Movie Review: Blood Ties (2013)

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French filmmaker Guillaume Canet wastes little time setting the mood of his William Freidkin-like adaptation of the Cain and Abel storyline as transported to New York in the 1970s for this intriguing crime saga that centers on the complicated relationship between Billy Crudup’s good cop Frank and his charismatic bad boy older brother Chris (Clive Owen), who’s just been let out of prison after a lengthy sentence.

A dazzling exercise in cinematic style, Canet’s Blood Ties establishes the time, place and feel of the work within its bravura opener that blasts the song “Back in the New York Groove” from its nonchalant beginning all the way up through a police bust and gunfight until Crudup demands the record be shut off.

Far from just a neat trick of editing, this pulse-pounding start to what is a domestic drama more than anything else immediately elevates Ties from recent topically similar features and likewise helps Canet set the stage for dozens of impressive sequences of street opera to come, given the work’s clever marriage of visuals and sound (from ambient to musical).

Whether this approach stems from the fact that this is Canet’s first English language, American-made picture is unknown but far from just opting for trendy scenes of violence and bloodshed cut perfectly in sync with a hit ready rock and roll soundtrack, Blood Ties is filled with gorgeously composed sequences that transcend language to let you into the characters’ lives on an emotional level.

This is perhaps best executed in what feels like a Cassavetes inspired scene that may have been too painful to witness complete with all of the dialogue which finds Frank fighting with his old-flame (Zoe Saldana) before the camera pulls back to the street to give them privacy as we watch them wordlessly argue and make up across multiple locations.

Frank’s fiery passion is mirrored with a sweet moment of romance that plays out silently for his brother in a lovely scene where Mila Kunis uses “Crimson and Clover” to let Chris know that she’d like to be kissed as the audience comes to realizes that this weathered man has been inside for so long that he’s completely missed out on the sexual revolution.

Yet more than just romantically, this technique is also used to build unbelievable tension throughout Blood Ties. From employing The Velvet Underground’s “Heroin” over another multi-set sequence that leads to the unraveling of one character and relying on only silence and ambient sound in two key chase scenes that forever alter lives of the brothers from one shootout turned foot chase to a showdown at Grand Central Station, Blood Ties is a must for aspiring editors.

Of course, crime film buffs will immediately respond to the way that the Grand Central Station finale calls to mind Brian DePalma’s symbolic use of train stations in Untouchables and especially (given its fateful similarity) Carlito’s Way.

Filling a work with Hollywood movie homage while simultaneously making a film that is uniquely his own is no easy task and it’s to Canet’s credit that he pulled it off.

With as much attention to detail as there is onscreen, it comes as no surprise how important the little details are in making the movie work, which is evidenced with how much hinges on missed connections, crossed paths and unspoken words as in a key moment a phone call is made where a signal is given and characters speak a mouthful without uttering a word.

And while I still contend that they should have flipped the names of the brothers around as in no universe does Clive Owen seem more like a Chris than a Frank and vice versa for Billy Crudup, admittedly, it’s this emphasis on getting the mood and emotion right – right down to each and every little, wordless detail – that helps set Ties apart.

The importance of Canet’s artistry cannot be overstated as admittedly, the film’s plot is entirely too familiar as audiences have been inundated with blood ties vs. thin blue line movies over the past few years from We Own the Night to Pride and Glory (just to name two).

Therefore, it comes as no surprise to discover that (even though I haven’t seen the original), Blood Ties is actually an American remake of a 2008 French film in its own right or that Canet co-wrote the script with We Own the Night’s James Gray, whose frequent star Mark Wahlberg was set to play Crudup’s role.

While thankfully Wahlberg sensed the déjà vu in the roles and bowed out before production – leaving Crudup to help put a new face on what critics may otherwise have easily dubbed We Own the Night II, thankfully Canet worked that much harder to go back to the original source of ‘70s filmmakers from Friedkin to Lumet and more to challenge this new school of family cop movies.

