TV on DVD: Mistresses: Volume One (2008)

Own the BBC Hit On DVD

Bookmark this on Delicious

Print Page





With May releases finding me up to my eyeballs in paranoia (Falling Down, Changing Lanes, Paycheck, 3 Days of the Condor, etc.)-- aside from the amount of Father's Day tie-in sports and action related titles (Miracle, The Greatest Game Ever Played, Burn Notice Season 2), June has found things heating up considerably.

Over the past few weeks I've been consumed by infidelity-- on-screen of course-- as this polite native Midwestern gal is shy enough as it is chatting with single men let alone volunteering for extra drama.

While Adrian Lyne's Blu-ray double feature of Indecent Proposal and Fatal Attraction relished in showing the complexities of infidelity whether or not the partner is aware and I found myself especially fascinated and much more appreciative of Indecent Proposal as a high-quality soap opera this time around, more often than not the portrayals of cheaters on film and especially in the characterizations of the women who become mistresses are often of the shrill, irrational, potentially dangerous, and monstrously cliched variety of watered down versions of Glenn Close's masterful turn as Alex Forrest in Fatal Attraction.

Of course, on the other end of the spectrum-- we have infidelity for laughs or salacious satire in the formerly brilliant Desperate Housewives that took a plunge after its second season as it began to lather, rinse, and repeat so much that it finally embraced the fact that it jumped the shark by making a literal jump in time for the most recent season.

Yet thankfully, once again we have to leave it to the BBC to produce high quality and fully three-dimensional brainy, escapist, and emotionally charged soap operas such as the wildly successful smash Mistresses which has aired in nearly every country around the globe (yes even in Russia, Serbia, and Israel) yet unfortunately-- just like their other most recent brilliant romantic comedy series Gavin & Stacey, I've just learned that an American remake of Mistresses is in the works for the Fall of '09 TV lineup.

However--The Office, of course not withstanding-- given the abysmal failure of other UK shows when they get watered down for American audiences such as Cracker, Coupling, and the other remake from Mistresses creator S.J. Clarkson (UK's hugely successful Life on Mars)-- hopefully we won't have to suffer the substitute very long. And thus we can stick with the superior original that honestly should be just played in the prime-time lineup instead of a new rehash.

Actually making a joke about "bunny-boilers" a la Alex Forrest in its critically lauded two season run which has been released by Warner Brothers and BBC America to viewers on this side of the pond-- the tight-knit group of four friends prove within the very first episode that there's nothing cliched or stereotypical about them.

While on the surface, easily the most beautiful and free-spirited "mistress"-- the young Jessica (Shelley Conn) seems like a BBC version of Kim Cattrall's Samantha Jones from Sex and the City with the replacement of PR with party planning. Yet soon the bed-hopping Jessica who has no qualms about life without commitments or attachments is thrown for a loop when she comes face to face with a relationship she actually respects after she's hired to organize the upcoming wedding of a committed lesbian couple.

Finally she realizes that life shagging her boss Simon (Adam Astill-- with whom Conn shares a great series-long Hepburn and Tracy banter) is growing old. And when one of the engaged clients-- the lovely photographer Alex (Fringe's Anna Torv)-- sparks with Jessica unexpectedly, she's left reeling, wondering not only about the prospect of romance with women but also when Alex sees right through her tough facade and questions Jessica's continuous decision to under-value herself in a perpetual role as the second choice or second phone call of any given lover.



And although Jessica's character grows infinitely more complicated and likable as the series continues which shows the deft skill of the writers to let the women of Mistresses evolve in the most unexpected of ways, right off the bat, it's the character of Katie (Sarah Parish) who instantly captivates viewers.

A successful, empathetic, and genuinely thoughtful general practitioner-- within the start of the first episode, we realize that the womens' joking question of "sex, love or kids?" is a no-brainer for Katie. Soon we understand that the woman's every action revolves around love whether it's romantic, platonic, or simply humanistic as off-screen she helps a terminally ill patient die with dignity, only for us to ascertain shortly thereafter that-- aside from being just a patient-- the man was also her married lover for two years.

Left sitting near the back of the church and having to maintain a level of simple and straightforward professional concern as opposed to being able to grieve openly like the man's widow-- Katie is challenged when the deceased man's college age son Sam Grey (Max Brown) arrives unexpectedly after having taken a leave of absence from school.

Embittered and angry that he wasn't there to see his father's final moments, Sam begins paying routine visits to Katie for information-- increasingly determined to unmask the woman with whom his father had been involved after he found an anonymous love note in the man's burial suit jacket pocket.

When his suspicions that Katie was the lover are replaced by his own attraction to the doctor whom he shamelessly pursues with the intensity typical of his twenty-four years-- the vulnerable, confused, and still grieving Katie is caught between what is morally right and an equal interest in Sam. It's this harsh confrontation of an existential dilemma which surrounds Katie for the first several episodes since she's uncertain whether this could be a valid and genuine attraction for him on his own or if she's reacting to a lack of closure she'd never received regarding the death of his father.



Torn as well between commitment, duty, and temptation-- Orla Brady's unexpectedly riveting turn as Siobhan is perhaps the show's most controversial one as it evolves over the course of two seasons. As the only main character who's happily married-- the overworked lawyer on the path to partner at her law firm-- Siobhan finds that stress isn't left behind when she leaves the office. For lately, life in the bedroom has become part of her work routine as she and her doting husband Hari (Raza Jeffrey) try in exhaustion to conceive a child.

