/director/editor Andrew Bujalski might well be considered the grandaddy of the mumblecore movement. His debut Funny Ha Ha (2002) set in motion the creation of a series of low tech offerings made with small crews and featuring twenty-somethings with communication issues. While Funny Ha Ha was set in Boston (Bujalski grew up in a nearby suburb) and his second, Mutual Appreciation (2005), takes place in Brooklyn, his third feature Beeswax is set in his adopted home, Austin. This western mecca of all things hipster serves as a fitting backdrop for another of Bujalski’s examinations of interpersonal relations among the young and slackerish. Per usual, Bujalski casts non-professionals, including several Austin based film professionals usually found behind the camera. The leads are real-life twin sisters Tilly (Jeannie) and Maggie (Lauren) Hatcher. Jeannie is a parapalegic owner of a funky used clothing boutique. Between jobs and boyfriends, Lauren is floating, searching for her next move. Jeannie fears that her partner in the business, Amanda (Anne Dodge), might sue her (why is never exactly explained) so she enlists ex Merrill (Alex Karposky), who is studying for his impending bar exam. Shot in 16mm by regular collaborator Matthias Grunsky, the look has progressed since Bujalski’s first film. This time out, there is also an actual plot, albeit an understated, somewhat obscure one. The tension is present, though it is consistently subverted by a concentration on small conversations illustrating the interconnectiveness of the sisters and the people in their lives as opposed to focusing on an escalating trail of events, something Bujalski could care less about and basically eschews. Though there are the usual hems and haws and verbal stumblings layered into the dialogue, what is of primary importance to this director is what we discern between these stilted lines.

Greenberg(USA) Directed by Noah Baumbach  Written by Noah Baumbach  Starring Ben Stiller; Great Gerwig; Rhys Ifans; Jennifer Jason Leigh; Chris Messina; Mark Duplass; Susan Traylor

The film world is awash with debate over the current state of distribution. In recent years, a movement called Mumblecore has been defined by films made with ultra low budgets, shot on video (or 16mm film), using improvisational techniques, and starring mostly non-professional twenty-somethings. The name is derived from the fact that many of these characters speak in a halting, tentative way, uncomfortably relating to the opposite sex, forever “mumbling” their half articulated thoughts in an embarrassed, self-effacing manner.

While Mumblecore films are produced on paltry micro-budgets, forty year old writer/director Noah Baumbach has had his own trouble getting his indie offerings financed and to the screen. Despite the critical accolades much of his work has received, the audience for the personal projects he seems intent on creating is perceived to be of the relatively limited variety. Baumbach has a personal friendship with director Wes Anderson, and has collaborated on his screenplays for The Life Aquatic and Fantastic Mr. Fox (supplanting Owen Wilson as Anderson’s writing partner). His appeal is thought to be less wide than Anderson’s, however, and perhaps only his ability to cast stars has allowed him to continue to make theatrically released films at all.

Starting with Kicking and Screaming (1995), Baumbach has turned out a series of dialogue driven character pieces focusing on educated intellectuals who are sometimes witty, but most often not altogether likable. Baumbach has had his heartbreaks, including Highball (1997), a film in which he removed his name due to a dispute with producers. Low budgeter The Squid and the Whale (2005) brought him rave reviews, festival/ critics awards, and an academy nomination for best screenplay, but Mr. Jealousy (1997) and Margot at the Wedding (2007) easily elicited as much intense criticism as they did praise.

The son of two writers/film critics and husband of indie darling/actress Jennifer Jason Leigh (who is given producer/story/acting credit here), Baumbach has spent a lifetime immersed in books and film. His characters are often writers, and subjects like infidelity, depression, and artistic relevance recur throughout his work. He is clearly influenced by European art cinema, and like his friend Anderson, seems to have an affinity for British rock, retro styles from the 70s, and literature. Apparently, Baumbach has also recently become enamored with the Mumblecore movement, befriending the acting/directing Duplass Brothers (Mark appears here in supporting role) and employing director/actress/resident siren Greta Gerwig as his female lead.

