The Directors----"Blood Simple" (1984)

I know that the blogging has been extremely spotty lately. Part of it is that, following the holiday award rush, I probably needed a bit of a break from the movie world. Along with that, I've been buried under some obligations at the office, along with preparing for a wedding and a move.

So, from now until early April, things are still going to be a bit sporadic.

But I did want to start off this month by posting my new series--The Directors.

As I try to broaden my cinematic horizons, I want to take on a project that allows me to catch up with the work of some directors who I find intriguing. I have a list of names that should get me through this first year and my plan is to post one entry a week, on Sunday nights. This allows me not only to see a number of classic films that I have until now neglected to view, but it also provides greater perspective on how certain filmmakers have matured over the years, what common themes they tackle and what they've added to cinema.

First up are The Coen Brothers. That was basically a no-brainer. Each year it seems they have a new film out that enthralls me and shoots directly to my "best of" list. In just the past few years they've given us the perfect "No Country For Old Men," the wonderfully daffy "Burn After Reading," the brilliant "A Serious Man" and this year's Oscar contender "True Grit." That's not to mention classics like "Raising Arizona," "Fargo" and "The Big Lebowski."

The Coens are actually a great start for this project, as they've zig-zagged across so many different genres since their 1984 debut that I can't imagine this project feeling boring. So we're going to start today with that 1984 film, the dark and delicious film noir "Blood Simple."

Blood Simple


Murder is never as easy it seems.

During my time as a reporter, I had the opportunity to cover several murder trials and, through my colleagues, hear stories of other grisly cases. One thing that has always left me shaking my head is the thought that murderers always think they can get away with it, that nothing has been left to chance and they're going to be two steps ahead of everyone else.

Of course, it never happens that way. Getting rid of bodies is hard work. Murder is rarely a one-person job and conspiracies easily lead to paranoia, which leads to betrayal. The randomness of life ensures that there is always going to be an unforeseen difficulty to trip up the perpetrator and cast the light of suspicion on them.

That thought occurred to me several times during "Blood Simple," Joel and Ethan Coens pitch-black debut. The title can be read several ways, but I kept coming back to two: an ironic commentary on how murder is never simple, or a description of the way violent crime renders a perfectly normal person totally incompetent.

Certainly Julian Marty (Dan Hedaya) thinks he's about to commit the perfect crime. He suspects his wife Abby (Frances McDormand) is cheating on him with his bartender Ray (John Gertz). When a private investigator (a wonderfully sleazy M. Emmett Walsh) confirms Julian's suspicions, the bar owner decides to hire the PI for another job--kill his wife and her lover.

That's where things get complicated. To say anything about how the plot unfolds would ruin the film's nasty twists and turns, which develops with all the precision of a great thriller and the unpredictability of the best black comedies. There's a betrayal, another murder, the gruesome work of disposing a body. As Roger Ebert observed, there always seems to be one more body than necessary and throughout most of the movie no one has a clear idea of who is killing whom or why.

So many of the marks that define the Coens' later work are already on display with this debut. Their love for language--which is in full bloom in their sophomore feature "Raising Arizona"--is evident from the first frame, in which the PI drawls on off-screen to set the stage and warn us that perfect schemes don't always unfold according to plan. The full first sequence is simply dialogue in a car between Abby and Ray, with the audience eavesdropping from the backseat as we stare at the backs of their heads. In a simple three minute sequence, we learn that Abby is escaping her husband and has an attraction to Ray, but we learn this without anyone explicitly coming out to say it.

The Coens have a love for plots that spiral out of their protagonists' control, and the great twist here is how nobody seems to know what's going on. The plot starts off so simple and streamlined and, by the end, three characters are in a room, all of them with different ideas as to what's been going on. Their wrapped up in a situation where people are dying and everyone thinks they know exactly how things have unfolded--but none of them are right. It's to the brothers' credit that, this early in their careers, they had enough confidence over the narrative to keep the characters in the dark while still being able to keep the audience completely in the loop--the plot may become quite labyrinthine, but it's never confusing.

The themes that later come into play in much of the Coens' work--particularly life's randomness and the the futility of trying to control it--run throughout "Blood Simple," as does their skill at staging set pieces that are suspenseful, horrifying and darkly humorous all at once. A protracted sequence involving a body that will not disappear is fantastically played, as is the famous end set piece, involving a shootout with a villain who manages to be in two rooms at once--it sounds bizarre, and it is, but by the time this character is in this predicament, it all makes perfect sense.

