You know those relationships that are just doomed right from the start? It's usually blatantly obvious -- especially when the breakup happens before they meet.
I'm speaking of THE LAST FIVE YEARS, Richard LaGravenese's film adapted from the Broadway play of the same name, which tells the story of the five year long relationship between Jamie Wellerstein (Jeremy Jordan), an up-and-coming novelist, and Cathy Hiatt (Anna Kendrick), a struggling actress. While the relationship doesn't actually end before it starts, the chronological order of their relationship does get pulled apart for the sake of the story, splitting into two paths: Cathy's path is seen backwards -- from the end to the beginning of their relationship -- and Jamie's path is seen forwards, from start to finish. This concept really makes the story engaging -- one can simultaneously see the budding and the breaking of a relationship as the plotlines weave together -- but the execution in the film was far from perfect. The plot was muddled at times, and it was tough to visually discern where exactly in the timeline the characters were at any given moment (more tangible clues would have been appreciated, whether it be a drastic change in the characters' appearance, or some other indicator).
But once you start catching on, the film is enjoyable. Though the structure of the story may be somewhat clumsy, the character study that unfolds is fascinating: both characters want happiness, but are on completely different pages about what that happiness looks like. Jamie thinks it looks a lot like success -- be successful, be happy. Cathy also wants success, but she's looking for someone who can help her get there -- though she tries to deny it, she's looking for someone to "save" her. The lyric, "Finally he can cut through these strings and open my wings" is a huge indicator of this at the beginning of their relationship... and when she finds that he can only help her fulfill her dreams to a certain extent, she gets upset. Both characters are selfish at times, and both make bad decisions. And both wear their emotions on their sleeves: when they are happy, they are exuberant -- but when they are sad, they become stuck and unsure of what to do. It's basically like every theatrically stereotypical relationship involving 20-somethings, but with a lot of heart.
The music is fantastic, and Kendrick and Jordan really belt it out in parts. The two actors have pretty strong on-screen chemistry, and both have some really vulnerable scenes. Playwright Jason Robert Brown should take a bow on that note: the characters feel real, and that is what makes it stand out so much: even though it reuses some of the more tired character tropes, it portrays them in a fresh, relatable way.
THE LAST FIVE YEARS is now playing at the Midtown Cinema!
Monday, February 16, 2015
Thursday, February 5, 2015
Sam's Blog - Still Alice
Alzheimer's: the word is becoming more and more prevalent in the United States. As the number of patients creeps steadily upward, it becomes harder and harder to ignore. It's nearly impossible to find someone who isn't affected by the disease, whether it's directly or indirectly (a friend or family member). But whether you know someone or not with the disease, you will be affected by STILL ALICE, Richard Glatzer and Wash Westmoreland's most recent film. Not only is it a showcase for a multiple award-winning performance by Julianne Moore, but it is also simply a poignant and relatable story.
Linguistics professor Alice Howland (Moore) and her husband, John (Alec Baldwin) are what you would call a successful, happy couple. They have three children: Anna (Kate Bosworth), Tom (Hunter Parrish), and Lydia (Kristen Stewart), all of whom are already out in the real world as adults. Alice begins to notice that she is having lapses of memory loss... at first the moments are just little things that happen to everyone: she occasionally loses her place in a conversation, forgets a word, etc. But as her symptoms become more clear and consistent, Alice decides to get a diagnosis, and learns that she has Alzheimer's.
What follows is a powerful character study of one so inflicted. The film tracks Alice's progression through the stages of the disease, and, in a roundabout way, shows the different stages of grief -- though tweaked a bit, as it is not just one event but an ongoing situation that Alice must deal with. She goes through brief denial, waiting til she's already had several doctor's appointments to tell even her husband of her symptoms; she blames herself for the risk she's put her children in; she tries to make light of her situation, and she tries complete openness to remain close to her family. As her symptoms progress, Alice quickly hits the anger stage, resisting her limitations and getting angry at people who try to coddle her ("I can make my own tea!" she says angrily in one scene).
The beauty of this film is that not only did we see Alice's journey, but we saw it all through her eyes. The use of focus in the cinematography is the first indicator: when Alice begins to show symptoms, the world becomes a blur, signifying her confusion and uncertainty. Then, as her condition gets worse, whole scenes are shot out of focus, conversations that reflect just how far along she is -- she begins, of no volition of her own, to let go. But it isn't just the cinematography that gets you: the script tactfully draws you in close to the characters at the beginning of the film, only to distance you from them as the story continues. In any other story, John's struggle would be just as present and in the foreground as Alice's (this is not to say that his character is not fleshed out -- his coping strategy is so painfully realistic, and relatable for a lot of people), but in this circumstance, his story becomes very detached, his actions seen at arm's length as Alice finds it harder and harder to connect with him -- or anyone, for that matter.
It's a realistic portrayal of a family. It doesn't try to sugar-coat things, or give a miraculous example of how a family can draw closer together in hardship, but simply focuses on telling Alice's story -- and, in effect, opening the door for those with their own Alzheimer's experiences to tell their stories.