Brooklyn native and resident Baumbach sets this film in Los Angeles. An ex musician who enjoyed a brief run of success in his early twenties, the titular Roger Greenberg is now a carpenter who has relocated to L.A. (an L.A. native, he has been in New York for twenty years) following his release from a mental hospital. Medicated, still reeling from his nervous breakdown, he takes up residence in the home of his rich and successful brother Phillip (Chris Messina), who has travelled to Vietnam with his wife and kids. It’s while crashing at his siblings expansive abode that Roger meets twenty-something Florence (Gerwig), a slightly awkward, naive, and wounded young woman who works as a babysitter and personal assistant for the family.

Roger is anti-social, neurotic, paranoid, and fairly seething with hostility. While beginning an odd romantic relationship with Florence, he also attempts to reconnect with his ex-band-mates, including old best friend Ivan (Rhys Ifans), and ex-girlfriend Beth (Jennifer Jason Leigh). He soon finds that the fixed ideas he maintains about the past are not even remotely shared by those he was closest with, calling into question his memory of that time, and thus the assumptions upon which he has constructed his rather desperate existence. The humor is biting, and though tightly scripted Baumbach’s writing was clearly influenced by Mumblecore depictions of fumbling conversations. The very speech patterns, as well as the weirdly cold sex scenes, smack of the work of Andrew Bujalski, Joe Swanberg, and the aforementioned Brothers Duplass. 

Stiller, wild-haired and skinny, is as good as he has ever been, and Gerwig benefits from better production values, an actual script, and a director who knows actors. Her trademark naturalism is then thankfully enhanced as opposed to stilted, demonstrating that Baumbach knew what he was getting with her pretty, open face, blonde hair, and large boned, imperfect body, and had no intention of making her conform to a more stylized product or disrupting her easy, unaffected style. Her character is a kind of antidotal Annie Hall to Stiller’s nebbishy, though exponentially more hateful Alvy Singer, a marooned human being who can’t imagine why on earth this young woman might possibly be interested in him, let alone want to share in his decidedly uncertain future. At one point he even chastises her for not being “a divorced thirty-something with kids and low expectations”.

Shot by Harry Savides (Milk; Zodiac; American Gangster; Elephant),Gus Van Sant’s regular cinematographer, the film captures the wide open, sunny look of LA, which is contrasted by the New York City (of our imagination) that Roger (and Baumbach himself) is accustomed to. This fish out of water aspect of the film informs a series of running gags, and is also a metaphor (or perhaps an outgrowth?) of Roger’s inner life. Aging, alone, pathologically self-involved, and slightly off-kilter, Greenberg is fairly bursting with regrets from his past failures. Perhaps, in light of this fact, he also harbors a strange resentment for the younger generation. An avowed Luddite of sorts, who doesn’t drive, writes angry protest letters to corporations, among other things, Roger is opposed to change, the speed of modern life, and resents anyone who would expect anything of him.

Part of what is fascinating about Baumbach is his ability to secure name actors like Eric Stoltz, Jeff Daniels, Laura Linney, Nicole Kidman, and Ben Stiller to embody fiercely unlikable lead characters. Some of the vitriolic response to Baumbach’s work seems to arise out of a reaction to these arrogant, semi-abhorrent intellectual types, though this very fact separates Baumbach from his peers, differentiating his work from other modern American directors of cinema. The wrongheaded and misguided criticism levied at this talented auteur for failing to signpost and tailor his films to fit into mainstream conventional constructs  illustrates the pervading influence the Hollywood product has on this country’s audiences and critics alike. Baumbach should be treasured in the same way we look upon The Coen Brothers, Wes & PT Anderson, and Van Sant - directors who are among the best we have to offer.

The Runaways(USA) Directed by Floria Sigismondi  Wriiten by Floria Sigismondi  Starring Dakota Fanning; Kristen Stewart; Michael Shannon; Stella Maeve; Alia Shawkat; Tatum O’Neal; Brett Cullen; Scout Taylor Compton; Keir O’Donnell; Brendan Sexton

In her first feature, Italian writer/director Floria Sigismondi, a photographer and video artist, chose to adapt lead singer Cherie Currie’s autobiography, Neon Angel: A Memoir of a Runaway, to tell the story of the all teenage girl band The Runaways. Despite the inclusion of some of the requisite drugs and sex, as well as the presence of an outrageous, meglomaniacal puppetmaster (Michael Shannon as Kim Fowler), something here feels vaguely sanitized. It’s as if the film is messy, but not messy enough.