If I have one complaint, it's that this film feels a little too well set in the real world. The Coens' films balance humor and suspense so well because they exist in a totally separate universe than the one we live in--one created solely from books and movies the brothers loved growing up. "Blood Simple's" style definitely carries the noir influences you'd expect, but--aside from Walsh's character--the actors aren't given much to do to craft well-rounded characters. They work well enough to carry the plot, but I think the brothers hadn't yet developed their knack for creating the characters who fit so perfectly in their wonderfully realized worlds. There's not much to like about Abby and Ray, except that Julian is such an obviously bad man. Walsh's PI, with his long drawl and Western getup, is really the only character who sticks in your head after the film's over.

That's not to say the performances are bad. McDormand, Hedaya and Gertz all do what they can with the roles, and the film moves so quickly that I was never really bored. More than anything, this is a fascinating exercise in style, with the Coens' crafting an intricate and tightly-wound thriller that slowly boils to its nerve-wracking climax. I'm just curious to see what the film would be like had the Coens made it later in their career.

Nothing much more to say about "Blood Simple" right now. I dug it quite a bit, and I'm sure I'll revisit it down the road. But I'm sure there's going to be more to write about when I take the time to discuss "Raising Arizona" next weekend.

Movie Review: "The Town"

In 2007, Ben Affleck took many by surprise with his nuanced and gritty directorial debut “Gone Baby Gone.”

The adaptation of Dennis Lehane’s best-selling novel was a tough and twisty examination of crime in a Boston neighborhood. It earned Amy Ryan a Best Supporting Actress Oscar nomination and convinced several critics that Affleck’s skill behind the camera might be strong enough to put the “Gigli” jokes to rest once and for all.

With his sophomore follow up “The Town,” Affleck may have also earned the right to have “Jersey Girl,” “Paycheck” and the Animal Crackers scene in “Armageddon” stricken from his record. Keeping his eyes on Beantown, Affleck crafts one of the most riveting crime thrillers in years and delivers one of the strongest performances of his career.

The film is set in Boston’s Charlestown neighborhood, an area known for having more bank robberies than any area in the country. Heists are a way of life to Charlestown boys, who seem to inherit it from their fathers the way others take on the family hardware store.

Doug MacRay (Affleck) is one of those boys. His father in prison for a murder-robbery, MacRay is a washed up hockey player and drug addict who now organizes robberies for an Irish crime boss (Pete Postlethwaite). As the film opens, MacRay and his crew commit a brutal bank heist, taking manager Claire (Rebecca Hall) hostage before leaving her stranded by the ocean.

Upon learning that Claire lives only four blocks from the gang, MacRay’s hot-headed partner Jem (Jeremy Renner) suggests silencing the witness. MacRay, hoping to keep the situation from turning violent, offers to follower her and see what she knows. The two strike up a relationship that has Doug beginning to reconsider his criminal ways, all while Jem tries to convince him to take on a big score and an FBI agent (Jon Hamm) pieces together the new string of robberies plaguing Boston.

This is all well-tread territory and Affleck doesn’t try to reinvent the genre. What “The Town” may lack in originality, it makes up for in reliability.

I was one of the reviewers impressed with “Gone Baby Gone,” but Affleck outdoes himself here. The film, beautifully photographed by Robert Elswit (“There Will Be Blood”) is a slick, energetic affair. The action sequences move with an electricity reminiscent of Michael Mann or William Friedkin, particularly a chase through Boston and a blistering climax inside Fenway Park.

It’s easy to crash cars, shoot guns and blow things up, but Affleck also knows how to play out the film’s quieter scenes, knowing just how long to hold a shot and deliver the suspense and emotion the moment calls for. An encounter between Doug, Claire and Jem at an outdoor bistro is fraught with tension, with the entire scene hinging on whether Claire will notice a tattoo on the back of Jem’ neck. The scene plays out with delicious suspense, thanks to both nimble directing and strong performances by Affleck, Renner and Hall.