Abandoning romance and replacing the love part of making love with the mechanics and talk of what is scientifically most beneficial in trying to impregnate Siobhan as their labor continuously fails to bear fruit-- the tension between them inevitably grows. Likewise, as things cool down in the bedroom, they heat up at work given her flirtation with a loyal colleague (Adam Rayner) who's never hidden his puppy dog crush on Siobhan which escalates to life-altering results.

Yet while Siobhan's domestic life is a mess-- for the sweet natured maternal Trudi (Sharon Small), her home life taking care of two young daughters is all the drama and comedy she needs. A 9/11 widow still trying to resign herself to the idea that her husband is actually dead which isn't done any favors by suspicious and frequent phone calls and a sense of being followed-- Trudi finds romance a pleasant and rather unexpected distraction when a handsome single father (Patrick Baladi) asks her out for coffee.

Although Siobhan and Katie urge Trudi to get back in the dating scene since she's been a celibate widow for six years, Jessica fears the worst since Trudi's relationship with the newly arrived Richard coincides with her receipt of the UK's 9/11 fund check which is worth the equivalent of a million U.S. dollars.

Deliciously addictive and constantly surprising-- elevated by a refreshingly non-judgmental and objective approach to the women and the impossible situations in which they find themselves over the course of two seasons (with all 12 episodes contained in this slim packaged 4-DVD set), it's one superb offering. And its quality is apparent right from the start given the attention to authenticity and the presentation of psychologically believable characters from the series creators Lowri Glain and SJ Clarkson (who was also responsible for the wildly acclaimed Life on Mars and popular Hustle).

With a pitch perfect cast that ensures that you fully engage and empathize with their characters even when admittedly you find yourself shouting back at the screen in frustration or even anger when they make mistakes or do something that you feel is beneath them-- overall Mistresses is effective precisely for that reason.



Namely it makes us take a closer look at why four exceptionally bright women would find themselves in some overwhelmingly disastrous situations (some of their own making and some just a matter of horrific circumstance) by always avoiding the American temptation to insert a moral, a speech a la a Carrie Bradshaw voice-over or the Mary Alice narration of Desperate Housewives and instead Mistresses demands viewer intellectual participation the entire way.

And as a recent viewer, I can guarantee that it's a gamble that pays off brilliantly. The series consistently keeps you keep watching one episode right after another like the type of high quality soap we'd love to see as a guilty pleasure but one that actually takes the time to develop very complicated storylines, characters who sometimes get on our bad sides, and stellar production values that all contribute to the work as in a color design for each character (that changes as well as they do) by helping us adapt quicker on a subconscious level to the intricate and demanding situations right from the get-go.



Additionally it gets bonus points for making sure that-- unlike Housewives and SATC-- the men aren't shortchanged as well since it provides ample fodder for male actors to play a variety of roles that move easily from confidence to vulnerability to sexy leading men which is extremely rare in the chick-flick, soap opera or rom-com genres. Although arguably it's The International and Office star Patrick Baladi who has the most scenes and the most easily rewarding role as Trudi's Richard, the extremely well cast Raza Jeffrey as the emotive Hari who goes from anger to sadness like a smoldering James Dean when Siobhan frequently and unintentionally toys with his emotions and Jessica's ideal conversational sparring partner Adam Astill as Simon make Mistresses such a standout in a sea of far too similar post Sex and the City and Desperate Housewives works.

Fortunately it's been given a great transfer to DVD by BBC America and Warner Brothers. The set also including cast interviews and conversations with the women and then the men separately on the show's recurring topic of "sex, lies and infidelity" and a making of featurette that adds to each individual season. And while my research indicated that possibly a third season is in the works, viewers looking for television of superior quality during the summer months won't do any better than picking up Mistresses which is so impressive, entertaining, and brilliantly executed that it's almost sinful.

Website Exclusive: Valentine's Day Promotion from Film Movement

This Valentine's Day, Leave the Cliches Behind.

Are you looking for a fresh alternative to chocolates, perfume, roses, and stuffed animals?

How about a romantic trip around the world?

Now, exclusively available to Film Intuition Readers, you're eligible to receive 20% off memberships to Film Movement.

Click the banner below to learn more.

And to take advantage of this amazing opportunity courtesy of Film Movement and Film Intuition, once you find your ideal new membership, enter in this coupon code to receive 20% off from now up through February 15th:

Intuition20

Bookmark this on Delicious

Print Page



Featured everywhere from InStyle to The New York Times to Oprah, Film Movement's DVD-of-the-Month Club brings first-run feature films from the world's most prestigious festivals right to your door.

No need to update your passport, brave the crowds at film festivals, or learn another language-- Film Movement has you covered-- highlighting the best and the brightest offerings from around the globe.

The Mission of the Movement:

"Many small but deserving films get squeezed out of theaters by Hollywood blockbusters and face skyrocketing marketing costs that make it impossible to reach appreciative audiences. We created Film Movement to address this problem. Film Movement’s mission is to put its films in front of the largest possible audience. To meet this challenge Film Movement aggressively pursues all channels of film distribution including theatrical, institutional, television, retail, rental, in flight, on demand, and our first of its kind DVD of the month club subscription service."

While no genre is left behind, this Valentine's Day, explore Film Movement's Romantic Side with some of these tremendous offerings (note: discount doesn't apply to individual titles):

Agata and the Storm

Learn More

Own It



Arranged

Learn More

Own It



Be With Me

Learn More

Own It



Buddy

Learn More

Own It



Ginger and Cinnamon

Learn More

Own It



The Grocer's Son

Learn More

Own It



Monster Thursday

Learn More

Own It



The Rage in Placid Lake

Learn More

Own It



The Republic of Love

Learn More

Own It

Read All Of Our Film Movement Reviews to Learn More About These Wonderful Titles

Code: Intuition20

Nights in Rodanthe (2008)

Related Review:
Nicholas Sparks Limited Edition DVD Collection (7 Films!)

