Month: May 2015

By Joe Bendel. Yes, the Old West was a violent place – but what would you expect when everyone brought over their grudges from the Old Country? Rose Ross and her father are a case in point. There was a good reason they left Scotland in a hurry. Unfortunately, a lovesick lad from home might very well lead all that trouble straight to their doorstep in John Maclean’s Slow West, which opens this Friday in New York.

Clearly, young, naïve Jay Cavendish considers Ross the love of his life, but it is unclear just what he is to her. Nevertheless, he has an address and is determined to “save” the lass. Traveling through the rugged Colorado plains is a dangerous proposition, but Cavendish finds an ostensive protector. Silas Selleck will try to keep the boy alive, but he has different ideas for Ross. Unbeknownst to Cavendish, a price has been put on the heads of the Ross father and daughter. Selleck is the sort of man who collects on them.

Of course, he is hardly the only hunting the Rosses. Selleck’s old acquaintance Payne is also on the trail. It is safe to say their rivalry is not the friendly sort. Payne would have no problem killing anyone in his way, whereas Selleck genuinely starts to like Cavendish. Obviously this produces seriously conflicted feelings on his part. Regardless, it will all inevitably lead to a violent standoff of some sort. After all, it is the Old West.

At this point, it is too late to call Slow West a revisionist western, because its in-your-face critique of Manifest Destiny represents the current official story of westward expansion. Despite a few heavy-handed sequences (to put it mildly), Maclean still constructs a compelling men vs. men tale, set against a harsh but breathtaking natural backdrop (in this case, it is New Zealand stepping in for the Colorado plains).

Slow West is also a heck of an example of how much the right wardrobe can add to a film. In the future, Ben Mendelsohn will probably be known simply as “the dude in the fur coat.” Costume designer Kirsty Cameron makes everyone look period appropriate, but that enormous trapper coat adds additional layers of attitude and Mendelsohn’s characterization of Payne.

The film also marks the third cinematic collaboration between Maclean and Michael Fassbender and serves as a reminder why it is potentially perilous for critics and film journalists to ignore short films, like their previous Man on a Motorcycle and the BAFTA Award winning neo-noir Pitch Black Heist. Fassbender is instantly credible as a high plains drifter and he keeps cranking up Selleck’s intensity as they approach the Ross homestead. Even though Kodi Smit-McPhee’s vacant screen presence is highly problematic in any film charging admission, it sort of works for the clueless and immature Cavendish. However, the real discovery in Slow West is the forceful work of Caren Pistorius as Rose Ross.

Slow West features some truly impressive technical craftsmanship, particularly Robbie Ryan’s cinematography, which is big in every way. Maclean also stages a terrific gunfight, bringing to mind the climax of Kevin Costner’s criminally under-appreciated Open Range. Recommended for fans of post-Little Big Man westerns, Slow West opens this Friday (5/15) in New York, at the Angelika Film Center.

LFM GRADE: B+

Posted on May 13th, 2015 at 5:16pm.

By Joe Bendel. What was the last artistically worthy romantic comedy you have seen? If you say When Harry Met Sally, Argentinian film reviewer Victor Tellez will want to kill you, or himself. He might let you get away with Bringing Up Baby—maybe. However, anything that recycles those shopworn rom-com conventions produces nothing but bile from the jaded critic. One can therefore imagine Tellez’s surprise and conflicted responses when those same clichés start intruding upon his real life in director-screenwriter Hernán Guerschuny’s The Film Critic, which opens this Friday in New York.

Tellez is happy to explain why Cassavetes represents real cinema, but day after day he slumps through press screenings of the latest sugar-coated tripe. After coffee with his equally snobbish colleagues, he proceeds to eviscerate the latest offensively inoffensive pop culture trifle in his newspaper review. At this point, Tellez has a rep for critical stinginess, but he is not exactly flush. That is why he is so put out when a Spanish expat grabs the perfect affordable apartment out from under him.

He finds it rather strange when their paths subsequently cross, but he pursues Sofia hoping to talk her out of the flat. Instead, he finds himself on a colorful first date kind of thingy. You know exactly where the story is headed from here. There will be rain showers, contrived misunderstandings, walks in the park, and fireworks. Yet, Guerschuny scrupulously observes each formulaic element in order to give it an acerbic twist. In fact, this film just might surprise you and therefore Tellez.

As Tellez, Rafael Spregelburd is a paragon of reserve and restraint, so when he gives us something, it is significant. His chemistry with Dolores Fonzi’s defiantly upbeat and middlebrow Sofia is perfectly awkward, yet strangely believable. Telma Crisanti also gives the film periodic energy boasts, nicely playing off Spregelburd as his hipster video store clerk niece, even though her subplot becomes unwieldy over time.

Frankly, how could anyone find the trials and tribulations of a principled film critic anything less than compelling? Guerschuny’s script is smart enough to pass muster even with Tellez and his grumpy colleagues and as in any rom-com worth its salt, he incorporates some lovely Buenos Aires backdrops. It is a pleasure to watch it all come together. Recommended with real affection for those appreciate sophisticated comedies, The Film Critic opens this Friday (5/15) in New York, at the Cinema Village.

LFM GRADE: A-

Posted on May 13th, 2015 at 5:16pm.

By Joe Bendel. In the dark days of 1970s, way before Giuliani, three men essentially waged a two-front war on the so-called French Connection. Eddie Egan and Sonny Grosso (a.k.a. Popeye Doyle and Buddy Russo) battled the drug ring in New York, while Magistrate Pierre Michel crusaded against them in Marseilles. Forty-some years after William Friedkin’s The French Connection told the New York cops’ story Michel finally gets his own big screen treatment in Cédric Jimenez’s The Connection, which opens this Friday in New York.

