Neely Recommends

Written by Neely | 21 February 2013

Tristana a film by Luis Buñuel

During one glorious moment in cinema, Luis Buñuel made movies, grand, messy, symbolic, intense movies. Tristana, produced in 1970 and based on a novel by Benito Perez Galdos, represented Buñuel’s return to Spain after an exile of many years. A European co-production, it starred Franco Nero (the Italian “it” boy of the moment), Catherine Deneuve (already an international superstar who had most recently brilliantly acquitted herself in Buñuel’s Belle de Jour) and the incomparable Fernando Rey who for a short time in the 1970s played characters who were the personification of sophisticated evil from The French Connection to Buñuel’s films The Discrete Charm of the Bourgeoisie and That Obscure Object of Desire.

Certainly the fact that the story of Tristana can be related briefly does in no way diminish its depth or deception.

Tristana (Catherine Deneuve), a budding post-adolescent, has just lost her mother whose last wish was that she live under the guardianship of the well-respected Don Lope (Fernando Rey). Tristana represents the pinnacle of beautiful innocence to Don Lope; a Madonna to be set upon a pedestal by him, her self-proclaimed adoptive father. But Don Lope has a weakness, and it is beautiful young women whose youth and beauty rejuvenate his aging decadence. Seducing her under the guise of protecting her, he dictates every moment of her life, forbidding that she go out unless accompanied either by him or his maid, Saturna. Inevitably the real world intrudes during one of her chaperoned walks when she meets the handsome Horacio, a painter. As they fall in love, she becomes bolder in her life with Don Lope, eventually breaking with him entirely to leave with Horacio. Aware that she is damaged goods, she refuses to marry him but when, struck by what may be a fatal illness, she demands that she be returned to Don Lope’s house to die. But, alas, she doesn’t. Her disease is cured when her leg is amputated; her body now reflecting the damage he did to her soul.

Buñuel always used a great deal of religious and political symbolism in his stories and Tristana overflows with both the obtuse and the obvious. As in most Buñuel films, the themes of corruption and moral decay interweave the characters and the plot. Favorite targets of religion, sexual perversion and politics are thinly veiled in a story that could be placed anytime during the Franco era – pre, post or during the civil war.

But perhaps, if one is only allowed one theme, it might be hypocrisy. Don Lope, under the guise of the protection of Tristana’s virtue deflowers her innocence; declaring her unfettered and in command of her own free will, he keeps her under lock and key; an alleged socialist, he mocks those who fight the Guardia Civil in the streets; disdainful of the rich only until he becomes rich himself; despising the church throughout life, it is to the church that he turns in death. Don Lope is a warrior in the battle between good and evil, but he is the soldier who represents evil in all its forms whether banal or direct.

Couched within the hypocrisy and evil lies innocence as personified by Tristana because even after she has been ruined by Don Lope, she maintains her self-knowledge and truth. It is this righteous innocence that prevents her from marrying Horacio for she is well aware that she is damaged goods in the eyes of God, a God who allowed this destruction. Interestingly, her loss of innocence does nothing to the purity of her soul as regards her love for Horacio. When, however, she becomes gravely ill, she returns to Don Lope, leaving the man who loves her soul for the man who destroyed her innocence. It is at this point that roles reverse and it is Don Lope who becomes captive and begins looking for answers from the God he never acknowledged. He is left only with priests who don’t battle for his earthly soul at their weekly card games, they crave only his material wealth.

As mentioned earlier, Buñuel’s films were often crammed with symbols and obscure references and one would have to be a student of such things to catch them and attach meaning (better to watch Bergman films of the 50s and 60s for a refresher course in filmic religious symbolism), but suffice it to say that the ringing bells, the bell clapper in the shape of Don Lope’s head, and the perverted deaf-mute boy, Saturno (possibly a play on the word Satyr) have meaning if you dig deep enough. I choose not to and prefer to enjoy the film for the surrealistic journey of good and evil as it presents itself. Enjoy Tristana on any level, but certainly as a reminder that great films can be chaotic and yield as much or as little as the effort you care to put into the viewing.