Director: George C. Wolfe

Thankfully having never staged an intervention before, I’m unaware on how one would begin, save for what I’ve seen onscreen where the unsuspecting “target” (or “subject” to be more politically correct) is invited to someone’s neutral location like a living room and prevented to leave before their friends and relatives have spoken their mind regarding the subject’s destructive behavior. Above all, it’s about making the subject realize that it’s time to change and/or seek help… or at least, that’s how it goes down on television. My problem is, having never met the author Nicholas Sparks, I doubt I could somehow finagle him into meeting me—and several readers and viewers—at a neutral location without alarming the poor man and becoming the target of authorities so the next best thing I have is the internet. Thus, we have with this unorthodox review a.k.a an open intervention for Mr. Sparks.

While the remarkable beauty of his work is undisputed and I especially loved his earlier offerings like The Notebook and Message in a Bottle, finally I had to stop reading. And this was not just because they were growing increasingly easy to predict as they all concern a great, passionate love wherein one character dies not to mention that universal equalizer of karma kicks in to kill off a character who has dared to love again after tragic events but also because they’re just so damned depressing.

I realize the cathartic need and justification in literature for depressing works of art—hell, my favorite novel is The Great Gatsby after all and I pride myself on having read nearly every major American literary classic (and a great deal of ones from around the globe), several of which end horrifically. (Hello, Ethan Frome!) Yet, there’s just something unrelentingly manipulative and especially tragic about the literary offerings of Sparks.

And after discovering via his website the vast amount of tragedy the poor man has suffered in his own life and as someone who has experienced tragedy as well, I received a greater empathetic window into his world and understand that a major reason it’s a recurring theme in his oeuvre is because it’s most likely his way to de-stress and work through his own devastation and ups and downs. Although when I also learned he was a former pharmacist, I began wondering what would happen if he went on the happy pills for at least a month. And if drugs aren’t the answer as I don’t want to inflict the wrath of Tom Cruise—then what about the unceasing medicinal power of laughter, of injecting at least a few more pleasant surprises and humorous moments than merely the obligatory wisecracking best friend that the wasted Viola Davis plays in Nights in Rodanthe?

However, if not for his audience or for him, than I must ask from one writer to another-- doesn’t one of his characters deserve a happy ending? He cares enough about the lives he creates to post a poll to visitors on his site asking whom their favorite Sparks hero or heroine is but the poll would be far more rewarding if those same characters were given more than a fleeting chance at happiness and a swift kick into the harsh devastation of a Sparks finale.

Hey, and if for no other reason, maybe by throwing us a curve ball of a happy ending, the works would suddenly become much more addictive again since we’ve realized we can’t simply depend on the fact we’ll figure it out long before we hit the final page or frame in a film. After all, greatness isn’t measured by how many Kleenex you can sell but by the longevity of the works and let’s just say that—even as a lover of the women’s weepy films made by the late great Douglas Sirk in the 1950s-- I have absolutely no desire to ever read The Notebook nor see the film upon which it was based ever again.

I admit to having stopped reading a few years back so I could be misinformed and if so I apologize. However, simply judging by the cinematic adaptations and the reaction on the general population, it’s high time to put a mini-moratorium on the Dickensian finales, Mr. Sparks. For, by now, they are so easy to predict that a majority of us were able to guess the concluding death in his latest work to make it to the big screen in director George C. Wolfe and screenwriters Ann Peacock and John Romano’s Nights in Rodanthe just from the trailer alone (view the trailer).

To be fair, cinematically, this one is far superior to The Notebook. And while I did find myself—albeit trying to remain strong in the press section—shedding tears not once but three times throughout the duration, despite my accurate prediction of the finale and the obvious manipulation of the production, it benefits more than any of his other filmed versions simply because of its star Diane Lane.

In her finest performance since her Academy nominated turn in Unfaithful (also opposite Rodanthe’s Richard Gere), she plays the struggling mother Adrienne Willis. Still reeling from her beloved father’s death and a separation from her unfaithful husband Jack (Christopher Meloni) who had an affair with someone in her carpool, she packs her kids including her Harry Potter clone son Danny (Charlie Tahan) and rebellious goth girl Amanda (Mae Whitman) off to Orlando with her ex.

Wanting an escape-- even one that comes with a fair warning that hurricanes are in the forecast, Adrienne returns to the Outer Banks coastal town of Rodanthe, North Carolina to care for the inn of her friend, Jean (Viola Davis). Adrienne’s hurried preparations to leave her troubled, chaotic life behind her are interspersed with the same actions by the only guest paid up for four days in Rodanthe, Dr. Paul Flanner (Richard Gere) who, having sold his home, throws a duffel bag filled with Spanish/English medical texts into his sports car and drives off to Rodanthe to deal with a tragedy of his own.

Exquisitely photographed, the picturesque setting of Rodanthe is a character in its own right and none more so than the beautiful clapboard and blue shutter old inn by the sea, where rumor has it in the form of an old pirate legend, wild horses every so often can be seen running free on the sandy beach. Gee, do you think we see any?

While it’s awkward at first as Adrienne cooks, cleans and tends to her one guest, Paul breaks the ice on the first night by carrying his dinner into the kitchen to mingle with the lovely stranger over wine, Dinah Washington, and stories of their heartache.

