Snow Angels

"Oh, the weather outside is frightful," but my dear,
this movie is anything but delightful.

Usually in film, if you see a gun in the first act, you know it will go off in the third. In Snow Angels, after a deceptively innocent and yet subtly tense beginning as the faculty leader of a high school marching band tries to engage his group by asking them if they have a sledgehammer in their heart to use while playing “Sledgehammer,” two gunshots ring out in the distance and stop everyone cold. Since young teenage Arthur (Forbidden Kingdom’s Michael Angarano) and his adorable photography student girlfriend Lila (Juno’s Olivia Thirlby) are present and accounted for from the start, we know they’re safe. But the question then becomes who and what has occurred in their seemingly normal, small community.

Helping to establish the film’s ominous tone aside from the sound of the shots themselves, All the Real Girls director David Gordon Green and his incredibly talented collaborative cinematographer Tim Orr (Choke) present the film’s title amidst a black background. Then, working its way into the tale as a nearly cinematic equivalent of a chamber piece of music, they introduce us to the setting with a series of innocuous imagery depicting the town as though it could be anywhere in these United States as residents go about their daily lives and we meet its incredibly small cast of characters.

In doing so, we’re driven into the past as Snow Angels’ narrative moves several weeks earlier. Yet a morbid shadow of doom lurks over the setting’s inhabitants first with Arthur’s unhappily married parents (Jeanette Arnette and Griffin Dunne) until the film fixates on the characters we instinctively know will be present in the deadly conclusion. Unfortunately, the film avoids the classical rules of Shakespeare in foreshadowing the tragedy by naming the character(s) who will perish in the Bard’s plays by listing them in the title but from the moment we first glimpse Kate Beckinsale’s struggling blue collar mom, Annie, and her estranged, off-balance husband, Glenn (Sam Rockwell), we get the sense that they will be the ones marching towards an inevitable death. And if it’s not their own, we realize it will be someone nearest to them. While the film’s trailer leads us in one direction, our director (who adapted the screenplay from Stewart O’Nan’s novel for three years for another filmmaker before he ultimately helmed the project himself), takes us in quite another.

Another independent filmmaking exercise in gloomy dysfunction, the actors are all top-notch and it’s their individual work that keeps us watching, even though we’re never entirely convinced any of the lead characters are worth caring about which—while it normally wouldn’t be a problem as cinema always offers its fair share of flawed heroes and surprisingly humane villains—in this film, it makes the final impact seem less provocative than the director had hoped.

As the primary caregiver to her toddler daughter, Beckinsale’s Annie works as a waitress in a Chinese restaurant opposite Arthur, whom she used to babysit when he was younger (which leads to some odd, flirtatious conversations as we realize the extent of Arthur’s previous crush on his old babysitter). However, while Arthur soon begins to fall for the geeky yet earnest new girl in school, Lila, Annie’s romantic life is far more unconventional as we discover her meeting the husband of her best friend and coworker Barb (Amy Sedaris) in a sleazy motel for frequent illicit trysts as one of the many items on her to-do list alongside shopping for her elderly mother.

While extramarital affairs always seem to end badly, Annie’s seems destined to explode by way of the match in Snow Angels, who is introduced fairly early on when we become acquainted with Rockwell’s Glenn. A recovering alcoholic turned ultra-devout born-again Christian, the mentally unstable Glenn who is temporarily residing with his parents, repeatedly tries to get back together with his ex, from taking his daughter for the day to arriving at Annie’s unexpectedly. When he grows increasingly obsessive and also learns of her affair, we sense that it’s only a matter of time before all of their lives intersect in a devastating showdown yet I wasn’t expecting the utter level of hellishly disturbing depression the film had in store for the audience as it kicks us hard roughly one hour in before careening towards its inevitable yet nonetheless, overwhelmingly bleak ending that puts us down for the count.

Recently released on a DVD formatted so that viewers can choose to watch it in either its original theatrical widescreen version or the television-formatted fullscreen along with various language options, it's the type of film that should come complete with a pre-approved prescription for the strongest anti-depressant on the market since essentially it is Sophie’s Choice meets In the Bedroom. Breathtakingly photographed by Tim Orr, most notably in a final scene involving the marching band as snow begins to fall, the film is saved by its actors. This is especially due to the fearless nature of Sam Rockwell who is no stranger to taking on the most awful roles imaginable and offering a surprising level of humanity to each. Yet in the end-- other than mere pity for what had happened-- I couldn’t bring myself to become that emotionally involved with such a self-involved female protagonist as the one penned for the otherwise talented Beckinsale.