While a Magistrate (that peculiarly French office of investigating judge) in the juvenile crime division, Michel witnessed the devastating consequences of the drug trade first-hand. When promoted to felony narcotics, his zeal and integrity surprised a lot of people, particularly honest coppers like Aimé-Blanc. Michel makes no secret of his hope to dethrone Gaetan “Tany” Zampa, the presumably untouchable boss of the Connection’s Marseilles operation. Lacking proof against Zampa, Michel tries to whittle away at his organization, declaring open war on all his underlings.

Naturally, as Michel’s war against Zampa escalates, things get rather ugly. Michel finds his plans constantly undermined by corruption in the Marseilles police department and mayor’s office. However, Zampa also starts to feel the heat from former associates-turned-rivals, who try to move in on the weakened kingpin’s action. The most erratic of these upstarts will be the aptly named “Crazy Horse,” who will cause no end of headaches for Michel as well.

For fans of gangster movies, The Connection is like Christmas and your birthday all rolled together. It is obsessively detailed and compulsively dot-connecting. Art director Patrick Schmitt’s period décor is spot on, but the hedonistic Marseilles backdrop gives the film a vibe more closely akin to Boogie Nights than Friedkin’s grungy street-level Oscar winner.

Not just a strong likeness of Michel, Jean Dujardin has the right oversized presence for the honest Magistrate as well. As seen in The Artist and the OSS 117 franchise, Dujardin can play it scrupulously earnest and square, in a way that is completely genuine and not the least bit ironic. Despite his bouts of righteous indignation and the ultimately tragic dimensions of the tale, there is something Capra-esque about Michel that he successfully personifies. Likewise, Gilles Lellouche (one of the best in the business) expresses the ferocity concealed beneath Zampa’s ice cold façade. Jimenez and Audrey Diwan’s screenplay never valorizes the gangster, per se, but it unmistakably implies those who succeeded him would be even worse.

Decades after the fact, The Connection still feels rather bold for its willingness to name names. It makes it explicitly clear to viewers the same Marseilles that was delivering votes for Mitterrand also protected and abetted the notorious international drug syndicate. Indeed, Gaston Deferre, the Mayor of Marseilles, who would serve as Mitterrand’s Interior Minister (because obviously his city was so squeaky clean), plays a critical but maddeningly ambiguous role in the film.

An unusually ambitious sophomore film, The Connection is sprawling in scope but profoundly jaded in its attitude, exactly like some of the best cinema from the era it depicts. Highly recommended, it opens this Friday (5/15) in New York, at the Landmark Sunshine.

LFM GRADE: A-

Posted on May 12th, 2015 at 10:53pm.

By Joe Bendel. What was a classy lady like Renée Le Roux doing running a casino in Nice? Unfortunately, she did not have much time at the helm of the Palais de la Méditerranée before getting forced out by the Mafia. Pardon, make that: eased out by a rival casino operator with reputed underworld ties. It would be a bitter defeat for Madame Le Roux, costing her far more than control over the casino. André Téchiné adapts her memoir of the so-called “Nice Casino War,” but he de-emphasizes the Scorsese-esque elements throughout In the Name of My Daughter, which opens this Friday in New York.

The Palais was once tightly held by the Le Roux family, but when Madame Le Roux assumed the directorship of the casino, they barely retained a fifty-one percent stake. Many of the minor shareholders were opposed to her appointment, requiring her slightly estranged daughter Agnès to duly vote in favor of her mum. It was a victory orchestrated by her legal advisor Maurice Agnelet, who made something of an impression on the recently divorced Agnès. He happens to be married, but that does not mean much to either of them. Frankly, he is not nearly as attracted to her as she is to him. However, when Madame Le Roux refuses to appoint him as her general manager, he starts manipulating her daughter (and her shares) to extract revenge.

The daughter will indeed betray the mother, but from that point on, the chain of events gets mysteriously murky and tragic. Agnelet will ultimately face trial three times, yet Téchiné prefers to handle such dramatic red meat in the film’s postscript. Arguably, the intrigue and duplicity of the Casino War could have challenged the gangsterism of Cédric Jimenez’s The Connection, but Téchiné prefers to zero-in on the emotionally fraught mother-daughter relationship. The screenplay co-written by Jean-Charles Le Roux, who excised himself and his brothers from the picture, focuses on his anguished mother rather than the defiant Angelet.

Nobody can lord over an elegant old-money casino like Catherine Deneuve. If you had shares in the Palais, you would vote with her, too. Despite some unnecessary passage-of-time makeup, she rock-solidly anchors the film as Madame Le Roux. She instantly suggests a sense of Le Roux’s comfort in this exclusive world, as well as the long and thorny history she shares with both her daughter and former advisor. Guillaume Canet’s Agnelet is not exactly flashy, but he is convincingly cold-blooded, thin-skinned, and borderline sociopathic. On the other hand, Adèle Haenel’s turn as Agnès, the needy hipster, often rings hollow, sounds flat, or some such metaphor, but as you might surmise from the title, she will not be around for the closing credits.

The seductive and captivating thing about Téchiné films like Thieves and Unforgivable is the way they incorporate thriller elements while skirting the boundaries of genre cinema. Yet it becomes almost perverse in the case of the Casino War and the three resulting murder trials. Nonetheless, Téchiné pulls viewers into the story and through the film with a strong directorial hand that characteristically feels deceptively light. Recommended in spite and because of his auteurist idiosyncrasies, In the Name of My Daughter opens this Friday (5/15) in New York, at the IFC Center and the Lincoln Plaza Cinemas.

LFM GRADE: B-

Posted on May 12th, 2015 at 10:52pm.