The chemistry between Gere and Lane is phenomenal and it’s more than obvious to even the most casual viewer who was unfamiliar with the two or their shared history working together, how comfortable they are in each other’s company. Yet, this is both a plus and a minus in Rodanthe. They bond much too quickly as Adrienne begins unloading all of her baggage right from the get-go in a way that would send most men running and despite the power of wine, mood music, evening l’amour, and the right lighting, they click far too easily, seeming like old lovers rather than new tentative ones. And possibly it’s because of this that Gere never fully settles into his role-- maybe feeling as though (even subconsciously) that it’s a cinematic extension of their other work together and they’re just finishing a conversation begun in earlier movies.

However, enough cannot be said in favor of Lane who turns Sparks’ overly sentimental moments (and some extraordinarily tacky dialogue) into the stuff of Shakespeare and none more so than, near the end of the film in a scene following a conversation with James Franco when she not only cries (along with the rest of the audience for the ten millionth time) but tears into that crying jag authentically in a way that makes us feel not just guilty for watching but wishing we were there to comfort her in her obvious pain. That-- my friends-- is an actress, and Lane just keeps getting better and better with each passing year, despite the fact that her roles are getting fewer and far more predictable, in the unfair and ageist Hollywood system.

While the film could’ve benefited from sharper editing as it feels much, much, much longer than its ninety-seven minutes and you’ll need to come armed with Kleenex, cinematically it’s one of the better Sparks adaptations, and the reason is purely Lane. Although, as great as she is at making us cry, it would be far more pleasurable to once see her laugh. Nicholas Sparks are you listening? Or more importantly is your keyboard?

Read the Book
&
Check out the Soundtrack

Marigold

Ali Larter Goes Bollywood...

I must admit that I’m not sure why Ali Larter isn’t a bigger star. I mean yes, of course, she earned her big cinematic break playing a Varsity Blues bimbo but she made intelligent choices thereafter with the cult teen scarefest Final Destination. And despite a Hollywood absence for a few years to take a break from the sex-kitten characters being offered her way (Allure, 7/08), she’s rebounded much better than other late ’90s starlets who also first portrayed bimbos, such as American Pie’s Shannon Elizabeth. I guess, in retrospect, Larter and her fans should be grateful that she doesn’t have Elizabeth’s primarily straight-to-DVD career but the potential for Larter is undeniable.
Case in point: before her TV series Heroes “jumped the shark,” you couldn’t open a magazine without press covering it with multi-page spreads and articles, yet all the ink spilled seemed to surround the likable, funny Japanese newcomer Masi Oka’s Hiro and Hayden Panettiere’s perky “Save the Cheerleader, Save the World” character. Yet, honestly, while the sunny young Panettiere was used as the face of the show to maximize its youth appeal as the new Buffy, as far as women were concerned on Heroes, it was Larter and not Panettiere who played the best character in season one (before I gave up on it last Fall). As a New Age Film Noir heroine, Larter played a combo of the virgin and the whore dual personality all rolled into one without the cheesy melodrama of a daytime soap and we never knew which side of Larter’s character we’d see next.
And while granted she’s no Meryl Streep, in the film Marigold as well as a recent independent screener called Crazy I was lucky enough to view (currently making the rounds in the film-festival circuit), she gets the chance to show a range that we haven’t seen before and both films involve music. While in the biopic Crazy, she plays the long-suffering wife of a talented guitarist, in writer/director Willard Carroll’s likable sleeper Marigold, Larter takes her biggest risk yet and gets her diva shot at Bollywood glory.
Due to the rightful insistence of casting directors that she’s just not “sympathetic enough,” D-List actress Marigold Lexton (Larter) whose own boyfriend describes her as a “four-star bitch,” has made a career appearing in numerous direct-to-DVD sequels of famous films. After earning a horny fanbase with turns in "Fatal Attraction 3" and "Basic Instinct 3," Marigold’s career has taken such a status dive that as the film opens she boards a twenty-hour flight to Bombay in coach class and bumps along during a hellish twelve-hour cab ride to Goa for her latest gig in Kama Sutra 3.
After screaming at her agents and boyfriend via cell phone the entire way (and clearly loving the chance to play a hammy stereotype as Larter kills even Carroll’s most throwaway lines), eventually her feet touch land in Goa. However, instead of a red carpet, she quickly discovers that due to the shady dealings in the background Sutra’s Indian producers have landed in jail and the German bankers fled to Singapore to avoid a similar fate when financing fell through. Further distraught when her fed-up agent fires her over the telephone and she realizes she was only provided with a one-way ticket to India, the unkind Marigold relies on the kindness of strangers in the Bollywood film community as she tries a way back to the states.

Although instead of a temporary layover, her stay is lengthened the duration of a film shoot, when she’s shocked to discover that while blonde actresses are a dime a dozen in synthetic La La Land, in Goa, her exotic golden-tresses and experience working even in, as Kathy Griffin would call, D-List films, makes her a valuable commodity. Soon, the director is reworking his Bollywood production to feature Marigold in a starring role and although (much like Larter), her character has zero musical or dancing training, her new friends quickly take her under their wing, including the gorgeous and guileless choreographer Prem (Bollywood sensation Salman Khan). A romantic relationship predictably develops but culture clash and prior commitments (both with Marigold’s lackluster relationship back in the states and Prem’s familial obligations) threaten to get in their way.

