Movie Review: Elizabeth Harvest (2018)

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We open on an eye – Elizabeth Harvest’s eye – newly awakened but taking in her surroundings as if still in a dream, as her romantic voice-over reveals.

A new bride being stolen away to her husband's "secret world," the image of the beautiful Elizabeth (Abbey Lee) in a car being driven by her husband (Ciarán Hinds) on the edge of a cliff on a lonely mountain road is idyllic only for an instant. But as her voice drops away, the shot expands, recalling the opening credits of Kubrick’s The Shining and an ending that's anything but happily ever after.

And the fact that, upon carrying his decades younger bride across the threshold, the wealthy older widowed scientist Henry (Hinds) gleefully points out out that they’re "participating in a kidnapping ritual," only adds to our sense of foreboding as does the fact that he's often framed above her in a powerful position as if he's a teacher ready to scold.

Pulling back from the happy couple to unveil the household staff, including the cryptic housekeeper Claire (played by the always compelling Carla Gugino) and the loyal, blind, obedient Oliver (Matthew Beard), Venezuelan writer/director Sebastian Gutierrez follows up his allusion to Kubrick with a structural nod to Hitchcock’s Rebecca in his sumptuous slow burn spin on the French fairy tale Bluebeard.

Frequently translated to film, it's a work that even Hitchcock himself couldn't resist adapting with Cary Grant in the lead in Suspicion, which studio head David O. Selznick sanitized in a happy ending which took place on a lonely mountainous road that could've doubled for the one at the start of this film.

Determined to tell you a story you know both in a way (and within a world) that you don't, Gutierrez blurs the edges of Gothic romance, science fiction, and suspense in this genre blended experimental effort.

Not interested in making Brides Dead Revisited (sorry, I couldn't resist), in a progressive change of pace, our unusual eponymous lead not only fuels the bulk of the increasingly complicated mystery but is also given more than a fighting chance to take on whatever crosses her path.

Leading her through his labyrinthine estate early on into the film in a sequence that echoes the fairy tale, Henry explains to Elizabeth that much like him, her thumbprint is the only passkey she'll need to enter any one of the luxurious rooms on the premises, before that is, he stresses that the only room she must promise never to go in is the one so bright it gives off a bridal diamond-like glow.

Dazzling her with the sheer amount of jewelry and fashion she now has at her disposal, while Elizabeth is understandably overwhelmed, we're not only curious as to the origins of their unlikely relationship but also distracted by the suspicious clues that production designer Diana Trujillo, art director Francisco Arbelaez, and set decorator Juliana Barreto Barreto have hidden in plain sight.

Perhaps foreshadowing Henry's nefarious intentions and the way he sees his bride in the predatory art that hangs on the wall alongside some of the primal objects littered throughout, since the film is set in and around one location, it's intriguing to note the ways in which our relationship to the darkly lit rooms evolve over the course of its running time.

Subconsciously linking the brightly lit room to sexual desire, Henry kisses her passionately within range of the warm glow. Told to be "a good girl" by a man old enough to be her father, we know what's coming even before he turns around as, much like Pandora and the box, when Henry leaves for the day, the mystery room is one place she’s bound to go to "be bad."

Turning the fairy tale on its head, while of course, the entry to the room places Elizabeth in peril, it also resets the narrative in an ingenious way at the same time by giving the audience (and additionally our viewer surrogate, Elizabeth) a startlingly vital clue to a puzzle that will take the rest of the film's running time to solve.

In doing so, it relies rather extensively on the introduction of a character’s diary as well as substantial expositional dialogue in order to help untangle the ambitious web woven throughout. But fittingly, just like the many twist filled books and films that must've influenced the work from Frankenstein to Brian De Palma's '70s and '80s tales of Hitchcockian obsession and beyond, Harvest practically demands a second viewing to help make sense of it all.

Hindered slightly by a noticeable lack in tension once a major obstacle is cleared from our heroine’s path, although the last two acts could've benefited from tighter editing as we process the film's extended flashbacks to catch up, to both the filmmaker's credit as well as the sensational cast, we remain fascinated throughout.