Troubling too is the overly narrow focus, which would have us believe that lead singer Currie (Dakota Fanning) and guitarist/singer Joan Jett (Kristen Stewart), one of the film’s executive producers, were the only group members sufficiently worthy of exploration. Forget the fact that Lita Ford (Scout Taylor Compton) went on to become a famous solo performer, or that drummer Sandy West (Stella Maeve) wound up leading a life denoted by serious drug abuse, lesbianism, and prison, the two female stars dominate the allotted screen time, thus reducing the potentially fascinatingly and complicated dynamics to a more simplistic and straightforward tale of two individual (albeit intersecting) characters and story-lines.

In fact, due to a legal issue, a composite character, Robin (a woefully underutilized Allie Shawkat), was created to represent real life original bass player Jackie Fox. Interesting actors in supporting roles such as Tatum O’Neal (as Cherie’s Mom); Keir O’Donell; and Brendan Sexton are there and gone before we get a chance to figure out who their characters are. The relationship between Cherie and her sister Marie (Riley Keogh), the twin who got left behind, is potentially compelling, but also winds up under-developed.

Sigisimondi employs her photographic talents to create an authentic period feel, replete with visuals that are muddied just enough that we can practically smell the band’s cigarette smoke breath and the performance sweat emanating off their capes and leather pants. Cinematographer, Belgian Benoit Debie (Irreversible; Day Night Day Night; Innocence) is controversial French director Gasper Noe’s frequent collaborator, and the attention paid to the look is evident. One wishes that the script from both a dialogue and structural standpoint came anywhere near being as innovative or interesting.

The acting is generally solid with Stewart particularly strong as Jett. Given more to do, the performance would likely have shown to be fuller and deeper as Stewart is clearly an actor focused on the internal. Many of the subtleties of her representation are unfortunately lost, however, in a series of banal scenes that fail to dig down deep to the abhorrent underbelly of exploiting young teenage women in the pursuit of a dollar. While the film, to its credit, avoids the preachiness that might have pushed this toward movie of the week territory, one can’t ignore a kind of soft serve handling that seems to shy away from testing the limits of a topic open to true cinematic commentary.

Whether fears about ratings and marketing, and/or Jett’s inclusion as executive producer (her view of Fowler’s exploitation differs greatly from other band members) contributed to a more homogenized  perspective or not is open to debate, but all former members agree that drug and alcohol abuse, sex, and manipulation of various kinds were a part of the ride, and one is naturally faced with a host of questions regarding the band members ability at the time to make their own decisions, as well as the complicity of all adults (including parents; Fowler; record company execs; handlers; roadies) who were present during the experience.  

Sigismondi clearly understands the sexual politics here, and it is not as if she ignores Fowler’s mistreatment of the band members, or the questions of period female empowerment in the music industry/society as whole, and while the band’s short-lived run (only 3 1/2 years) contributes to a successful fight against the kind of episodic torpor often besetting biopics, there is a certain sense of immediacy missing from the package that should be very much a part of this kind of verite attempt.

Ultimately, former bassist Vicky Tischler Blue’s (known as Vicki Blue) 2005 documentary Edgeplay: A story About the Runawaysprobably stands as a better representation of the phenomenon of a band that, in its original form, made only three (The Runaways (1976); Queens of Noise (1977); Live in Japan (1977) albums (and several with other members), and had only one real hit (Cherry Bomb), but are still remembered for the major cultural impression they stamped upon various parts of the world.

Precious(2009) Directed by Lee Daniels  Written by Geoffrey Fletcher  Starring Gabourney Sidibe; Mo’Nique; Mariah Carey; Paula Patton; Lenny Kravitz;

Whether the sheer volume of occurence and/or the graphic extent of the vividly depicted ugliness on display separates Precious from any number of well-done Lifetime movies is open to debate. The acting is excellent though, and the script is mostly devoid of the painful exposition that often besets TV movies. However,  the unrelenting accumulation of melodramatic moments does place a severe strain on this story about a sixteen year old African American woman from Harlem whose life is seemingly composed of a series of tragic events and ongoing daily abuse.