A true fairy-tale for the film’s duration—tinged with beautiful visuals and featuring seven original songs about the various stages of love (of which only some are successful), Carroll’s Marigold is an earnest and warmly romantic guilty pleasure. And as the director noted on the DVD that it's an “affectionate homage” rather than a parody of the genre, he manages to produce a Bollywood-light film that even the uninitiated will find appealing without immersing themselves fully into the genre. Famous for their multiple-hour running times and sudsy plots that nonetheless engross (like the Academy Award-nominated three-hour “cricket-match musical,” Lagaan: Once Upon a Time in India), Bollywood isn’t for everyone. Like sushi, country music, and the comedy of Dane Cook—you’re either a fan or you’re not and oftentimes it’s hard to analyze why.

While ultimately, as far as I’m concerned, I really enjoy the genre, I do grant that I couldn’t watch too many of them in a short time period. In the same token if pressed—genre-wise, I’d say that I wished I could spend one day living life as though it were a frothy French romantic comedy; American musicals would be a close second. With this in mind if you blended together the sweet with the sour of both genres and poured on the soapy melodrama while grating on generous amounts of cheese, you’ll have formulated the ultimate Bollywood musical that it’s fun to get lost in, at least for two hours.
However, while I’m a casual fan, writer/director Willard Carroll is a die-hard Bollywood devotee. The filmmaker, a few years back crafted one of my favorite underrated Altman-esque ensemble pieces, Playing By Heart (which I forced everyone I knew to rent). Afterwards, he found himself fascinated by the genre after only taking in one Bollywood musical--incidentally starring Khan-- when he was in India. When he arrived back in the states, complete with a new obsession, he programmed a one-man international film festival, absorbing, analyzing and viewing an admitted “150-200” films before he set out to begin crafting his own.

And although it will never top Playing By Heart which is still one of my favorite films—ironically Heart is one so synonymous with its cast (including Connery, Jolie, Rowlands etc.) that it wasn’t until after I began researching Marigold, that I even realized the helmer of this one was one and the same. Still, Marigold is affable Saturday afternoon fare for single girls or a lightweight date movie for nights curled up on the couch, sure to find a bigger audience on cable television, as long as-- that is-- Bollywood doesn’t send you running.
Yet unlike Gurinder Chadha’s Jane Austen inspired blend of American musicals and Bollywood fare—Bride and Prejudice—Carroll wanted to pay tribute to what he liked but avoid parroting the genre altogether in what could have been an unsuccessful satire. Couple this with the fact that—as he reveals on the DVD—Ali Larter was living in his guest home and suddenly one day while observing her doing laundry, he realized he had his very own remarkable leading lady to get the job done. And likewise, he gave her a chance as a friend and supportive professional that most in the industry wouldn’t have, as he says, believing in her even more than the actress does herself.
While unfortunately it's a bit skimpy on DVD extras, the studio more than makes up for it with a fascinating behind-the-scenes thirty-minute making-of featurette on the Marigold DVD, taking film lovers further into the cinematic process of such a visually stunning work. And although therein he admits that although the process of the two stars couldn’t have been more different with Larter’s cerebral questioning and longing for rehearsal and the veteran Khan who has the ability after the bare minimum of run-throughs to just complete a complicated number flawlessly, soon they inevitably clicked. And in doing so, much like the film itself—thereby managing to meld the west and east together in a very harmlessly yet unexpectedly entertaining way.

Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008)

Woody Allen signs up Scarlett Johansson for
Spanish lessons in love with Professor Javier Bardem.

One of the most annoying things about being a writer is that I’m best able to process things with my pen or at my keyboard when I’ve had a moment to let things sink in. I’m a big believer in note-taking, especially in film criticism because automatic writing allows some pools of unrealized creativity to eke out. Sometimes I discover things of which I’d been previously unaware until I read back the barely legible sentence fragments I’d scribbled out on a tiny notebook in a darkened theatre. Yet, as a writer first and foremost, I have a harder time with extemporaneous speaking.

The wonderful PR agencies and studio representatives who are kind and courageous enough to screen their films for us wait expectantly with notebooks in their own hands in well-lit lobbies, hoping to get our immediate reactions. Often I struggle to come up with something that’s not only intelligent but balanced. If I hate a film, as a polite Midwesterner (or it could be just feminine instinct), I always find that I want to find something — anything — to say about it that’s positive before I apologetically express my dislike.

Yet, intriguingly, when I’m blown away by a film, often I’m nearly equally at a loss for words. Case in point: Vicky Cristina Barcelona. On the surface, it begins as a typical Woody Allen film with a European feel including a voice-over narration which in this case works well since the setting is Barcelona as we follow two American female tourists on summer holiday. Predictably, issues of love, sex, infidelity, and artistic temperament come into play, per Allen’s most frequently visited themes.

Yet, as a huge Allen fan who’s seen every one of his films (including some I can practically recite from memory), I couldn’t get over the feeling that had I walked into the theatre after his traditional black and white credits had rolled. Just five minutes late and with no prior knowledge of the piece, I wouldn’t have guessed in a million years that it was a film made by Woody Allen.

And admittedly some of his works — even the light, entertaining trifles of the past few years — have felt self-conscious and claustrophobic, which make his epic tragedies like Match Point and Cassandra’s Dream far greater by comparison. However, I'm thrilled to write that Vicky Cristina Barcelona is breezy, earthy, intoxicating, and frankly, sexy as hell. 

And yes, I’m aware that as a professional, “sexy as hell” isn’t the most astute observation yet as the only female critic in attendance with a small crowd of men no doubt hoping to ogle Scarlett Johansson and Penelope Cruz’s much-discussed “threesome” (which ultimately consists of a passionate kiss and discussion), I felt a need to represent how the film played to a female audience and one of the first phrases out of my mouth to the eager representative was in fact “sexy as hell.”