And ultimately, I thought that, like Margot at the Wedding and The Savages, it was yet another indulgent indie about characters with whom we not only do not want to spend any time with in reality, but are even less interested in seeing on film. Although it’s infinitely better than the misanthropic and overwhelmingly dejecting Blindness, watching both of these films in the same week, let alone the same month, damn near turned this reviewer off film… at least for a day or so.

Who’s ready for a comedy? Obviously director David Gordon Green and Tim Orr were as well-- which may explain their choice to follow up Snow Angels with Seth Rogen and James Franco’s stoner comedy, Pineapple Express. For, when it comes to dealing with Snow, to quote Bob Dylan, "everybody must get stoned," yet I think this one will send most reaching for Prozac.

Pineapple Express (2008)

Director:
David Gordon Green


Let me lay a few images on you: 1) Environmental activist and electric car poster boy Ed Begley Jr. packing heat and dropping f-bombs like pocket change. 2) Petite Rosie Perez putting the smack down on James Franco. 3) Danny McBride baking a cake to commemorate the birthday of his dead cat. 4) Seth Rogen feeling insecure when he meets his high school girlfriend’s hot male classmate who’s wowed her, not with his muscles, but his ability to do a killer Jeff Goldblum impression.

No, my friend, these are not hallucinations. Instead, welcome to director David Gordon Green’s stoner comedy Pineapple Express, which, paying homage to Spike Lee’s term-of-choice, could be called a "Judd Apatow Joint." Emulating 70’s stoner classics from its opening credits, Express gets a much-needed credibility boost, as award-winning writer/director David Gordon Green (All the Real Girls, George Washington) and his talented cinematographer Tim Orr turn what could have been a Harold and Kumar meets Cheech and Chong rip-off into something that’s more beautifully photographed and painstakingly edited than one would assume such a comedy should be.

Yet, that’s not to say it’s George Washington 2. In producer Apatow’s Pineapple Express, "everybody must get stoned" and in the process, laugh themselves silly. That’s right, in the latest trippy offering from the informal Judd Apatow School of Comedic Filmmaking, following Knocked Up, Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story, and Superbad, co-screenwriter and star Seth Rogen plays a process server with two passions in life: weed and talk radio.

When he isn’t donning elaborate costumes to surprise his “targets” with subpoenas, Rogen’s Dale Denton can usually be found driving down the highway, joint and steering wheel in one hand, and cell phone in the other, spouting off his own life lessons to whatever unfortunate DJ happens to be on the air. Tackling every issue, from his obvious ardent support of the legalization of marijuana, to trying to justify to the world—and disbelieving audiences—his improbable relationship with Angie (Amber Heard) a pretty, eighteen year old blonde, Dale coasts through his days, seemingly without any greater ambition than receiving the perfect smoke and giving the perfect pearl of wisdom.

While the logic of Dale and Angie: The Couple, makes as much sense as Leah Remini and Kevin James on The King of Queens, Rogen and his co-writer Evan Goldberg manage to cull a great deal of unexpected humor from the situation as Dale proceeds to surprise Angie with a visit in two of the film’s funniest scenes. The first occurs early into Express, when he arrives at her high school and gets busted by faculty within minutes; then, in one of the most uproarious sequences, after he shows up, bleeding and dirty, for dinner with her parents on an evening gone horribly wrong. However, in this instance - as in every time he’s paired alongside James Franco - Rogen is instantly upstaged by Angela’s father, played by Ed Begley Jr. as an uncharacteristic and downright hysterical Clint Eastwood type, eager to unload his rifle into his daughter’s loser beau.

Why is Dale bleeding and dirty, you might ask? Well, it’s a long story, but keeping the dwindling attention spans of the target stoner crowd in mind, it can best be summed up in one name: Saul Silver. Shortly after Dale agrees to Angie's request to finally meet the parents, he predictably retreats to his loyal drug dealer’s house, to take the edge off before continuing on to deliver the rest of his assigned subpoenas.

Like Begley, by playing against type, serious Golden Globe winning actor James Franco (TV’s James Dean) manages to score the greatest laughs by seemingly channeling both Brad Pitt in True Romance and Sean Penn in Fast Times at Ridgemont High in his role as the perpetually stoned drug dealer, Saul Silver. Ridiculously clueless and desperately lonely, save for his adoration for his elderly grandmother, Saul is the type of dealer who claims "lingerers" are bummers yet when it comes to his relationship with his client of two months-- Dale-- he tries to lure him into hanging out by any means necessary.