Giving his longtime love (and one of my favorite actors) Carla Gugino one of her best roles in years, in past productions we've often looked to the empathetic Gugino to help guide us in an uneasy situation or take the temperature of the room. Fighting against that, Harvest tests Gugino’s range (not to mention her potential as a poker player) by asking her to reveal little and instead stay relatively still.

Unable to read various responses from a side eye to a laugh the "right" way early on, Gugino's character and her relationship to Lee's blank slate-like lead makes the most sense in hindsight, similar to the way that Christopher Nolan's Memento uncovered different sides of the performance by Carrie-Anne Moss both in retrospect and as the film went on.

Enhancing the dreamlike feel established in Lee's voice-over early on, Gutierrez and his longtime cinematographer Cale Finot move away from the ethereal light of Harvest's beginning by placing a painterly emphasis on bright primary and secondary color contrasts and chiaroscuro to offset the darkness throughout.

Ideally suited to play alongside this year's other brilliant Gothic fairy tale release via Matt Pearce's Beast, from Elizabeth Harvest's use of homage to the way it puts its source material through a genre blender before bringing it into the twenty-first century, Gutierrez's exceptionally well-made opus is as creatively daring as it is wondrously told.

Text ©2018, Film Intuition, LLC; All Rights Reserved. http://www.filmintuition.com Unauthorized Reproduction or Publication Elsewhere is Strictly Prohibited and in violation of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act.  FTC Disclosure: Per standard professional practice, I may have received a review copy or screener link of this title in order to voluntarily decide to evaluate it for my readers, which had no impact whatsoever on whether or not it received a favorable or unfavorable critique. Cookies Notice: This site incorporates tools (including advertiser partners and widgets) that use cookies and may collect some personal information in order to display ads tailored to you etc. Please be advised that neither Film Intuition nor its site owner has any access to this data beyond general site statistics (geographical region etc.) as your privacy is our main concern.

Blu-ray Review: The Humbling (2014)

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The Humbling opens with what must be the actor's version of a student's nightmare of showing up in school naked, late, and unprepared for a big test.

But instead of a test, the play's the thing in Barry Levinson's adaptation of Philip Roth's thirtieth and final novel as shortly into the movie, Al Pacino's over-the-hill actor with an axe to grind ― aptly named Simon Axler ― gives in to the nightmare and surrenders, falling not onto his own sword but onto the ground of the theater in an epic faceplant.

No doubt feeling a connection to the material that centers around the existential crisis of a charismatic actor who fears he's losing his gift as well as his sanity, Pacino ― who purchased the rights to the book years ago ― is predictably terrific in the part.

The problem is that the picture, which was shot in mere bits and pieces to accommodate the star's busy schedule, feels as chaotic and unstable as our unreliable narrator's mind.

While the episodic nature of the source material is partly to blame for the similarly episodic film that's forever changing in tone, it's the job of director (and uncredited scripter) Levinson and co-writers Buck Henry and Michal Zebede to find the best way to translate Roth's work to the screen.

Bearing more in common with a television miniseries than a book, a stage play, or a cohesive feature (despite its modest running time), the film is bolstered by the stellar supporting cast including a fine effort by Greta Gerwig in a similarly undefined role as a starstruck lustful lesbian siren who sees in the aged Axler the marquee man of her adolescent dreams.

Unfortunately, it wastes the talent of Rob the Mob scene stealer and Tony winner Nina Arianda and Emmy winner Kyra Sedgwick ― both of whom seem like they wandered in from the sets of two entirely different pictures shooting nearby.

Yet while The Humbling is guilty of losing its plot almost as much as its main character does, it still has its moments of daffy comedic brilliance.

One such highlight ― a romantic intervention led by Oscar winning Woody Allen dramedy veteran Dianne Wiest that takes place in a veterinarian's office ― is so delightfully off-the-wall that it makes you wish it would've served as the jumping off point for a whole new screenplay designed to illuminate the untapped comedic potential of Pacino who shines opposite Weist.

And indeed, it's scenes like that reaffirm the brilliance of character driven storytelling that both Levinson and Henry have done so well in the past (via Rain Man and To Die For respectively).

Still in the end, The Humbling is best appreciated as a humble, experimental hat-tip to the sanity testing calling of a thespian who'd rather die on the stage than be asked to live a life off of it ― stuck somewhere in limbo as both spectator and star without the adrenaline shot of thunderous applause.
   