Sex has always been Allen’s topic de jour, but whereas it’s been so cerebral in his other films, discussed to death so that it’s nearly clinical (for example, Annie Hall), this film celebrates love, sexuality, and humanity in a life-affirming and dare I say optimistic approach, atypical of the notoriously pessimistic, introspective Allen. 

Why so sexy, you may ask? Well, surely the country’s setting helps, photographed to breathtaking effect by award-winning Spanish cinematographer Javier Aguirresarobe (Talk to Her, The Sea Inside, The Others) as does the beauty of the film’s leads including Johansson and Cruz, but mostly, the sex appeal is best personified in the unexpected, pitch-perfect, dreamy performance by Javier Bardem.

Bardem, best known to audiences for his Oscar winning turn playing the “bubonic plague”-likened killer in the most recent Best Picture winner, No Country for Old Men, continues to amaze, showing colors to his personality we never knew existed such as warm humor and irresistible mischief, and Barcelona makes terrific use of his range from the start.

Although one could nearly anticipate the internal groans in audience members as the film began using a lengthy narrative voice-over by introducing us to our leads, ultimately the old-fashioned technique sort of fades into the background as the film goes on — still commenting, yet in a way that never overpowers the main storyline. Quickly we become acquainted with best friends, the grounded and responsible Vicky (Starter for 10 actress Rebecca Hall) and the often dissatisfied, feisty, and passionate Cristina (Allen’s latest muse, Scoop and Match Point star Scarlett Johansson). Whereas Vicky has her life all planned out, pursuing a Master’s Degree in Catalan Identity and planning an upcoming wedding to the decent, stable, and successful Doug (Chris Messina), Cristina is endlessly searching for any new adventure to whisk her away.

They both get much more than they bargained for when, staying with family friends (Patricia Clarkson and Kevin Dunn), Cristina catches sight of the smolderingly mysterious presence of Bardem’s Juan Antonio, an artist still reeling from a bad breakup with his ex Maria Elena (Cruz) who tried to murder him before they parted. Whereas most women would run screaming in the other direction upon hearing tales of domestic violence, Cristina becomes all the more intrigued, later using her feminine wiles to attract his attention at a nearby bar. A few hair tricks and eyelash bats later, Juan Antonio is soon at their table, first asking if the two women are American before fixating on Cristina with the painterly come-on, “What color are your eyes?” 

Predictably, loosened up by the wine, thrown off her game by his gaze, and generally disoriented by her foreign surroundings, Cristina falls for it hook, line, and sinker. Vicky is far more skeptical, especially when, just seconds after he begins chatting them up, he proposes the two travel with him by plane for the weekend to Oviedo, in order to look at a favorite statue of his, drink wine, and make love in an only-in-the-movies speech which recalls Sirk’s Written on the Wind. And while we can sense Cristina mentally packing her bag, Vicky finds his bravado obnoxious, telling him off before ultimately, and predictably, she ends up going along to chaperone her friend.

Of course, once they arrive in Oviedo, Vicky is quick to realize that she may have misjudged the painter and soon, both women are taken with Juan Antonio, which sends Vicky into a guilt-stricken panic as she’s promised to the dull but secure Doug and Juan is endlessly prone to obsessing about his ex. Things get far more complicated when, late into the picture, Maria Elena reenters his life in a firestorm of neurosis and passion.

Cruz attacks the role with a fearlessness we’ve never seen before and she’s sure to generate Oscar buzz for a performance that for once doesn’t treat her as an exotic, angelic beauty, but celebrates the complexity of her larger-than-life artistic ability. Allen, who had only seen the actress in her Oscar nominated Volver according to the press notes, was thrilled when Cruz’s reps contacted him directly upon learning that his latest feature was to be set in her homeland. And while, she picks up the pace considerably, it’s relatively easy to get swept up in the spark-filled scenes between her and Bardem without realizing just how good some of the supporting players are in the less showy roles. This is most notably easy to do with the talented Rebecca Hall’s understated, subtle and contemplative Vicky as well as Johansson, who, in her third collaboration with the auteur, is game for anything he throws her way.

With what could have been a rather obvious send up of Jules and Jim, Woody Allen finally hits his stride with this frothy, sexy work. Undeniably hip, refreshing, and wonderfully indicative of the twenty-first century, Vicky Cristina Barcelona showcases a side of Allen that wasn’t evidenced in the classically executed (enjoyable yet mild works) The Curse of the Jade Scorpion, Small Time Crooks, and Hollywood Ending.

Although given the gorgeous leads and locales, all audiences are sure to find themselves taken in by the film’s sex appeal, Vicky Cristina Barcelona is an entirely welcome summer inclusion for sophisticated, thinking women after several months of fun yet admittedly testosterone-fueled juvenile buddy comedies and CGI-driven superhero pictures.

And much like fellow New York filmmakers Martin Scorsese before him did with The Departed and Spike Lee offered with Inside Man, Allen has released one of his best works in years, by widening his lens, opening his mind, and traveling to Spain. Oh and by the way, did I mention that it’s sexy as hell?

Brideshead Revisited (2008)

Director:
Julian Jarrold

As much pressure as there is when making a period film to keep contemporary viewers interested, extra hurdles are added when the period film is based on one of the most critically acclaimed books of the twentieth century. And the anxiety doubles when it was also adapted into what most devotees assumed was the definitive take on the source material in a wildly popular, classic twelve-hour British miniseries. In taking on Brideshead Revisited, instantly one runs the risk of being labeled a copycat as well as going against conventional wisdom of “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” but by employing celebrated, award-winning screenwriters Andrew Davies (Mr. Adaptation himself having penned updated versions of some of literature’s most beloved works) and Last King of Scotland scribe Jeremy Brock, the filmmakers hoped to tackle that problem head on. However, in telling the story of the poor underdog Charles Ryder (Match Point’s Matthew Goode) who gets tangled up in the lives and loves of the wealthy but ill-fated Sebastian Marchmain (Ben Whishaw) and his headstrong sister Julia (Hayley Atwell), the results are mostly mixed.