An excellent crime tinged family saga – while not nearly as thrilling as the picture that put him on the map via his French adaptation of an American crime novel with Tell No One — Blood Ties is still utterly compelling from start to finish.

Although it’s augmented by its A-caliber cast that also includes James Caan, Lili Taylor, Noah Emmerich and Marion Cotillard, there’s not a lot regarding the film’s plotline that we haven’t seen before. Nonetheless, in the mesmerizing Blood Ties Guillaume Canet proves that a true filmmaker should never underestimate the number of tools that are at your disposal when telling a story cinematically.

Thus, given his command of the material and ambition to turn what could’ve been a simple formula picture to new poetic levels, Canet reveals just how long to rely on words before using everything else up his sleeve to get us back in the New York groove his characters populate to keep us transfixed all the way until Blood Ties reaches its final destination.

   

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Watchmen (2009)

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(7/21/09)

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It's rare just to think of superheroes as people who simply play dress up like paper dolls donning capes or masks. For, instead of entertaining little girls, they decide to clean up the streets as efficiently and often as brutally as possible to begin where the thin blue line ends and go places the cops can't follow.

Although comic book (or graphic novel) mythology is filled with characters who were bit by radioactive spiders, born on distant planets, or find themselves gaining super powers when some sort of scientific or medical experiment goes wrong-- when you truly think about superheroes, you realize that essentially they're an existential breed altogether. After all, they are the ones who decide what's right and wrong for themselves, what they can live with, and what they're willing to do to make the world the way they'd like to see it.

While some refuse to kill and others exclusively assist the police, the self-proclaimed superheroes in director Zack Snyder's Watchmen all just donned the masks on their own and throughout the film, only one truly has super powers in the most classical sense-- namely via a radioactive accident gone horribly wrong. And because people come from all walks of life, we get quite the varied assortment in this extremely faithful adaptation of co-creator and illustrator Dave Gibbons' and writer Alan Moore's originally twelve part work published by DC Comics.

Simply put-- these aren't the superheroes championed in the previous generations who decorated themselves in the colors of the American flag and clearly understood right and wrong.

In the world of Watchmen-- we're shown a nightmarish dystopia of a New York City only a few minutes away from nuclear demise as the minute hand inches closer to the twelve of the doomsday clock. In a chaotic mid 1980s society where Richard Nixon has been president for five terms-- instead of traditional caped crusaders, we're presented with the remaining and/or second generation members of a group of crime fighters who began prior to the World War II era as the Minutemen. Following their initial fame, they've gone through several incarnations as they aided the government, halted the Vietnam war until eventually the world turned on the "Masks" and forced them into retirement.

While some ended up insane and/or dead-- just moments into the film, we're presented with the oldest original member, the Comedian (Jeffrey Dean Morgan) who is a bit of both. Morgan's Comedian is possibly only funny to the most twisted of souls. Unapologetic, vicious and coldblooded, his sociopath has been the go-to man to do our govermenment's dirty work (including being the true shooter of JFK) and personally not above attempting to rape his true love and shooting a pregnant girlfriend in the head.

Upon the film and graphic novel's opening, the Comedian is quickly forced out of a New York penthouse window and lands on the dark, slimy street, with a trickle of blood left on the yellow smiley face button he wore on his robe. Everything we need to know about the Comedian is given away pretty quickly as the film opens with him puffing on a phallic cigar and while it's hard to care about such a monster, his death nonetheless sets the chain of events that follow.

After we're given a brief overview of the history of the Watchmen during an extraordinary title sequence set to the music of Bob Dylan (just one of many phenomenal artists used throughout the soundtrack) that seems as though it was literally pulled right from the shiny pages of the original DC Comic, we encounter the remaining Watchmen including our film noir inspired psychopathic narrator Rorschach (a mind-bogglingly good Jackie Earle Haley).

Defying the bill that outlaws masked vigilantism, the unstable Rorschach-- convinced that Comedian's death is part of a larger conspiracy to kill off the superheroes-- checks in with all the rest. Dutifully keeping a journal of the events that reveals much more than his forever evolving ink blot filled mask does-- Haley's Rorschach is the most fully developed character of the lot and the one whose back-story not only hits us the hardest but helps provide a much clearer picture of the work.