Text ©2014, Film Intuition, LLC; All Rights Reserved. http://www.filmintuition.com Unauthorized Reproduction or Publication Elsewhere is Strictly Prohibited and in violation of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act.  FTC Disclosure: Per standard professional practice, I may have received a review copy of this title in order to voluntarily decide to evaluate it for my readers, which had no impact whatsoever on whether or not it received a favorable or unfavorable critique.

Blu-ray Review: Changing Lanes (2002)

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Obviously it’s an understatement to say that life is full of contradictions but an especially challenging one is trying to figure out when to remain still and when to fight back.

It’s a lesson that’s extraordinarily hard to pass on to the next generation—wanting to ensure that they don’t become violent bullies but at the same time (or at least it my point-of-view) reminding them that if they are being struck, it’s definitely okay to stand up for themselves. Provided, that is, that any physical response they make to defend themselves is purely in self defense. But, as we all know when tempers flare-- lines get crossed fast and the victim can become a bully shortly after the first punch is thrown.



Filmmaker Roger Michell’s Changing Lanes—a cinematic representation of an angry moral minefield—raises all of these contradictions and questions shortly after the film begins when two men with completely different backgrounds (both undergoing an overwhelming amount of stress) collide in a traffic accident during the a.m. rush hour on New York’s FDR drive.



Intriguingly, we discover that both men are on their way to settle legal situations. On the one hand we have Samuel L. Jackson as a recovering alcoholic Doyle Gipson who's preparing for his last plea to the family court judge to receive visitation rights to his children. And to balance out the equation, Gipson is matched with Ben Affleck’s smooth-talking yuppie Gavin Banek who is on his way to present an important series of documents in an ethically shady case that’s netted his law firm a ridiculous sum of money.



While it’s Affleck’s speeding Banek that crashes into Gipson, the two begin go through all of the motions they’re supposed to as responsible citizens by trading insurance information and ensuring the other person is okay. However, while Gipson wants to do everything by the book—Banek’s patience wears thin after a few seconds of requisite cordiality before his privileged sense of upper class entitlement and legal ease takes over. After he tries buy off Gipson with a blank check for the damage done to his vehicle, he feels his work is done and-- ignoring Gipson's request for a ride-- Banek leaves the scene of the accident with the thoughtless comment, “better luck next time.”



Although most audience members by now would simply assume that Banek is the villain and Gipson the unlucky hero—both men prove in their subsequent responses over the course of a very long, sinister Good Friday that they’re more than willing to bully and push back. And in doing so, each one ratchets up the level of pain in actions that go well beyond self defense into the realm of deadly serious attacks.

To their credit-- especially since the film is already a bit overly exaggerated and heavy-handed as it is-- filmmaker Michell and his screenwriters Chap Taylor and The Player scribe Michael Tolkin genuinely make an effort to sidestep any major “black and white” racial overtones, aside from one killer scene where Jackson gets the chance to deliver one of his trademark long monologues to two racist strangers while discussing his idea of a perfect Tiger Woods ad.

Yet—and despite the fact that from the earliest scenes the characters are presented on the surface as generic stereotypes (of both “race” and “class”)—Affleck and Jackson bring a great amount of layers to the roles that find them playing decidedly against type. To this end in both the press notes and behind-the-scenes documentaries, the former acknowledged he’d never had the opportunity to really act prior to this film (following Pearl Harbor up with Lanes) and the latter enjoyed the opportunity to play an uncool, unhip square for once.

However, the racial inequities, class struggles, religious symbolism of Good Friday and idea that both men were different levels of ethically ticking time bombs are laced throughout. Although on the surface they appear to have nothing in common—on that particular day when their vehicles and lives intersected and we realize they had an obscene amount to lose, their similar natures come out. As a result, they go into urban warfare using everything at their disposal when Banek tries to manipulate Gipson into giving back an important legal file he accidentally left in his hurried escape from the traffic accident and is too impatient to just meet up and talk things out.