Newcomer Gabby Sidibe, in her first role, was plucked from obscurity to embody the titular character Clareece ‘Precious’ Jones, and though the mostly deadened affect and monosyllabic nature of the battered, inarticulate, illiterate and physically obese teen allows her to avoid both major chunks of dialogue and, for the most part, scenes of major emotional nuance, the performance is a good one. Fifty year old second time director Lee Daniels elicits a number of other solid turns as well, most noticably the Academy Award winning one by Mo’Nique (who was in Daniels first film, Shadowboxer), as the vile, despicable Mommie Dearest, Mary.

Included among the main supporting players are some creative casting choices - namely, musician Lenny Kravitz as Nurse John, and singer Mariah Carey (sans make-up, but with some upper-lip hair) as Ms. Weiss. New York native Carey is surprisingly naturalistic, a fact that might come as a shock to those who may have been subjected to her work in Glitter. Paula Patton (also doing the no make-up thing to hide her beauty) is also reasonably effective as Ms. Blu Rain, a lesbian teacher in the alternative program Precious winds up attending. Singer Corrinne Bailey Rae even shows up as Ms. Rain’s girlfriend. Can one note a theme here?

Several questions automatically arise in the viewing, not the least of which being is this mere exploitation dressed up as cinema? Certainly, if nothing else, all involved might be accused of more than a bit of piling on. While there can be little doubt that there is something to be said for the bravery involved in basing a film on an overweight, nearly silent African American female character; and while it is probably true that in the process tribute is being paid to those who suffer at the hands of their abusers by forcing the audience  to endure some semblance of discomfort viewing human beings sadistically torturing another, it might also have been prudent to have toned down the myriad tragedies that befall our lead, if only for the sake of the limited time alotted to a mainstream, theatrically released feature film. The bludgeoning that occurs within a relatively narrow window leads an audience member feeling they’ve undergone their own personal beating.

The fantasy sequences perhaps do well evoking the inner life of a young person who naturally refuses to accept her own unspeakably horrific reality, though they also concurrently work to interrupt the thread of dramatic tension and momentum which otherwise builds through the heart of the baseline scenes. On the whole, the film might have done better leaving Precious’ dream-life on the cutting room floor, along with some of the other devices employed by Daniels to further the ends of consistently upping the melodramatic ante.

The classroom scenes smack of the same kind of stuff we have seen too many times before, a far cry from the realism demonstrated in a recent offering like the French film The Class. The students here feel very much like stock creations, and the teacher character, Ms. Rain, is perhaps a little too good to be true. There are undoubtedly some powerful moments and one rousing performance (by Mo’Nique), though Preciousis at its best when it sticks to the simple, day to day moments in the life of this unfortunate young soul. It is a memorable story, but one that may have dobe better with a less adorned, overstuffed final product.

A Prophet (Un Prophete)(FR) Directed by Jacques Audiard  Written by Jacques Audiard; Thomas Bidgeain; Abdel Raouf Dafri; Nicolas Peufaillit  Starring Tahar Rahim; Niels Arestrup; Adel Bencherif; Hichem Yacoubi; Reda Kaleb; Jean-Phillipe Ricci; Leila Behkti; Slimane Dazi

Revanche(DAN) Directed by Gotz Spielman   Written by Gotz Spielman   Starring  Johannes Krisch; Irina Potapenko; Johannes Thanheiser; Ursula Strauss; Andreas Lust

Austrian Gotz Spielman writes and directs this compelling, multi-faceted drama. Set in urban Vienna and the outlying countryside, this modern cinematic tale focuses on Alex (Johannes Krisch), an ex-con thief who works as an assistant in a local brothel, Cindarella. One of the prostitutes is a beautiful, drug addicted Ukranian immigrant, Tamara (Irina Potapenko). $30,000 in debt to unctuous brothel boss Konecny (Hanno Proscl), she is being pressured by him to move into an apartment to service VIP customers. Alex (who also drives for the gangster/pimp) and Tamara are in love, however, and Alex wants them to escape to Ibiza, where he claims his friend is looking for a partner to invest in a new bar. Alex dreams of making some fast money to finance his and Tamara’s future, while immediately bettering their miserable existence. Though she clearly cares for Alex, Tamara is more fatalistic, surmising that their current existence is simply the hand they’ve been dealt and that everything is “normal”. As the story progresses, complications and tragedy ensue, and the film’s tone takes a decided shift, evolving into a meditation on loss, regret, and redemption. Therefore, although the usual genre plot conventions are initially firmly entrenched, what surprisingly emerges is an evolving character study, a change that helps subvert the more obvious course normally associated with thriller/suspense. Excellent support from actors Ursula Strauss; Andreas Lust; and Johnannes Thanheiser. There are similarities with the work of German Fatih Akin and Danish directors like Nicolas Winding Refn and Susanne Bier.