As for the rest of the Watchmen-- only one has publicly revealed his identity in the form of the proclaimed "world's smartest man," and uber tycoon and entrepreneur Adrian Veidt (Matthew Goode). Veidt continues to work with the only one who truly possesses extraordinary powers-- the radioactive, forever nude, glowing blue man Dr. Manhattan (Billy Crudup)-- a former physicist who survived a freak accident that has now made him apathetic to people and obsessive about his scientific work in avoiding doomsday.

The superhero form of a shut-in whose very existence has scared nations into cooperating with the United States-- Manhattan's relationship with his younger, long-time live in girlfriend Laurie Jupiter (Malin Ackerman) is strained as he becomes much less focused on her and withdraws into his work.

Jupiter-- who had joined the Watchmen in order to please her glamorous pin-up mother Silk Spectre (Carla Gugino) as the second Spectre is still in close contact with her former colleague, Dan Dreiberg (Haley's Little Children co-star Patrick Wilson), in a role as dry as his name implies) as he now appears to be an aimless, impotent, over-the-hill boy scout who has succumbed to his retirement that consists of grabbing beers with his predecessor and reminiscing about the past.

Dan's crush on Laurie and her mutual flirtation seems obvious from the first time they're on-screen together but the film that celebrates the neuroses and deviance avoids the idea of a predictable courtship, reminding us that the only way they can be fully satisfied is to return once again to the masks in an exploitative, over-the-top sex scene that's only outdone by the gallons of blood and guts that spill out gleefully in this sadistic R rated comic come to life.

By squeezing in so many characters and a highly complex plot that takes a revisionist view of American history (yet one whose pessimism about the end of time seems sadly timely once again given the senseless wars and violence around the globe)-- Synder's production of Watchmen is a nearly three hour bloated mess that combines some truly spectacular visual tricks and musical cues and bogs it down with characters that never feel fully alive.

Far more interested in going for the same shock that Robert Rodriguez employed in adapting Frank Miller's Sin City in endless gore yet minus the ability Rodriguez had to tell a firmly cohesive story that would fully intrigue those who haven't read the graphic novel-- while it may be incredibly faithful to the work, the translation leaves us unmoved and uninspired by its unwillingness to engage us.

Dazzling with artistry as an attempt to keep us interested-- although more often that not via the wrong reasons with shocking outbursts of blood-- mostly I felt detached from a bulk of the film's characters who seemed less like the fully-formed psychologically challenging individuals promised and more like just shallow, one-dimensional cartoons come to life.

While of course, my reaction would probably have been different had I read the work beforehand, however, much like Catherine Hardwicke's tepid version of Twilight-- ultimately you have to separate the entities of the film from its source material and unless you've read the twelve part graphic novel, you're sure to feel like you're missing out on just what made the book so revered.

It has often been dubbed "the most celebrated graphic novel of all time" and one that was deemed so un-filmable that it took roughly fifteen years to get it made. Granted of course, Watchmen is sure to do great business opening tonight as both a regular theatrical feature and an IMAX experience on an unprecedented number of screens for an R-rated movie-- avid devotees will be able to fill in all the holes and under-developed characters based on their intricate knowledge of the comic.

However, the rest will probably do much better to pick up illustrator Gibbons' and author Moore's multiple-award winning graphic novel which became the first and only one to win not just a Hugo Award but also be included in "Time Magazine's 2005 list of 'the 100 best English-language novels from 1923 to the present.'"

The despite the potential dollar signs dancing before Warner Brothers' eyes and Billy Crudup's indication that he's contractually obligated to appear in a sequel should one be made-- despite Morgan's jokes that the fans would kill 'em-- director Snyder said he wouldn't be involved in another work be it a prequel or sequel since it goes against their intention for the film.