Sumptuously photographed and with amazing attention to detail, including filming in Yorkshire’s awe-inspiring tourist attraction, the Castle Howard which had first doubled for the Marchmain’s home Brideshead in the prior television adaptation, Becoming Jane director Julian Jarrold’s sophisticated film is sure to rake in Oscar nominations in the fields of art and costume design as well as a probable nomination for Emma Thompson as the devoutly Catholic, domineering Marchmain matriarch.

And while no doubt one has to admire the intelligence of such a gorgeous work, especially in its daring summer release opposite mindless comedies and special effects driven superhero films which will definitely come as a much needed quiet treat for film reviewers everywhere to heap praise onto the movie, I felt like it kept viewer’s emotions at an arm’s length. Never shaking the museum feel that proves so daunting for period works-- much like another critically loved classic book turned Miramax film, The Wings of the Dove, I had a hard time becoming invested in this rather icy tale. This was especially difficult when considering that—while Charles is positioned as its hero—frequently, he’s the most unlikable character onscreen and often we’re left wondering just whom is using whom when it comes to his dealings with the Marchmains. While one never has to unconditionally love a lead character, the question then becomes whether or not you feel invested in the person’s plight and with Charles, most of the time, I didn’t.

Ultimately, I felt that that while it’s a beautiful looking work bolstered by its talented cast (Whishaw, Goode, and Atwell no doubt have excellent careers ahead of them), I sensed a barrier between myself and the production, which I can only liken to flipping through a photo album with a friend who’s just returned from a trip and can’t wait to show you hundreds of their photos. While the anecdotes and visuals are amusing enough, we realize we’re missing the full effect which was no doubt best experienced by reading Evelyn Waugh’s original novel and/or in the lengthy lauded miniseries.

This being said, I applaud the bold decision to bring the homosexual and extramarital infidelity plots to light and overlap the previously three separate tales in changes that the production notes explain were approved by the Waugh foundation. However, despite a great respect for the brilliance of Davies, I couldn’t help but imagine that this Brideshead adaptation may have been best served by brining in a more contemporary styled yet equally literary and thematically similar writer in the form of The Hours scribe Michael Cunningham. In addition to The Hours along with the brilliant A Home at the End of the World and even in his unsuccessful but imaginative interpretation of the novel Evening, Cunningham routinely explores love triangles and the struggle to come of age while reconciling one’s own desires within their immediate environment and familial obligation. Thus, being that the Brideshead filmmakers made the decision to “out” Sebastian in a greater way than in previous versions as well as try to fight against the Masterpiece Theatre trappings of most period films, by bringing in someone who isn’t usually lumped together alongside the usual suspects of the highbrow British fare, they may have breathed some much needed life into a claustrophobic and slightly overly long adaptation.

WALL-E

Director:
Andrew Stanton

Although most of us run from fix-ups, even if they are preferable in my humble opinion to speed-dating, matchmaking websites, and singles bars, imagine what a tough sell it would be to try and set up a friend like WALL-E. The pitch would have to be well-rehearsed but would most likely go something like this: “I know this great guy. Well, he’s self-employed which in our technology driven society is really impressive… oh, well, technically he’s in waste allocation, actually. He loves movies—Hello Dolly is his favorite and he listens to show-tunes all day. Yes, I’m sure he likes females. Other hobbies? Well, he collects things… oh, um sporks, Rubik’s Cubes, bras, bowling pins, Zippo lighters. Personality? Well, he’s someone of few words, kind of a loner… no, actually, he doesn’t really have any friends but you just know he’s one of the good ones. Wait-- where are you going?”

Needless to say, if WALL-E lived in today’s society and not seven hundred years in the future, he’d be the prime candidate to star in a modern remake of the Ernest Borgnine classic Marty. If you know, it was animated by those wizards at Pixar who by now probably have so many awards that they could possibly build an entire studio out of gold. There’s just something instantly huggable about the titular lead character in their latest film WALL-E that turns viewers into the office busybody, the over-eager relative or worse, those smug married friends who all just want to see this adorable Waste Allocation Load Lifter: Earth-Class robot find himself a nice robotic girl already. And while we’re at it, hopefully a fellow movie buff unafraid of director Gene Kelly’s less-than-stellar 1969 Barbra Streisand film Hello Dolly and someone with whom WALL-E can roam his bleak, deserted, overwhelmingly trash filled, sundrenched and beige version of Earth set seven hundred years in the future where rampant consumerism and greed have taken the color out of everything with nary a blue sky, crystal clear lake, or flower, and one in which humankind abandoned years earlier to live blissfully ignorant, fat and happy reaping the benefits of virtual reality in space.

Far from the upbeat setting one would anticipate from the studio of Walt Disney, there’s still something surprisingly sweet, infectious, and romantic and quintessentially uplifting in its forty minute opener. And although the movie is preceded by Presto, another ingenious new short film from Pixar, it’s superfluous as the studio may have been better off dividing WALL-E into two distinct longer length short films as while the second half—despite making excellent points likening it in some critical circles to an adolescent version of An Inconvenient Truth—is shockingly bleak in its unflinching presentation of a man-made consumer driven dystopia that, while the youngest audience members won’t pick up on its true political mores, ages six through ten may be a bit too bothered by what they’re facing onscreen.