Antichrist(DAN) Directed by Lars Von Trier  Written by Lars Von Trier  Starring Willem Dafoe; Charlotte Gainsborough; Storm Acheche Sahlstrohm

Antichrist provoked extremes in terms of audience reaction when it debuted at Cannes, response that included booing and walking out of the theater, although conversely Charlotte Gainsborough won the festival’s best actress award. Shot by Brit Anthony Dod Mantle (Slumdog Millionaire; Millions; Dogville), the cinematography is nothing short of incredible. Hand held scenes are juxtaposed with sections of exquisite, lyrical beauty. Gone are the severe, self-imposed technical limitations instituted by one of the founding members of Dogma 95. Von Trier (who’s beset with a host of fears and anxieties) reportedly wrote the screenplay in response to one of his severe bouts of depression. Broken into chapters, the finished product is constructed as if it were allegory, although the symbolism is perhaps too random and ultimately abstract to actually pin down and make complete sense of. Von Trier, who began making English language films in the mid-90s, has since set most of his efforts in the U.S. (though, with his fear of flying, he hasn’t even visited this country). Nominally based in Seattle (though shot in Germany), this is essentially a two hander about an unnamed couple, He (Willem Dafoe) and She (Charlotte Gainsborough), who lose their young son Nic (Storm Acheche Sahlstrohm) in a tragic accident while engaged in the throes of passionate sex (a blended sequence artistically shot in super slo motion to a Handel aria). She suffers a nervous breakdown, but after her month long hospital stay, therapist He is convinced he can treat his wife’s all encompassing depression himself. The two repair to their isolated cabin in the woods (an area that feels like the Dis-enchanted Forest) to confront her fears. Influenced by Swedish dramatist Strindberg, Von Trier is a Brechtian storyteller, and Antichristis clearly intended as a take on Gothic horror with a wink (i.e. a fox speaking the words “chaos reigns”). How then are we supposed to digest the philosophy espoused by She proclaiming women evil by nature? The mutilation of genitalia? The graphic sex scenes (porn actors were employed for closeups)? The ironically (?) named woods, Eden? How too can one accurately describe the film as a whole? Disturbing; brutal; visually compelling; depressing; frightening; bravely, powerfully, and physically acted; shocking? It could also, in the same breath, be deemed messy; absurdly self-indulgent; wildly misogynistic; and perhaps even, pointless. Von Trier has long been criticized for his anti-Americanism and misogyny. Unlike a film like Dogville, his ongoing indictment of the U.S. isn’t overtly stated, though there is enough disparagement of the female race to more than make up for it. Von Trier continues to challenge the film viewing public with work that defies the formal boundaries of the medium. Whether his verdant, mad concoctions are entirely premediated or not; the work of an artist in search of pure expression or product from a provocateur of the highest order (or something in between), his defiance of convention stretches the limits of narrative film, pushing audience and filmmakers alike in this increasingly barren cinematic landscape. Never a bad thing.

Avatar(USA) Directed by James Cameron  Written by James Cameron  Starring Sam Worthington; Zoe Saldana; Sigourney Weaver; Michelle Rodriguez; Giovanni Ribisi; Stephen Lang; Joel Moore; Laz Alonso; Wes Studi; CC Pounder

From a visual standpoint, Avatar is everything it’s cracked up to be. The 3-D, particularly in an IMAX theater, outdoes ones average trip to the local multiplex by a longshot, with the ability to turn even certain small moments fascinating - particularly in the live action scenes, where it adds pristine detail, imbuing the film with an aesthetic that seems to push the visceral experience closer to some kind of magical live stage spectacular. No doubt, the epic scope of the entire world of this $275 million film is impressive, and writer/ director James Cameron’s obsessive approach to advancing technology has led to steady improvements in 3-D/CGI, re-imagining what is possible for the form.