Sumptuously restored by Cohen Film Collection, José Aguayo’s stunning cinematography can be experienced in its full glory as the photography and production design are characters in themselves. If you’ve never seen Tristana, go for a primer in classic Buñuel; if you have seen it in the past, go again and be reminded of how effectively Buñuel skewered religion, the bourgeoisie (still relevant especially if you saw it in during your anarchic youth), and morality. It’s messy and opaque and never boring.

Opens Friday, February 22 at the Nuart in Santa Monica for one week.

Written by Neely Swanson | 17 December 2012

"Amour" a film by Michael Haneke

“Amour,” Michael Haneke’s award-winning film is beautifully executed and astonishingly to devastating result. Starring Jean-Louis Trintignant whose first role in 1956 was as the love interest in the salaciously received Roger Vadim film “…And God Created Woman” that introduced the world to Brigitte Bardot and later gained his own fame as one half of Claude Lelouch’s “A Man and a Woman,” arguably the most romantic film of the 60’s, and Emmanuelle Riva who’s role in Alain Resnais’ 1959 film classic “Hiroshima Mon Amour” made her iconic, “Amour” is a slice of life film the Europeans do so well.

Married and in love for eons, Georges and Anne have lived a gifted, cultured life in the arts. Now in their eighties they live comfortably in Paris, attending concerts, reading together by the fireside, still basking in each other’s presence. Their only daughter, Eva, played with narcissistic edge by the incomparable Isabelle Huppert, lives in England with her daughter and husband, a concert pianist with a roving eye. Her rare visits to her parent usually signify a financial need.

While sitting at breakfast over tea, Anne’s response to one of Georges’ questions is a state of catatonia from which she emerges moments later. Unaware of her previous state, Anne rejects his concern until the attack returns and she is taken to the hospital. Tests reveal a blocked carotid artery that can be remedied by a simple surgical procedure with a 96% success-rate. Anne, however, fell into the catastrophic 4% and it is Georges’ task to try to ease the pain and complications that are now part of their life together, a life that no longer holds joy or promise.

Physically and psychologically inhabiting the roles of a very aged couple, Trintignant and Riva attach no vanity to their performances. Every line, sag, wrinkle and shuffle is a road map to the lives they have lived and contribute mightily to the realistic portrayals of the aged no longer capable of handling the unforeseen complications of the aging process. We ache for them and for ourselves as it may indicate the road ahead. They, as well as we, subscribe to the sentiments of Jacques Brel’s lyrics: “If we only have love, then tomorrow will dawn and the days of our years will rise on that morn.” But sometimes they don’t, and this is what Haneke reveals.

Haneke, a brilliant writer and director, has often addressed the dark side of the couple relationship. Here, it is the totally devoted and trusting partners who cannot navigate the unexpected physical event that comes between them. In “Caché,” it was the small lie that destroyed an innocent victim and grew into a wall between a perpetrator, his family and his life; and in “The Piano Teacher” (also with Huppert) he used expectation and the lack of love as both the hammer and the saving grace. Haneke is surely one of the best investigators of the psyche practicing today.

“Amour” is not easy; it is, in fact, a very difficult film to watch. For those on the downhill side of fifty, you already know that aging has no up-side; it is all newly discovered physical ailments, memory loss and increasing inabilities. Haneke doesn’t sugar-coat the process, so don’t go in thinking that this is a happily ever after story. In the end, regardless of circumstance, there is no return, even if you’re among the few blessed with a loving, understanding partner.

Opening December 19 in both Los Angeles and New York.

Written by Neely | 14 December 2012

Lincoln

“Lincoln,” Steven Spielberg’s magnificent film eleven years in gestation, has been worth the wait. The rights to historian Doris Kearns Goodwin’s magnum opus, Team of Rivals, were purchased by DreamWorks well in advance of its 2005 publication, and a stunning and comprehensive guide to the political ascension of the 16^th president it is. That a film could be carved from the intricate web spun within its pages is even more amazing, but Tony Kushner, the remarkable playwright (“Angels in America”) and screenwriter (“Munich”) illustrates that adaptation is an art form unto itself.