Despite some unfortunate career choices earlier a few years back, Affleck has always had a strong screen presence, delivering solid performances in films like “Chasing Amy” and “Changing Lanes.” As Doug, Affleck ably captures the weariness of a man born into crime, raised by criminals and proceeding fatefully into the underworld. Claire provides a glimmer of goodness, intelligence and humanity into Doug’s world, forcing him to think that change might be possible. But his convict father (Chris Cooper) and Jem serve as reminders that Doug is a street kid and that leaving behind the crime-ridden Charlestown streets would not be seen as escape, but abandonment. In a way, it’s the anti-“Good Will Hunting.”

Hall is solid as Claire, and Hamm is terrific as the driven as the FBI agent on Doug’s trail whose ethics may be slimier than Doug’s. Cooper, relegated to one scene, still manages to impress and bring a gravity to the film. But it’s Renner, hot off “The Hurt Locker,” who steals the show, taking the cliché “live-wire” character and giving him a sense of misguided honor and a willingness to do anything at all to stay out of jail and keep his friends nearby. It’s a fantastic performance and Renner creates a terrifying character.

Affleck loves his hometown and, as in “Gone Baby Gone,” he makes Boston a central character in the film. His characters are defined by their settings, wearied and beaten-down by family histories that have played out in the city for years. Elswit’s photography captures Beantown in all of its glory; Boston hasn’t looked this good since “The Departed.”

The film balances its action sequences and relationships well, rarely bogging down in exposition and keeping the breakneck scenes plausible and comprehensible. Affleck allows his characters to breathe and grow without sacrificing the film’s pacing. Only in the final moments does the tone slip from his grasp, turning what should have been a hard and gritty ending into something a bit too cheesy and sentimental. As much as I love “The Shawshank Redemption,” that’s the last film I should have been thinking of at the end of “The Town.”

There’s nothing about “The Town” that hasn’t been done before. Where it succeeds, however, is in taking those familiar elements—the robber with one last job, a chance at redemption and a vicious partner—and playing them out with tension, skill and drama. You may have seen it all before, but rarely is it done this well.

Movie Review: "Shutter Island"

Originally published in the 02/21/10 version of The Source. . .

Much like its asylum setting, Martin Scorsese's "Shutter Island" is a beautifully constructed, exquisitely detailed labyrinth of dark twists, dead ends and buried secrets. It may creak, groan and threaten to topple over, but in the end it succeeds in concealing its mysteries inside a haunting, beautiful structure.

The film is a pastiche of Hitchcockian thriller, film noir and psychological horror that burrows under our skin even when its plot threads don't always quite connect. Adapting a best-selling novel by Dennis Lehane ("Mystic River," "Gone Baby Gone"), Scorsese dips his toes into the horror genre, but don't mistake it for slumming: what seems on the surface to be a standard locked-room mystery is, in reality, a poetic and disturbing look at insanity, guilt and fear.

Leonardo DiCaprio stars as Teddy Daniels, a U.S. Marshall from Boston working with new partner Chuck (Mark Ruffalo) to find a patient who goes missing on Shutter Island in 1954. The patient, Rachel Solando, was put there after murdering her own children and seems to have disappeared into thin air. That's pretty hard to do, considering that Shutter Island is a heavily fortified mental hospital for the criminally insane, surrounded by ominous bluffs and with electric wire surrounding the campus's creaky, dark buildings.

Teddy and Chuck arrive just as a hurricane is bearing down on the island, and Scorsese uses rumbling thunder and howling wind to underscore the constant feeling of dread and doom. But things get even darker when out of the weather, as everyone at the hospital seems to be hiding something. The orderlies and nurses stare oddly at Teddy and Chuck, the warden keeps just a little too close, and even the seemingly gentle and easy-going psychiatrist Dr. Crawley (Ben Kingsley) seems to be keeping secrets behind his warm smile. And then there's Max Von Sydow as a German psychologist who seems eager to provoke the detectives and may have dark secrets of his own.

DiCaprio , in his fourth outing with Scorsese, once again finds new notes to play as Teddy. A hard-boiled detective whose wife was killed in an arson fire, he has no sympathy for murderers. He talks tough and scoffs at Crawley's belief that patients must be treated with respect and dignity if rehabilitation is possible. But Teddy has his own demons - he suffers from migraines and, in nightmares, he relives his involvement in the liberation of concentration camps and speaks to the ghost of his wife (Michelle Williams) before she dissolves into ash. Once Rachel Solando's crime is mentioned, Teddy adds visions of dead children to his nightmares. Teddy is a man haunted, and Shutter Island seems more than happy to keep waking the dead.