Fans of big adventure escapism like The Lord of The Rings and the Harry Potter series will likely have little issue with the myth-making going on here, but others may balk at the rather basic plotting, lack of character development (or, for that matter, credible character), and simplistic, speech laden dialogue filled with lines that too often come off like those uttered in an overwrought War of The Worlds-esque radio play.  Further, as visually stimulating as the film might be, it’s still too long by at least a half hour.

The attractive leads - Aussie Sam Worthington as Jake Sully, a paraplegic ex-marine, and Zoe Saldana (okay, so we don’t actually see in her human form, but we know what she looks like, right?) as Na’vi princess Neytiri are fine (if a bit bland), and admittedly it’s kind of fun to see the embodiment of Cameron’s Alienlead Ellen Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) playing scientist Dr. Grace Augustine. Villains Parker Sefridge (Giovanni Ribisi) and (especially) Colonel Mills (Stephen Lang), however, are absurdly over the top, comic book creations without the slightest nuance offered to balance the scales. Cameron’s anti-war/pro-environmental message, as right-minded as it might be, is ham-handedly delivered through the mouths of these stock evil-doer constructs, and they spew a steady stream of jingoistic inanities as they express their desire to conquer, rape, and pillage the imaginary forest land (Pandora) of the giant, blue, indigenous tree people.  At least the bad guys are Americans, though, and so the disparaged party is not some vaguely identified third world country as is the normal course in big budget action/war flicks.  

As gloriously constructed as some of the action sequences may be, there is more than a little repetition as the film proceeds. The 3-D is fun, and Pandora is interesting to look at for a spell, but at its heart this is not much more than your average animated fantasy epic, a little too in love with the cleverness of its invention, and nowhere near groundbreaking when it comes to story. Jim Cameron has been quoted saying that what we see represents the future of film, and that we will henceforth need to reconsider how we view acting performances. His overall point involves the premise that this technical process is somehow beneficial to actors because it utilizes their movements and facial expressions to help create the animated images. It seems like a convoluted perspective at best, one unimstakedly emanating from a filmmaker who considers actors mere window dressing, present mostly to serve the cinematography, the CGI, and the many gadgets and post production tricks available in this very rich man’s arsenal. The obvious implication in what he is really saying, of course, is that they’re lucky we’re using them at all since we can do it all ourselves if we choose to.

Avatar is worthy of some of the hype, at least in regards to the magnificence of the technology, but take away the glam and glitter and there remains a semi-hollow, paint-by-numbers kids fable that ultimately adds up to little more than an overextended allegory. Of course, the same might be said of Star Wars, or the previously mentioned epics of recent years, and all of these franchises certainly put a lot of rear ends in the seats and move a lot of DVD units and ancillary merchandise, and that, of course, is the whole idea. While Avatar  is undoubtedly a relatively fun couple of hours, one wonders if Cameron’s latest love child is closer to an amusement park ride or video game than a work of cinema, and the implications of what it all means for the art form are potentially fairly dire, the director’s hubris notwithstanding.

Crazy Heart(USA) Directed by Scott Cooper  Written by Scott Cooper  Starring Jeff Bridges; Maggie Gyllenhaal; Robert Duvall; Colin Farrell; Jack Nation; Paul Herman; James Keane

Sixty year old Jeff Bridges, the architect of memorable characters like Jeff “The Dude” Lebowski from The Big Lebowski; Jack Baker from The Fabulous Baker Boys; President Jack Evans from The Contender ; and Duane Jackson from The Last Picture Show , sometimes gets overlooked when discussions of our finest actors take place, perhaps because his work is so naturalistic that there may be a tendency to forget he is acting.

Son of Lloyd; brother of Beau, Bridges has been plying his trade since the age of two, working steadily and consistently - first on TV, then in film.  The California native has been married for thirty years to the same woman, fathered three children, and is something of a renaissance man with a penchant for photography, illustration, and music (he even recorded an album, Be Here Soon, in 2000).

Here, he stars as Houston based Otis “Bad” Blake, a hard drinking/smoking/womanizing country singer/ songwriter in the mode of Townes Van Zandt (whose music is on the soundtrack) or Kris Kristofferson, with a little Hank Williams; Johnny Cash; and/or Waylon Jennings thrown in for good measure. Riddled with poor health; married multiple times; estranged from a son he never took care of or saw, Bad is enmeshed in the down-slope of a once successful career, playing in dive bars for those who want to re-live his hits from long ago. Bridges is truly potent as Bad, his wild hair, beefy frame, booze-soaked skin, and bloodshot eyes merely the most visible signs of a messy life lived on the edge.