Choosing one episode in the political life of Abraham Lincoln out of so very many was, in retrospect, perhaps the only way to approach the task. Using Goodwin’s book for characterizations and the background necessary to understand Lincoln’s personality and approach to governance, Kushner and Spielberg chose Lincoln’s push to pass the Thirteen Amendment to the Constitution. Lincoln, first, last and always a lawyer, knew that his Emancipation Proclamation was a wartime act, essentially taking away the property of rebel factions and might be subject to rescission by the courts once the war ended and the Southern states returned to the jurisdiction of the United States; he could not allow that to happen. The only way to assure the permanent end to slavery (and indentured servitude) would be by Constitutional Amendment, something the Republican-controlled Senate had already passed. The House, controlled by the Democrats, was another story and the amendment had already failed once. Knowing that the war would soon end as the South had run out of money and soldiers, there was an urgency to the task – an urgency underscored by the refusal of the minority party to give way on anything requested by the President (for present day observers, it brings to mind Santayana’s famous saying, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it”; or perhaps better expressed in “The more things change, the more they remain the same”). That this battle would be played out in the last few months of his life makes it all that more dramatic and poignant.

Spielberg has amassed an enormous and enormously talented cast, led by the stunning performance of Daniel Day Lewis who brings a complex and complicated man to life. Lincoln, a famous raconteur, could also be mercurial, cagey almost to the point of duplicity, a tender-hearted family man, a loyal friend, a talented wartime strategist who possessed a sharp intelligence coupled with an unmatched grass-roots common sense. Lewis communicates all of that and more with his flat Illinois intonation, shining eyes and almost stooped stride. He is mesmerizing.

David Strathairn as Secretary of State Seward, perhaps Lincoln’s closest advisor, is at once self-important and self-effacing. Sally Field imbues Mary Lincoln with warmth and a raw edge; this is not the portrait of a mentally ill woman as she has often been (wrongfully) played, but one who cares deeply for her husband’s legacy but still grieves and blames herself (and him) for the son she lost. Field captures Mary’s warmth, fear, tenacity and defensiveness for Mary Lincoln was, in the end, enigmatic.

Also of note are the triumvirate of shady characters employed sub rosa to beg, cajole, steal or pay for votes of Democrats in the fight to pass the amendment, led by James Spader as the bloated, crude and essentially lawless W.N. Bilbo, followed closely by his compatriots played by John Hawkes as Robert Latham and Tim Blake Nelson as Richard Schell. Joseph Gordon Levitt as Robert Lincoln, the eldest son, conveys the confusion and resentment of one who longs for a closer relationship with a father he admires but has been kept distant.

So many familiar faces fill the screen, adding dimension to the urgency of the task at hand. Evil is personified in the form of Democrats George Pendleton (Peter McRobbie) and Fernando Wood (Lee Pace) leading the opposition to the amendment and using any means necessary to keep a rein on the other representatives, two of whom are played convincingly by Walter Goggins and Michael Stuhlbarg. In small but critical roles you will also see Hal Holbrook, Julie White, Jackie Earle Haley, Bruce McGill, Dakin Matthews, Stephen McKinley Henderson, Gloria Reuben, and S. Epatha Merkenson among many many others.

Last, but certainly not least, Tommy Lee Jones has a well-deserved and well-earned star turn as Thaddeus Stephens, a Republican abolitionist and firebrand in the House who must exercise a self-restraint foreign to his nature in order help pass the amendment. He was pure pleasure in a bad wig and a dark scowl.

Spielberg’s creative team has worked together on many films and there would seem to be a second sense in their work for him. The cinematography by Janusz Kaminski was sumptuous, graphic, light and dark simultaneously adding to the palpable despair and dawning hope. It is inconceivable to imagine anyone else with a better eye. Rick Carter’s production design was the perfect partnership with the cinematography enhancing the depth of feeling for the era and events. Joanna Johnston’s costumes were period-perfect and of course John Williams created the score.

Spielberg’s film is clear-eyed and almost entirely devoid of maudlin sentimentality. Had he ended the film on Lincoln’s back (a beautifully framed shot in a halo of light) as he left his cabinet meeting for the theater, it would have been essentially perfect. There was no need to play out his final moments and even more unfortunate, Spielberg was unable to resist the opportunity to “remind” his audience of Lincoln’s most famous oration on emancipation, tacking on an anti-climactic coda that allowed a release from the tension, sadness and loss that was felt when watching him leave for his date with death.