Scorsese, possibly the most accomplished American director, has carefully assembled a cast of familiar, talented actors whose presence establishes a shorthand with the audience. Ruffalo is the trusty sidekick, Kingsley the calm mentor who may have sinister motives, Patricia Clarkson shows up later to give Teddy some no-nonsense advice and Sydow's very presence always carries a sinister weight. Scorsese wisely lets these actors play familiar notes, but later asks us if we can actually believe anything they've said.

I have to tiptoe lightly here, because the film's endgame will be the subject of much debate. Some will complain that the final twists come out of nowhere, but the truth is that Scorsese has hidden clues to the big reveal throughout the film and I believe a second viewing will actually improve the movie for many. Closely watch the way a character handles a gun, reaction shots that seem innocuous at first or dialogue that, when heard again, may carry a double meaning. Many may not like the dark places the film finds, but it is very apparent that this is the ending the film was building to the entire time.

Still, I suspect that upon closer inspection, not everything will hold up 100 percent. The plot creaks and twists and sometimes seems in danger of unraveling. In retrospect, there are elements of it that require a heavy suspension of disbelief. Then again, how much we second-guess depends on how much we believe the characters when all is revealed.

But Scorsese is not interested in simply putting together a puzzle box. The plot is simply a way for the director to experiment with genre, and delve into his favorite themes of guilt and redemption. He's less interested in "what happened" than in "how it feels." Saturating the film in deep, dark colors and working with an ominous, doom-inspiring soundtrack, Scorsese allows "Shutter Island" to tap into viewers' psyches, haunting them without resorting to explicit violence or jump scares. The film is, in a way, a haunted house story and Shutter Island, with its endless corridors, leaky ceilings and dank cells, is one of the creepiest settings this side of "The Shining." Scorsese's imagery here is nightmarish and yet beautifully grotesque. Teddy's nightmares are terrifying not because of what they show, but because of how they make Teddy feel. There are disturbing and horrifying images put on display, and yet they never feel gratuitous or cheap, as Scorsese films even the most disturbing scenes with the intention of delving into the deeper truths behind them, finding visual poetry in the death camps of Dachau or in a soaking wet child asking Teddy to save her. There's a sadness and grief to the horror created not only by Scorsese's wonderful eye but DiCaprio's powerful performance. The film's final passages could have elicited a clever laugh, but watch them closely; there's a feeling of sorrow and tragedy to them. The film's final words carry a loaded weight and several tragic implications.

"Shutter Island" is a clever mystery whose plot engages us even as we realize its preposterousness. The story, even in novel form, was pure pulp. What Scorsese has done is add a very human layer to this tale and, by doing that, made a film that shows us that what's outside our minds is the least of what we have to fear.

Movie Review: "Edge of Darkness"

Originally published in the 1/31/09 edition of The Source.

If not for the presence of Blackberries and laptops, "Edge of Darkness" could be mistaken for a replay of Mel Gibson's greatest hits.

Bereaved family man out for revenge ala "Mad Max" and "Ransom?" Check. Cop pushed to the brink of despair and madness, just like "Lethal Weapon?" Check. Quiet loner dishing out violent, bloody justice similar to "Payback?" Check. Detective Tom Craven couldn't be a more tailor-made Gibson character if he was wearing blue face paint and a kilt.

Of course, there's a reason Gibson winds up typecast in these roles: Few actors are able to combine integrity, righteous anger and a touch of madness as well as he does. He's the rare actor equally at home in a screwball comedy or a hard-edged noir, unpredictable because his characters - slightly off-kilter with a penchant for gruesome violence when necessary - are a bit more intense than those played by, say, Tom Hanks.

So Gibson is right at home in this police thriller, helmed by "Casino Royale's" Martin Campbell, playing a cop whose life unravels after his daughter is brutally murdered on his doorstep. While it is initially assumed that the murderer was originally after Craven, his own off-the-books investigation reveals, as such investigations always do in these movies, that there is "More To The Story."