Like most potheads, Saul’s conversation changes topics from one moment to the next, and Franco shows amazing untapped comedic potential by nailing every joke right from the start, gaining our empathy and winning us over with his portrayal of a morally questionable yet lovable loser. While he’s unable to persuade Dale into staying, either by watching The Jeffersons on one of his two televisions airing different programs simultaneously, or with his satellite radio, Dale can’t resist the chance to light Saul’s unusual “cross joint.” Additionally, while Saul pawns off low-quality fare to his less-deserving clientèle, Dale realizes that he’s been sold the first batch of high quality "Pineapple Express" pot (which Saul claims is the “dopest dope” he’s ever smoked); it’s so good that Saul explains it’s nearly a shame to smoke it since it’s “like killing a unicorn.”

Unfortunately, after Dale leaves his dealer’s apartment to serve one last subpoena, he experiences the ultimate buzz-kill when he witnesses an actual killing by sleazy drug kingpin Ted Jones (Office Space's Gary Cole) and Rosie Perez's crooked cop, Carol. During his chaotic escape, he leaves the rest of his joint at the scene of the crime, and sure enough, after discovering that Ted is Saul’s supplier, Saul and Dale have to flee their homes to outrun not only Ted and Carol, but also a duo of killers sent after the bumbling pair.

Comedic adventure ensues, and it starts out strong, with a genuinely hilarious evening spent in the woods (which goes from The Marx Brothers to The Blair Witch Project in a matter of seconds), then builds to even funnier effect when they encounter Saul’s double crossing, kimono wearing middle-man Red (a terrifically inventive Danny McBride).

But the film takes an ill-conceived turn when it replaces humor for ultra-violent action. The initial fight between Red, Dale and Saul recalls the creative high-jinks and absurdity of Cato Fong and Inspector Clouseau’s fights in the original Pink Panther movies and are excellently staged by Pineapple’s stunt coordinator Gary Hymes (Wanted, The Italian Job). The sight-gags have to be seen to be believed, as Saul jumps up and down on a portable phone in a shower, and Red hits Saul repeatedly with a dust-buster, but unfortunately, the humor and gags soon become increasingly violent.

Despite my belief that when it came to the Apatow trademark of earning its R rating to the "nth" degree, any alternative to the gross-out gags was preferable, the violence in Express crosses the line, especially in an overly long final battle that's shot to resemble a war film. Thus, much like its constantly dazed and confused characters, Pineapple Express throws the viewers off balance by the film’s constant questioning of its tone.

Green, Rogen, and Apatow never seem entirely sure whether they want to make the film a no-holds-barred action movie as homage to Tarantino, or just a buddy comedy turned “bromance,” as the relationship between Saul and Dale begins to blur the lines between comically genre-inspired homoeroticism (think Hot Fuzz and Top Gun) and the typical frat-pack feeling of similarly themed comedies such as Wedding Crashers or Talladega Nights. However, despite a funny, if far too brief performance by Rosie Perez, the film proves to be this week’s male answer to the release of The Sisterhood of The Traveling Pants 2, or as Pineapple’s sexist Red would argue, “bros before hoes.”

Coming, as it does, right off the heels of the release of Step Brothers, and just before next week’s Ben Stiller comedy, Tropic Thunder, only time will tell how reliable the attention spans of audiences will be in remembering Pineapple as an unlikely Apatow joint.

Although the films are very different and I have yet to see Tropic Thunder, the laughter at the Pineapple screening was so raucous that I know I missed half the jokes. So despite fighting an overwhelming urge to look at my watch as its final battle raged on -- based on sheer entertainment value alone -- I think I'd go back to ride the Express once more before revisiting the humorous but unusually cruel, Step Brothers again.

And overwhelmingly, the wish for a repeat viewing would be to appreciate again the awe-inspiring range of Spiderman and Tristan and Isolde’s James Franco, in a role he plays so well that it’s a shame that comedies are frequently overlooked during awards season. However, if you want more reasons, just go back and reread the opening paragraph, where the price of admission is justified right there in black and white, in case your mind (like Saul's) has begun to wander.

Shotgun Stories (2007)

Director:
Jeff Nichols

As children, we are urged to deflect insults by recalling the tried-and-true rhyme, “sticks and stones may break our bones but names will never hurt me.” However, even if we repeat that phrase until we’re blue in the face, the secret that no one ever wants to admit is that names do hurt. And still reeling from the pain, it makes us recall another childhood morality lesson, specifically that “actions speak louder than words.” In fact, it’s what we do with those actions — whether it’s as simple as turning around and walking away or striking a blow — wherein we not only reveal our true character but sometimes, whether fair or not, chart the course our lives will take.