However, life in an untouchable skyscraper gives Banek the edge to seriously destroy at will in an effort to save his career, marriage, and reputation when the file isn’t immediately returned. And although his former lover and colleague (Toni Collette) stars as his “conscience,” she also provides him with the contact information of a man (Dylan Baker) who can speed up the recovery process by taking a white-collar criminal approach to ruining Gipson.



It’s once this particular cyber attack is leveled in destroying Gipson financially that the film (which had already been moving from angry towards ferocious) becomes downright psychopathic and mean-spirited as a sort of twenty-first century version of Falling Down. And accordingly, the men take their frustrations out on each other in the most reprehensible of ways involving frightening Gipson’s children and nearly killing Banek on the road.

At its surface, of course, it's meant to illustrate the lesson that we never know exactly what’s going on in another human being’s life at any given moment. Yet, what started as an ingenious if obviously magnified and slightly dubious thriller of rage-fueled revenge gone wild instead falters given the exaggerated circumstances of the men and consequently turns into an absolutely repugnant depiction of attack and counter-attack run amok.



However, this being said, Lanes was critically lauded upon its initial release for its provocative approach and unabashed depiction of the very worst urges lurking in the hearts of men. Despite this, I feel pretty confident in the assumption that the film would not have been nearly as well received if Michell and his writers hadn’t tacked on a protracted penance filled ending which simply appears out of nowhere like a speeding car as the filmmaker’s attempt to crash some semblance of hope into the narrative.



Bolstered by a brilliant concept and terrific performances—especially by Jackson, Collette, and Sydney Pollack as Affleck’s boss and father in law—the film manages to push well past plausibility and audience empathy for the characters in its grueling final act in its transformations of two ordinary men who become the worst of bullies, never sure if and when they should step back and call a truce or just pummel each other beyond recognition.



And it’s in this strange attempt at marrying these two conclusions after we’ve just experienced one horrific event after another to the point that we no longer care about Banek or Gipson (or honestly 90% of the film’s cast) that made me question the filmmakers motive for Lanes as anything more than just in the end a clunky grown-up version of an after-school special.



Aside from the heavy-handed Good Friday religious symbolism that pervades, the work had enormous potential as a definite morality play set in contemporary America. In fact, seeing the film again now in a world where it seems that every week another citizen goes off the deep end and causes violent chaos in a gory shoot-out, it’s even timelier today than it was in 2002.

However, simplicity instead of exaggeration should’ve been the goal of those involved to try and make the two characters even remotely relatable or worth the investment, in lieu of depositing them in elaborate “schemes” and only-in-Hollywood plot points.



For this is especially the case as it concludes disappointingly with a reaffirmation of the same two stereotypes of the men that had opened the picture rather than making us feel that-- despite the excellent turns of the men portraying them-- Banek and Gipson had really changed all that much after all. Thus, Lane’s “happy ending” is damned in the end because it isn’t genuinely earned in the least as anything over than a convenient screenwriting contrivance.

With the theatrical trailer being the only special feature upgraded to high definition, we’re treated to the familiar yet interesting behind-the-scenes making-of-featurettes the include interviews with the cast and crew, an extended scene and deleted ones. Likewise, it contains a feature length commentary track by the director who-- after Lanes-- moved his career into far creepier territory with the eerie Enduring Love and excellent yet disturbing film The Mother (both of which starred the man who would become James Bond a.k.a. Daniel Craig).

Of particular interest to fellow writers would be the “Writer’s Perspective” extra that includes some insights from Michael Tolkin who was brought into work on the completed screenplay (always a sign that Wonder Boys, The Hours, and No Country for Old Men super producer Scott Rudin knew it was in trouble at the structural stage).

The Blu-ray itself is of excellent quality with first-rate sound throughout in one of the best Paramount soundtracks included on their slate of impressive 5/19 Blu-ray releases (that also included 3 Days of the Condor, Paycheck, Enemy at the Gates, and The Machinist) and a very sharply defined visual presentation that adds extra clarity to some of the tight, boxed-in shots, rapid-cuts, and darkly lit scenes.

Heightening that sense of feeling like a caged claustrophobic victim-- the Blu-ray completely pulls you in with an exceptional transfer of the unique production design and visual style, even if at times you'll have to remind yourself that there's no one you can push back amidst the chaos since after all, it's only just a film.