What follows is the typical corporate conspiracy thriller made so popular in the 1990s, where the plot follows like this: Someone close to the cop is murdered in what looks like a standard incident. The cop decides to lay aside his badge and pursue the investigation on his own, and learns that their loved one has been the pawn or whistleblower in some vast corporate scheme that usually involves pharmaceuticals or the federal government. These movies are best known for their villain, who is usually dressed in a suit and seated in a corner office. The films also reliably offer a scene where the hero grimly intones "I'm not going to arrest anyone ... I'm going to kill them.""

Edge of Darkness" makes no effort to hide the fact that it's a pure formulaic exercise; it's actually a remake of a British miniseries directed by Campbell. We know from the start that the murder was likely not just a random crime and when Craven finds his daughter's work badge while going through her things, we know that sooner or later there's going to be a trip to her office, which is likely where we'll meet the piece's villain.

The question is not whether "Edge of Darkness" is formulaic, but whether or not it works. And despite the fact that I felt like I'd seen this movie a dozen times before starring Ashley Judd or Harrison Ford, "Edge of Darkness" does work more often than not, thanks largely in part to Gibson's tough-as-nails performance. The actor's always been able to center his heroes with a sense of humor and warmth, and the early scenes show an easy rapport between Craven and his daughter. The film's first act, in which Craven mourns his loss and has imaginary conversations with his daughter's ghost, is a powerful addition to the formula that manages to convey a sense of loss and a longing for revenge.

Gibson, who has been absent from the screen since 2003 to direct "The Passion of the Christ" and "Apocalypto," ably creates a wounded, soulful hero. Unlike his peers, who often play characters half their age, Gibson is playing an older man, a grizzled police veteran. We know he's seen violence and, just by the cold look in his eyes and the gravel in his voice, we know he's capable of dishing it out as well. Few characters can balance integrity with a touch of madness as well as Gibson, and he's in top form here.

He's nearly upstaged by Ray Winstone, who plays a shady "consultant" brought in by the government to observe the situation and decide whether to silence Craven. With a touch of both comedy and sadness, Winstone creates a great counterpoint to the black-and-white Craven: He's a hit man who's seen too much, lived too little and is weary with the world he lives in, amazed to see a forthright man like Craven amidst the sleazy politicians he works for. Winstone and Gibson have only a few scenes together, but both are the film's high points, elevating it above formula to a place that hints at something deeper that the film may have lost at the editing stage.

Any fault with the film comes from Campbell, whose own track record is full of hits like "Casino Royale" and misses like "Vertical Limit." As stated earlier, Campbell is remaking his own 1980s miniseries and one gets the sense that he's grown a bit tired of the story. Plot points in certain areas are rushed and confusing, and I'm not sure that all the pieces connect as cleanly as Campbell would like them to. It's easy to see that a bit longer of a running time and some more careful scripting would have given the plot the necessary time to unfold and breathe, as certain plot threads feel rushed and others - like the scenes between Winstone and Gibson - seem to just scratch the surface of saying something deeper.

But Campbell is also adept at filming a great action sequence and he delivers a few memorable set pieces here, including one genuinely startling character dispatch. When it comes time to put away the plot and pull out the big guns (literally), Campbell stages the violent climax with the right mixture of adrenaline without making it exploitive. And his handling of Craven's grief in the earlier scenes is a refreshingly touching change of pace from the way such inciting incidents are usually glossed over in these films.

But the audience will likely come for Gibson, whose return in front of the camera is solid while refreshingly familiar. It's nice to know the actor in him can still play the same roles so well after a long break. So long as he stays away from "Lethal Weapon 5," it's a pleasure watching him take on the old tics again.

Catch Up: "Duel" (1971, Steven Spielberg)

I'm going to come out and admit it: I'm not a fan of semi trucks.

I get tense whenever I need to pass one on a freeway. I hate driving along the freeway at night and seeing the headlights glaring in my rear view mirror. I don't like walking into a rest stop because I'm afraid the truckers are going to be leaning against the wall, smoking cigarettes and drinking beer, ready to rough me up.

So it's odd that I've waited until now to see Steven Spielberg's 1971 feature directorial debut, "Duel," a thriller about a mild-mannered salesman (Dennis Weaver) who cuts off a semi one day and finds himself terrorized by the driver.