Written by Neely | 29 November 2012

"A Late Quartet," a film by Yaron Zilberman

“A Late Quartet” is a beautifully photographed, deeply felt, nuanced film for adults; that rare species now relegated to the Indie world because adults are no longer a sought after commodity. This is not to say that “A Late Quartet” will not be appreciated by the college and post-college demographic, because it should be; only that it is a film about adults having to make adult decisions even when their actions are, on occasion, juvenile.

The Fugue Quartet is celebrating its 25^th year together having been formed when violinist Daniel (Mark Ivanir) was a student at Julliard. Sensing an opportunity when his professor Peter Mitchell’s string quartet dissolved, David invited Mitchell, and two other fellow students, violist Juliette (Catherine Keener) and violinist Robert (Philip Seymour Hoffman) to form their own group.

Rehearsing for an autumn schedule of concerts where they will be performing Beethoven’s Opus 131, they are all surprised when Peter fumbles his passage. Concerned, Peter goes to his physician and is delivered a crushing blow; he is in the initial stages of Parkinson’s. Devastated both by this news and the still fresh rawness of losing his beloved wife the year before, he informs the group that he will have to retire. David immediately suggests a replacement, the rapidity of which shocks and angers the others.

For Robert and Juliette, married soon after the quartet was formed when she discovered she was pregnant, Peter has been a mentor to them both and the thought of losing him unravels the structure to their lives that has been held together by the quartet, the only part of their marriage that seems to be working as verbal and physical communication has lapsed. Juliette has become frigid and distracted; Robert, dissatisfied playing a secondary role in his wife’s life, also questions his delegation as the second violinist in the quartet, rarely given the solo parts. When he suggests that he and Daniel alternate roles, Daniel enlists Juliette’s aid in convincing Robert to drop his demand. Enraged that Juliette would take Daniel’s side against him, especially given the suggested subtext that there remain long unresolved issues between Daniel and Juliette, Robert engages in a momentary affair with a casual acquaintance, further ripping the fabric of both his relationship with Juliette and that of the musical marriage. It was Peter’s loving constancy that held them together and the prospect of losing him has brought forth all the petty jealousies and unrealized desires and expectations of the past. Robert lives for passion, in his life and in his music. Daniel, alone by choice, wants control to the extent that he will not perform without assiduously detailed notes for every passage; even his passion for the music is within tightly contained boundaries. Juliette, an orphan raised by Peter and his wife, is not just losing a musical partner but a beloved parent, and still wonders what life might have been like without Robert, without her daughter, without her music; she is the most at sea.

Director Yaron Zilberman has cleverly and intellectually framed his film within the context of Beethoven’s Opus 131. It was one of the last pieces he composed before he died and unlike the traditional four movement quartet where pauses occur between the movements, allowing the musicians to retune their instruments and signaling shifts in tone and emotion to the audience, Opus 131 has seven movements played without pause. Like the lives of these characters, and life in general, there are no pauses, life goes in and out of tune and is played in the open with sadness, joy, vivacity, torpor and passion colliding together. It is the overall structure of the music that holds it together and that structure will hold them as well.

The music is sumptuous and the Manhattan settings add depth. Beethoven’s chamber music as an allegory for life is a thought-provoking premise aided enormously by the exquisite multi-dimensional acting of Philip Seymour Hoffman who makes his character’s passion, confusion and ambivalence palpable. He is truly one of his generation’s greatest actors. Christopher Walken as the elder statesman plays his role with warmth and depth giving us a man who has always lived his dream even as that dream is ending. Catherine Keener gives us a confused, hurt woman who was protected only as long as the bow was in her hand. Mark Ivanir is highly effective playing a man who was incapable of letting anyone or anything into his heart, a technical wonder who lacked the passion to make him complete.

I longed for the film to play its music flawlessly but alas the addition of a tentative love affair between Daniel and the daughter of Juliette and Robert was woefully misbegotten. It felt incomplete and tacked on, as a needless additional wedge between Robert, Juliette and David, and whose inadequacy was compounded by the uneven performance of Imogene Poots, a young British actress who has yet to manage an American accent and conveys most emotions by puffing up her already full lips and pouting. While it was a storyline intended to introduce passion to David, it instead created long pauses when none were intended. But ignore the faults and stay for the music. As the credits roll, so does Beethoven and you will find yourself trapped in your seat until the screen goes black.

Opening Friday November 1 in Los Angeles at the Landmark and the Hollywood ArcLight.