Maggie Gyllenhaal plays Jean Craddock, a single mother and music reporter from Santa Fe New Mexico, who is decades younger then the fifty seven year old song man, but has endured her share of heartache. The two, along with Jean’s four year old son, Buddy (Jack Nation), enter into a relationship that serves as the core of the film. Robert Duvall (who helped produce; and who himself played a country crooner with a sordid personal past, Mac Sledge, in 1983s Tender Mercies) is Bad’s older friend/employer, bar owner Wayne, and Colin Farrell takes a small role as a famous singer Tommy Sweet, who got his start in Bad’s band. Though Tommy is the source of Bad’s jealousy and resentment, he too provides the grizzled bad boy an opportunity at artistic relevance and perhaps even some form of personal redemption.

Partnering with Stephen Bruton, the music was done by T-Bone Burnett (O Brother Where Art Thou), and the soundtrack includes contributions from George Jones; Buck Owens; the aforementioned Van Zandt and Jennings; and relative newcomer, Texan Ryan Bingham, who wrote the theme song The Weary Kind. Bridges had previously worked with Burnett and Bruton on Heaven’s Gate  (1980), Michael Cimino’s classic commercial flop. In that film, long time friends and collaborators Bruton and Burnett were part of the on screen band, while Bridges was one of the lead actors. Bruton, who was dying of cancer at the time of Crazy Heart’s filming (and died some time after its completion), became something of a model for Bridges, who used some of Bruton’s experiences and characteristics in shaping Bad.

The plot is hardly innovative, and there is some lack of delving into the source(s) of Bad’s pain that ultimately keeps the film out of the realm of cinema classic. First time director, actor Scott Cooper (who also adapted the Thomas Cobb novel), doesn’t stray far from other films with similar subject matter like Nashville; Payday; (the previously mentioned) Tender Mercies; Songwriter; Forty Shades of Blue, and various other country music biopics that have mined similar territory, but the music is solid, and Bridges’ performance is good enough to help distinguish this one as among the best of a solid bunch.

Bright Star(2009) Directed by Jane Campion  Written by Jane Campion  Starring Abbie Cornish; Ben Wishaw; Paul Schneider; Kerry Fox; Edie Martin; Thomas Sangster; Gerard Monaco; Antonia Campbell-Hughes; Olly Alexander

New Zealand’s Jane Campion (The Piano) directs this beautifully composed story of the love affair between Romantic poet John Keats (Ben Wishaw) and Frances “Fanny” Brawne (Abbie Cornish), a previously un-serious type with a love of witticisms, flirtation, and a talent for dressmaking. Australian native Cornish (Somersault; Stop-Loss) is perhaps best known as the real life girlfriend of Reese Witherspoon’s ex Ryan Phillipe (she was at the center of the controversy over their split), but she is a gifted young actress who lights up the screen as a woman experiencing all encompassing love for the first time. American Indie fave Paul Schneider plays Charles Armitage Brown, a man dedicated to the talent of his friend Keats, who is protective of his talent and suspicious (and perhaps even jealous) of the mutually obsessive love that develops between Fanny and the poet. The story is based on the real life events in the lives of these neighbors, who lived next door to one another at Wentworth Place. Keats suffered from Tuberculosis, and died in 1821 at age twenty five. During his short life, he was harshly received by critics, and never experienced popular or financial success of any kind. Both Keats and Fanny came from similar backgrounds, as both of their fathers were London Innkeepers. At the time of their meeting, however, Fanny’s family was comfortable, while Keats was impoverished, a fact that made their coupling a near impossibility. Though the story is obviously a tragically romantic one, Campion resists the kind of overly dramatic flourishes often seen in films of the type. The plot is familiar, with all the angst one expects from a tale focusing on the ill-timed meeting of two early 19th century would-be lovers, but the relationship is (for the genre) subtly detailed. Sumptuous visuals (from cinematographer Greig Fraser) and understated elegance mark this well calibrated historical drama