There are a few labored moments, but overall, the film flows gracefully. Moore's performance is visceral and heartbreaking; every moment she is on screen, she is Alice. The rest of the cast gives great performances as well (especially including the supporting role by Stewart), but they are nothing compared to Moore. STILL ALICE is now playing at the Midtown Cinema -- come check it out!
Linguistics professor Alice Howland (Moore) and her husband, John (Alec Baldwin) are what you would call a successful, happy couple. They have three children: Anna (Kate Bosworth), Tom (Hunter Parrish), and Lydia (Kristen Stewart), all of whom are already out in the real world as adults. Alice begins to notice that she is having lapses of memory loss... at first the moments are just little things that happen to everyone: she occasionally loses her place in a conversation, forgets a word, etc. But as her symptoms become more clear and consistent, Alice decides to get a diagnosis, and learns that she has Alzheimer's.
What follows is a powerful character study of one so inflicted. The film tracks Alice's progression through the stages of the disease, and, in a roundabout way, shows the different stages of grief -- though tweaked a bit, as it is not just one event but an ongoing situation that Alice must deal with. She goes through brief denial, waiting til she's already had several doctor's appointments to tell even her husband of her symptoms; she blames herself for the risk she's put her children in; she tries to make light of her situation, and she tries complete openness to remain close to her family. As her symptoms progress, Alice quickly hits the anger stage, resisting her limitations and getting angry at people who try to coddle her ("I can make my own tea!" she says angrily in one scene).
The beauty of this film is that not only did we see Alice's journey, but we saw it all through her eyes. The use of focus in the cinematography is the first indicator: when Alice begins to show symptoms, the world becomes a blur, signifying her confusion and uncertainty. Then, as her condition gets worse, whole scenes are shot out of focus, conversations that reflect just how far along she is -- she begins, of no volition of her own, to let go. But it isn't just the cinematography that gets you: the script tactfully draws you in close to the characters at the beginning of the film, only to distance you from them as the story continues. In any other story, John's struggle would be just as present and in the foreground as Alice's (this is not to say that his character is not fleshed out -- his coping strategy is so painfully realistic, and relatable for a lot of people), but in this circumstance, his story becomes very detached, his actions seen at arm's length as Alice finds it harder and harder to connect with him -- or anyone, for that matter.
It's a realistic portrayal of a family. It doesn't try to sugar-coat things, or give a miraculous example of how a family can draw closer together in hardship, but simply focuses on telling Alice's story -- and, in effect, opening the door for those with their own Alzheimer's experiences to tell their stories.
There are a few labored moments, but overall, the film flows gracefully. Moore's performance is visceral and heartbreaking; every moment she is on screen, she is Alice. The rest of the cast gives great performances as well (especially including the supporting role by Stewart), but they are nothing compared to Moore. STILL ALICE is now playing at the Midtown Cinema -- come check it out!
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
Sam's Blog - Two Days, One Night
In the past, Hollywood has been very callous in its treatment of people with mental illness. Just look at the majority of the horror genre and you'll understand what I mean. But I've noticed lately that more and more films have centered their focus on those with a mental condition -- not as the antagonist, but the protagonist. Here at the Cinema alone, we've seen a slew of films -- BIRDMAN, FRANK, THE SKELETON TWINS, NIGHTCRAWLER -- and STILL ALICE is yet to come but I'll include it in this list. And now, from the directorial hands of Belgian brothers, Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne, we have TWO DAYS, ONE NIGHT.
At surface level, TWO DAYS, ONE NIGHT already has a brilliant hook: Sandra (Marion Cotillard) must petition her coworkers to give up their end-of-the-year bonus so that she may keep her job. The company has really put her in a sticky situation: to deal with a financial bump in the road, they ask their employees whether they would prefer their bonus or for Sandra to be let go (talk about awful bosses -- this is capitalism at its finest, folks). But it isn't just her salary that Sandra is struggling to keep... we quickly realize as her predicament unfolds before us that Sandra also struggles with depression. In fact, it is indirectly the reason she's in this mess to begin with: she had to take time off of work to battle it, and her boss realized that they only needed 16 employees instead of 17 to cover the workload.
Needless to say, at the moment that Sandra has gotten her life emotionally back on track, this situation causes her to lose her ground. Throughout the film, her husband, Manu (Fabrizio Rongione) acts as her coach, continually reminding her to fight -- for her job, and her livelihood. As Sandra picks her way through her list of coworkers, trying to win them over to her side, she must make the decision not to give up.
There are moments when the film becomes a bit repetitive -- after all, Sandra is confronting 16 different people and asking them all the same thing -- but a handful of the coworkers stand out, propelling the story forward. These supporting characters instantly come to life -- some are at once vile and unforgivable, and others are quick to win your heart with their own story.
Cotillard oscillates back and forth between deadened emotion and overwhelming grief, cultivating an incredibly complex performance. It is no wonder she is up for an Oscar... she's never had a dull performance, but the way she so quietly fleshes out Sandra's struggle is downright beautiful -- and compelling enough for my vote. TWO DAYS, ONE NIGHT truly focuses on the characters, giving insight into a situation that no one wants to find themselves in. It's a gem of a film -- come check it out this week at the Midtown Cinema!
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