Written by Neely | 24 October 2012

“The Other Son,” a thoughtful film directed by Lorraine Lévy from a screenplay by Nathalie Saugeon, Lévy and Noam Fitoussi explores the “switched at birth” chestnut with an Arab/Israeli twist.

When 18 year old Joseph reports for his mandatory Israeli military service, he is informed by the army physician that his blood type matches that of neither of his parents. Investigating further, the military authorities track down the reason. Shortly after Joseph was born in Haifa, everyone in the hospital was evacuated to protect them from a bombing attack. Born at the hospital on the same day to a Palestinian woman stranded there because of the Gulf War was Yacine. When the smoke, figurative and literal, cleared, the newborns were mistakenly given to the wrong mothers. The Jew was raised by the Arabs and the Arab, raised by the Jews.

To an outsider, perhaps, neither child was an intellectual or personality fit for the set of loving parents raising him, the reasons for which would soon become clear. Joseph, a dreamer with musical aspirations was the son of Orith, a physician, and Alon, a commander in the Israeli army. Yacine, soon to enter medical school in Paris, was the son of Leila, a homemaker, and Said, a musician and marginally employed auto mechanic who, without a visa is unable to travel across the heavily guarded border that separates the Palestinians from the prosperous Jewish settlements and find more lucrative work. The socio-economic difference between each side of the border is frighteningly telling as the poverty, lack of opportunity and anger that are the Occupied Territories is mirrored in the anger of Yacine’s brother Bilal, a young man intent on extracting revenge on the Jews for what he perceives, not entirely unjustly, as the cause of his failure.

Joseph puts it poignantly when he questions, “I’m the other one and the other one is me?” As might be expected, it is the mothers who are anxious to meet their biological sons, and of the two, it is the worldly Yacine who is more open to an encounter. Their lives have been upended, but for Yacine it opens new worlds previously off limits. Secure in the love of his parents, he is troubled by the reaction of Bilal who renounces him.

Joseph, always rather unfocussed, floating through life with a song on his lips, is supported strongly by his parents, especially his mother, and, like Yacine, soon understands that the definition of family is about to expand rather than contract. Ironically, Joseph’s place in the world is further challenged when he is informed by the Rabbi that he is no longer a Jew, despite being raised in the faith and his many years of devout study.  Embraced by his parents, he is rejected by his God. Outside influences continue to weigh heavily on both young men, but in hardship and difficulty they find a kinship that ties them together along with the new parents who incorporate them into their lives.

Beautifully acted by a multi-national cast, Emmanuelle Devos as Orith is, perhaps, the most well-known. Her husband Alon is played by Pascal Elbé, and son Joseph by Jule Sitruk. Areen Omari plays Leila with strength and warmth; the sad resignation of Khalifa Natour as Said underscores the wall that prevents a proud man from providing what he would like financially and giving what he can emotionally. Mahmood Shalabi, although presenting a rather monotonous note of anger, eventually opens up his character enough to see the ambivalence that resides within his antagonism. It is Mehdi Dehbi as Yacine who most realistically anchors the film as his character, whose parents have sacrificed much for him to receive an education in France, one that could never have been duplicated in the Occupied Territories, opens our eyes to love rather than hate, acceptance rather than rejection, expansion rather than contraction. Ultimately it is Yacine who transcends the boundaries dictated by birth and religion and sweeps every member of the now-extended family under his umbrella.

Lévy is fairly even-handed, perhaps weighing in slightly more heavily on the Palestinian side as the differences between the Palestinian West Bank and the Jewish Settlements is disconcerting. But, as can certainly be gleaned from this film, there are no easy solutions, sometimes there is only family.

Opening October 26 in both Los Angeles and New York.

Written by Neely | 23 September 2012

DEATH OF A SUPER HERO

Death as a subject is never fun. There is very little up-side because it inevitably leads to… death. There’s no spoiler alert here, so don’t go see “Death of a Superhero” because you think there’s a traditional happily-ever-after ending because there isn’t. Go see “Death of a Superhero” because it’s a fabulous film and will give you an insight into the characters, but most of all into yourself as you go on a journey with Donald, a nihilistic teen who lives in a graphic novel world he created.