Still, it’s an outstanding and vital achievement and I can’t praise the first half enough as in contrast to its futuristic setting, WALL-E feels anachronistic yet welcomingly old-fashioned, nostalgic, wondrous in its simplicity like an animated silent film, introducing us to its oddball, outsider loner WALL-E who dutifully goes about his days compacting trash into manageable small square shapes, with absolutely zero company save for his tape recorder filled with love songs and the comforting images of Hello Dolly that delight him in the evening when he retreats to his hideout with whatever pieces of human loot he’s found that day. Therefore, when a ship arrives dropping off the sleek, blue-eyed, pristine, curvier, female robot Eve, WALL-E is determined to put his best battery forward, in making the ideal computerized first impression, yet he’s taken aback by her mission-oriented, lethal personality, shooting things at will which theoretically would have sent most men running, yet WALL-E’s off-the-charts loneliness and instant attraction causes his operating system to run wild with romantic imagery. Soon Louis Armstrong sings “La Vie En Rose” while he works to subliminally gain her interest, creating a self-statue of himself, worshipping her from afar until intimacy is sped up when he must pull her to safety to avoid a violent dust storm and sweetly, like a teenage boy on a first date, he tries to figure out the best way to inch closer to Eve and is delighted when she seems to share his Dolly enthusiasm.

Unfortunately their romance is cut short when her goal is reached and she must return home with WALL-E impulsively becoming a harmless stalker-bot, hitching a ride on her ship, only to discover life as a “foreign contaminant,” on a space station where former Earthbound humans have turned into helpless blobs living in beach styled recliners, their every whim catered to by technology, and a lifestyle best surmised by the company that sponsors it-- Buy ‘N Large. Although in his quest to win Eve’s heart or rather her memory card, WALL-E becomes the unwitting hero to help restore Earth to what it once was, but this gloomy Aldus Huxley, Orwellian like glimpse of the future and dark tone complete with allusions to everything from I Am Legend to Blade Runner to 2001: A Space Odyssey makes a complete one hundred and eighty degree turn from the way the film began and while Pixar still stands above and beyond others in offering intelligent, contemplative, and gorgeously sophisticated animation, when reviewed as an entire picture, WALL-E feels glaringly uneven and surprisingly dissatisfying with its ugly final act, despite an obligatory happy ending, yet in its brilliant opening which just consisted of WALL-E and Eve, what they managed to create is the best proof of their perfection as a studio since Finding Nemo.

Still, for younger audiences, I would recommend Kung Fu Panda, before suggesting you bring the tykes to WALL-E, with the fear that for those who are able to get the admittedly highly important politically implications that seemed inappropriate given its target audience, it may cause nightmares about an uncertain future reminiscent of the cold war scares faced by elementary school children of the baby boom generation. However, for those looking for something heartfelt and genuine, I can’t think of a better and more surprising (and therefore impressive!) date movie—far superior to the by-the-numbers rom-coms of 2008 so far—than the first half of WALL-E.

So in the end... I guess I believe in cinematic speed dating after all.

Bella

Director: Alejandro Gomez Monteverde

Although infinitely preferable to the sexist and conservative rants of Dr. Phil, normally I wouldn’t advise trying to glean any wisdom on how to live one’s life from the heartbreaking oeuvre of Tennessee Williams. Despite this, there is definitely something to be said for Blanche DuBois’s memorable confession, “I have always depended on the kindness of strangers,” uttered in A Streetcar Named Desire. Not only do those words ring true more regularly than the evening news would have us believe in real life, but often they also provide a terrific springboard for creativity in the world of independent filmmaking.

From The Station Agent to Once, it seems as though we overwhelmingly gravitate towards stories in which our main character finds either their romantic or platonic soul mate in a complete stranger. Frequently this burgeoning appreciation echoes the events onscreen as audience members find themselves becoming an integral part of a steadily growing word-of-mouth movement that brings together film lovers from all backgrounds and walks of life to find truth, solace and consolation in the fact that this world is much smaller than we may think, with people who feel things in the same way as do we.

A beautiful cinematic realization of this sentiment can be found in writer/director Alejandro Gomez Monteverde’s feature film debut Bella which earned the 2006 People’s Choice Award at the Toronto International Film Festival, once again exemplifying the determination of filmgoers to seek out and reward works with which they identify. Primarily set during the course of one fateful New York day, save for a few wisely chosen flashes backwards and forwards in time, we encounter two employees of a restaurant who find a spark of recognition in one another.

When the pretty, young waitress Nina (Tammy Blanchard) is fired by domineering Manny (Manny Perez) after arriving late to work, despite the fact that they’re relative strangers, something in the girl’s eyes and manner speaks to Manny’s brother, the restaurant’s chef Jose (Eduardo Verastegui) who follows Nina to the subway where she reveals she is pregnant. Not wanting to leave her alone and equally drawn to her plight by the ghosts of his own tragic past which are revealed over the course of the film and refreshingly without predictability, Jose brings Nina to his family’s home.

Traditional narrative structure would have us believe that we’re watching a straightforward romance where Jose would chivalrously save the young woman from a tragic fate however just when you think you have it pegged, the film moves in another direction. Moreover, Monteverde’s intelligent screenplay and carefully chosen leads never let us forget that Jose needs Nina just as much as she needs him and Bella avoids becoming mired in a tired formula as the film evolves from a naturalistic romance to one where the romance isn’t simply to be found in the relationship between a man and a woman but one that celebrates genuine love between human beings, whether it’s classified as romantic, familial or platonic.