Furthermore Gibbons explains that it was never conceived as a film in the first place with a set-in-stone twelve issue series being his and Moore's intention. And by ultimately presenting audiences with an all-flash for cash work that lacks the requisite emotional arc-- perhaps maybe they would've been better off if they listened in the first place to the original author Alan Moore who publically stated he didn't want to be involved in a film.

To put the psychopaths onscreen without delving into exactly what makes them tick seemed excruciatingly sadistic at times and makes an ultimate payoff on Mars in the third act seem far less Earth-shattering than perhaps the filmmakers had hoped. And while I'd never suggest a sequel-- maybe the best thing for the series other than perhaps leaving it alone on the page, would've been presenting it in installments since it will take more than a simple cheat sheet or pre-film chat with a devotee to give the movie the same impact for one who's never flipped through the pages of the twelve-part book.

Thus in the end, ultimately, it answers its question of "who's watching the Watchmen," by keeping us watching for nearly three hours and hoping that somehow it will all gel together or we'll feel connected in some way but unfortunately, we leave the way we went in-- not entirely certain just who's underneath those masks but even worse-- not sure we actually care to find out in the first place.

Dedication

Director: Justin Theroux

“Success in this business is 99% perseverance and 1% talent,” children’s book publisher Arthur Planck (Bob Balaban) tells three in-house illustrators before dismissing two of them to give the sole female, Lucy Reilly (Mandy Moore) her big break. By this point, it’s evident to the audience that the question isn’t whether or not Lucy is talented and she undeniably is but whether or not she can persevere to work with the publisher’s most unspeakably cruel, judgmental, depressing and misogynistic yet successful authors, Henry Roth (Billy Crudup) after his longtime collaborator Rudy Holt (Tom Wilkinson) dies.

With a constant unease about his existence and a preference to lay on the floor with heavy objects (usually books) atop his body to keep him feeling safe and secure, Henry is a walking time-bomb who, despite producing the wildly popular Marty the Beaver children’s book and being prompted for a sequel, spends most of his time alienating everyone he meets as punishment for his misery and “crap childhood” as well as imagining he’s speaking to Rudy throughout the film even while in the presence of Lucy. Eager to rip his new partner to shreds, he takes Lucy to a diner for a meeting and like most writers, proceeds to inventively create stories about those with whom he comes into contact yet each story is filled with such contempt and horror that Lucy soon flees, only to return with the promise of a two hundred thousand dollar bonus from the publisher to get the book finished, when she’s strapped for cash and nearly kicked out of her apartment by her controlling landlady, Carol (Dianne Wiest) who happens to be her mom.

Hardly the stuff of an “uplifting romantic comedy” as the back of the film’s box promises and while there’s not much going for the film to keep us invested for the first half, the actors (especially Crudup who by this point has made a career of playing neurotic jerks) keep us watching. In addition, there are enough surprises wherein the film fails to go down routes of predictability as when Henry, who beginning to have feelings for Lucy, has the means to crush her former flame seeking a second chance and doesn’t, to make us forgive some of its overly aware eccentricities the filmmakers hoped were quirky but in all reality were just plain annoying.

Making his directorial debut from a first time script by David Bromberg, actor Justin Theroux (Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle, Mulholland Drive) is best when giving his fellow character actors such as Crudup and Wilkinson a chance to shine and misguided when he tries too hard to make some moments overly romantic such as a cringe-worthy confrontation where Crudup pleads for Moore to take him back with more than enough bizarre profanity and crazy stream-of-consciousness dialogue to have anyone (let alone a possible mate) head for the hills. Still, particularly admirable in giving Moore another opportunity to break out of the twenty-something romantic girl movie pack in offering her character a story arc of her own. In Moore's hands, the thoughtful and intelligent Lucy becomes more than simply a one-dimensional cliché of the rescuing, selfless angel out to melt a cold man’s heart who masochistically casts hers aside in the process. However, similar to Lucy's character, overall, the bottom line of Dedication's success will be up to the viewers to decide whether or not they'd like to persevere in the company of Crudup's Holt for the film's entire running time.