Donald, in remission from some sort of life-threatening cancer, is sharp-eyed, cynical and resentful of not only his inevitable fate but the cheery optimism of those around him. A talented graphic artist, Donald lives within the novel he’s created in his imagination in which he is a superhero defending the world, never quite able to achieve his goals or be rewarded by the damsels he saves from distress because an evil master is constantly nipping at his heels.

Donald’s parents, in that hopeful and unrealistic mode we, both as parents and children, recognize, want him to have a normal life, to spend his days in class at the local high school and develop a more positive attitude toward life. To that end, they begin to send him to one psychiatrist after another, all with disastrous results, until, at the end of their collective rope, they send him to the very unorthodox Adrian King. King, no stranger to tragedy himself, shares many of Donald’s nihilistic tendencies. He’s not out to change Donald. His goal, if he has one, is of acceptance. Donald’s been dealt an unfair hand; there’s not much to be done about that. What he can do is recognize what makes him unique and work from there for whatever time he has because it could be day, a year or 10 years. Donald is an exceptionally talented artist and he needs to give himself over to his talent.

But this isn’t just about Donald’s personal journey, but how, in letting go, Donald teaches Adrian to let go of the past regrets that have imprisoned him as well.

Thomas Brodie-Sangster as Donald, has an incredibly blank slate face – seemingly inexpressive on first sight but actually capable of conveying hope, anger, cynicism and optimism all at once. He is a typical teenager, resentful of parental interference and the pat good cheer of the typical therapist while still hoping for the rescue that he imagines might come within the graphic novel in his head. Brodie-Sangster makes you ache with him as he challenges the fates to keep him alive as he engages in increasingly more dangerous activities where he challenges the gods to decide whether he will be dashed against the rocks or live another day. Brodie-Sangster pulls you into Donald and never releases.

Andy Serkis, previously known to audiences primarily in non-human form (“Lord of the Rings,” “The Hobbit,” “Rise of the Planet of the Apes,” “The Adventures of TinTin”) is a revelation as an in-the-flesh, warts-and-all fully developed character. As Adrian King, Serkis gives us a man seemingly in control of his life, but who, long ago, locked himself into a pattern of sensible behavior that allows him to hide from his regrets and sorrows. The subtle interplay between Adrian and Donald grows until the teacher, Adrian, becomes the student and vice versa. It’s a wonderful process to watch and experience. Serkis is that most marvelous of actors who melts into a role and ends up inhabiting the viewer. Already an award-winning television actor in Britain, it is hoped that Serkis will become the leading film actor he deserves to be.

Of special note is the depiction of the graphic arts that play such an important role in Donald’s development. So well done are the graphic novel dream sequences that they invade the viewer’s conscious and enhance the understanding of how great an artist the character is and how important it is for him to come to grips with his extraordinary talent. The art is fantastic and its integration into story is superb.

Director Ian Fitzgibbon, working from a screenplay by Anthony McCarten based on McCarten’s young adult novel of the same name, has given us a thoughtful, insightful, even philosophical portrait of lives worth living regardless of timeframe. It will stay with you quite some time – forever if you’re lucky.

First seen at the Tribeca Film Festival, this extraordinary film being given a one night run as part of the Irish Film Festival at the Aero Theatre in Santa Monica. The second half of a double bill on Thursday, September 27, the marketing of this movie has been severely mishandled. Don’t let it’s placement as a throw-away dissuade you from going. It is an extraordinary film.

Written by Neely | 24 July 2012

DAVID DEAN BOTTRELL MAKES LOVE: A One-Man Show

Don't miss this great play and fabulous performance. Originally part of the Hollywood Fringe Festival, 2 shows have been added: August 4th & 25th at Theatre Asylum (6320 Santa Monica Blvd - at Vine). At $10 per ticket, it's a true bargain! Call (323) 962-1632 for information.

Written by Neely | 06 March 2012

Off Broadway!

I’m in New York for the “semester” and have had a chance finally to discover Off Broadway. Too often when a trip to NYC comes up, the desire to see the big shows is overwhelming. I have always planned my trips around the big shows and the must-see exhibitions at the museums which left little time to explore the so-called outer reaches. Well, not so this time and there’s lots to report.