In Shotgun Stories, writer/director Jeff Nichols’ startling and deceptively quiet filmmaking debut about a bitter feud between two families, insults and violence coincide. And more than just creating an instant visceral viewer response to the film and its inhabitants, the bleak foreshadowing and bursts of hatred makes one think just as much about what we’re not being presented onscreen. Particularly we find ourselves dwelling upon what isn’t being said or done and what may or may not have happened in the past to the wounded, struggling young men depicted throughout the film. It’s only when you realize you’re that invested in a film that your mind begins to race to understand each nuance as if somehow you can reach inside the screen to intervene or mediate that you realize you’re in the hands of a masterful storyteller.

Produced by George Washington and All the Real Girls director David Gordon Green, Nichols’ award-winning festival favorite has garnered unprecedented word-of-mouth support from such notable critics as its greatest champion, Roger Ebert. It's been frequently compared to a modern day Greek tragedy, a Shakespearean epic, biblical morality play, as well as a new spin on the legendary feud between the Hatfields and the McCoys. While every one of those parallels that have been drawn are indeed correct, one realizes more than anything and only within a few moments of Shotgun Stories, that this story is so effective because it's painted using many of the same brushstrokes as numerous other Southern Gothic morality plays, where the sparsely populated canvas is filled with wide open spaces and the dialogue is lean, muscular and only employed when absolutely necessary.

Not to mention there’s something about Nichols’ work that feels as though it could only happen in the United States as the sense that an American tragedy looms heavily as soon as we witness our main character, Son Hayes (Michael Shannon), a fish farm employee with a weakness for gambling, change his shirt to reveal that the overly scarred skin on his back resembles a bullet strewn battlefield. Additionally, upon discovering that the formerly abusive, drunk father who’d abandoned him and his two brothers had passed away, we realize that the father took the American opportunity of a second chance to become a born-again Christian, quit the bottle, and start a whole new family with four sons he’s doted on who live nearby in far better condition than Son’s discarded brood.

While the bitter mother who raised them refuses to go to the funeral, Son and his other apathetically named brothers, the loyal, sweet natured Boy (Douglas Ligon) who coaches children’s basketball and lives in a van overlooking the river, and the youngest brother Kid (Barlow Jacobs) make an appearance wherein, fueled by so many years of resentment and anger, Son curses his biological father and spits on his grave. In this volatile combination of insult and action, a war is declared by the four newest Hayes boys who consider Son, Boy, and Kid to be “a pack of dogs” without manners and they’re all too eager to get revenge.

What begins as a series of hard stares, dangerous pranks, and macho confrontations soon escalates into inevitable violence and although we’re prepared for it early on, it still comes as a shock when the boys start trying to one-up each other with an eye for an eye. Interestingly playing off that biblical warning that soon everyone will be blind, Nichols introduces us to a Shakespearean clown-like character named Shampoo (G. Alan Wilkins). He initially seems to be a laughable slacker but gradually grows into first an observer of the increasing rivalry but also an outside agitator as he not only eggs them on by reporting gossip overheard from the new brothers to the old ones but also in a climactic moment teaches one angry brother how to prepare a shotgun.

Still, admirably, much like the dialogue that is only offered when it’s crucial, the director isn’t one to revel in violence or go overboard in too much symbolism, which is quite a feat for a new filmmaker and especially one who’s following in the footsteps of such a rich historical tradition of classical tales of familial revenge. In the end it’s another one of those excellent, underrated independent films that may otherwise go unnoticed if it weren’t for its tremendous success earning awards and nominations from festivals across the country.

Impressively, Shotgun Stories feels far more naturalistic and real than most Hollywood films which deal with revenge-based violence and benefits from not only stellar acting especially by scene stealer Ligon in a heartbreaking role but also for its crisp cinematography which is punctuated by a nice, subtle score that becomes all the more apparent on repeat viewings, especially considering that the DVD offers an option to watch Shotgun Stories with a music only track from the band Lucero and composer, musician Ben Nichols. Featuring a photo gallery as well as trailers and an insightful audio commentary from writer/director Jeff Nichols, Shotgun Stories is one sleeper you won’t want to miss and one that — much like the effects of a shot — will probably continue to ricochet as more viewers discover this hidden work I highly recommend.