That's pretty much all you get for a plot description--David Mann is driving out to a sales call when he passes a slow moving semi and then, for the next 90 minutes, it's a game of cat and mouse as the semi driver first toys around with David and then reveals that he may actually have murder on his mind. That's it; just Mann escaping a bloodthirsty semi driver. No wife to save or hidden conspiracies, ala "Breakdown" and no final act that mixes up the modes of transportation like "Speed." Just a man (or Mann) and his red Valiant against a dirty, beat up, smoke belching semi truck. The result is a visceral thrillride that's worth a look simply to see how Spielberg's talent was evident even with this first film.

Watching it tonight, I was reminded how much I hate CGI car chases. I know a lot of people loved the most recent "Fast and Furious," but I loathed the computer-generated car chases. Yes, the digital effects make it look like the cars can go really fast through impossible situations. But there's something about the use of practical effects and stunts that adds another layer of intensity (want more evidence? The last 20 minutes of "Death Proof" beat anything in the "Fast and Furious" franchise). When we see Mann's car take a tight turn at a high speed and then swerve to right itself, our stomachs clench up a little bit. When the semi plows through a phone booth, we know that it was a stunt man who dove out of the way of the oncoming truck but there's still more danger in that shot than in simply creating the car out of nothing. Probably 60 of the film's 90 minutes are dedicated to high speed car chases and it's a pleasant surprise to see just how tense and nerve-wracking they still are after all these years.

Even in his first film, Spielberg's trademarks are evident. There's the suburban family at the background as Mann calls his wife to apologize for a fight the night before. There's the use of close-ups on rear view mirrors and car windows. There's the unseen villain, a template Spielberg would perfect just four years later with "Jaws"--and, indeed, there is a case to make for calling this film "Jaws with a truck," as both films share a raw, primal power.

Even though this is largely a one-man show, Spielberg ably gets us into Mann's head. After an early encounter with the truck, Mann finds himself in a cafeteria looking for the bathroom so he can regain his composure. Spielberg tracks him through the cafe in an unbroken, handheld shot; I love the way the shot's shakiness helps us share in Mann's paranoia, and there's a great punchline to the shot when it ends back at the cafe window, staring at the truck that has mysteriously reappeared. Less successful are some of the voice overs that try and get us into Mann's head--yes, the early line about how the event is "shaking loose whatever held you into place" is well written. But voice over as a rule is a sloppy device and it tends to spoon-feed us information that Weaver's competent performance should have made apparent.

Weaver's performance is crucial in adding an element of psychological thriller to "Duel." Mann starts the film as a composed, somewhat confident salesman, proud of his clean car and nicely-groomed, probably a little cocky on the road. As the truck causes him to become unraveled, he begins accosting strangers at the cafeteria and his attempts to help a school bus make him look deranged. At the end he's a nervous wreck, his voice shaking and high. In the end he's a bundle of nerves, alternating between exhilarated victory and breaking down in terrified tears.

In a way, "Duel" is less about Mann's encounter with a truck and more about his struggle with emasculation. One of the things that intimidates me about truckers is that they often seem to be more like "real men" than I am. I'm polished up in my suit and tie, living a safe and comfortable existence. They're out on the road, caked in grease and grime, working long hours and late nights away from home. They're rougher and tougher, while the rest of us often can feel a bit more fragile and weak.

In many ways, that's the plight Mann finds himself in. The film opens with Mann listening to a talk radio show where a caller is concerned about filling in his census form as "head of the house" because he feels that's the position his wife's taken. When Mann stops for gas and the clerk tosses off a "you're the boss," Mann snaps back with "not at my house." And when he calls to apologize to his wife, it's because he didn't stand up for her when a friend was making an advance at a party. And then, this timid, well-groomed and mild-mannered salesman finds his existence threatened by an unflappable force that stalks him with an almost supernatural determination. When he tries to help out a busload of kids and his car gets stuck, the camera lingers on them laughing at him and making faces. I don't even think I have to bring up that Mann drives a tiny red Valiant and the shot's of the semi truck emphasize its large size.

The psychological undertones of "Duel" are interesting, but at heart this was simply a great chance for Spielberg to show his skills at engaging audiences and delivering heart-stopping set pieces. A surprisingly solid debut for a young director who went on to become Hollywood's biggest name.