Broadway is alive and well but this is due almost entirely to the big holdovers like “Wicked,” “Lion King,” “Jersey Boys” and “Book of Mormon.” The new version of “Porgy and Bess” is rapidly gaining an audience; as well it should, if only because of the amazing Audra McDonald (who makes this an absolute must-see).

Like the preceding, almost all the upcoming plays arriving in the spring are musicals – from the revivals of “Jesus Christ Super Star” and “Evita” to the repurposing of films into Musicals like “Newsies,” “Once” and “Ghost” (I’m not kidding). Even the majority of the upcoming “straight” plays are revivals like the star-studded “The Best Man” and “Death of a Salesman.” The exception is a recounting of the Magic Johnson – Larry Bird rivalry called (originally enough) “Magic/Bird.”

But, as can be easily seen, with the dominance of the musical and the star-studded play, little room is left for showcasing the talents of the less famous but excellent theater actor. This season’s plays have led to some startling discoveries, foremost among them Nina Arianda whose name is on the tip of every tongue, or at least every tongue that has been rolled out in awe at her sexy and dramatic performance in “Venus in Fur,” a play that premiered off Broadway last year, and is now ably abetted by the British actor Hugh Dancy. “Other Desert Cities,” still playing after several months (a rarity) boasts a cast led by Stockard Channing, Stacy Keatch, Judith Light, Rachel Griffiths and Justin Kirk, all known justly or unjustly for their television roles but all of whom started in theater. “Seminar” is a hybrid as the only reason to see it is the fabulous Alan Rickman, who until Harry Potter, was primarily known for his great theater work; and the recently closed “Road to Mecca” which added the bankable Carla Gugino, a television and now film actress who first appeared on Broadway less than 10 years ago, to a stellar but less widely known cast that starred Rosemary Harris and Jim Dale. Ms Gugino was quite good in her role and has an excellent stage presence but the real stars were the Broadway veterans and the play by Athol Fugard.

The point of this meandering essay is that for the chance to see revelatory acting and plays, one must head Off Broadway (which is something of a misnomer as most of these smaller theaters are within spitting distance of the other Broadway theaters).  Unlike the small LA theaters, most of these houses are not Equity Waiver making their ventures riskier. Nevertheless, the opportunity to perform in challenging plays with limited runs is very appealing to actors and directors alike. Presently one can have the opportunity to see F. Murray Abraham in Brecht’s “Galileo,” Jane Alexander in Albee’s “The Lady from Dubuque,” Kevin Spacey in Shakespeare’s “Richard the Third,” Norbert Leo Butz in Paula Vogel’s “How I Learned to Drive” and Tonya Pinkins in “Hurt Village.” All are Tony and/or Oscar winners and all are performing right now in smaller theaters with limited runs at prices that are anywhere from 50 to 75% less than the average orchestra seat on Broadway.

Personally, I can’t wait to dive in more. Certainly I want to see the revivals of “Jesus Christ Superstar” and “The Best Man,” but I will hurry to see “Hurt Village” and “Galileo” before they close and can tell you that “The Lady from Dubuque,” “How I Learned to Drive” and “Tribes,” a new play about deafness, both of those afflicted and those not, are excellent and worth seeking. There’s a never ending stream waiting to be fished and I’m going to indulge as much as I can. It’s often not just the plays that surprise but the discovery of actors you didn’t know before, like the brilliant Peter Francis James, Ms. Alexander’s co-star in “The Lady from Dubuque,” a renowned New York Shakespearean actor in both demeanor and voice whose presence in television and film is almost non-existent.

Off Broadway, for those of you like me who rarely paid a visit, is there waiting to offer the riches and splendors that used to be the exclusive domain of Broadway.

Written by Neely | 07 January 2012

"Fruit Fly" written by and Starring Leslie Jordan

Leslie Jordan has a new autobiographical play, “Fruit Fly,” at the Celebration Theatre (7051 Santa Monica Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90046) starting here, starting now but ending February 18, so you’ll have to act quickly because this is not to be missed.

I’m in love with Leslie Jordan. Of course we’re talking wild, passionate, dirty platonic love since we play on different teams, but love him I do. You are probably already acquainted with his elfin presence through his various stints on David E. Kelley shows, first on “Ally McBeal” as the loopy Dr. Benjamin Harris who then crossed over to “Boston Public.” He later reappeared as the happy psychopath Bernard Ferrion on “Boston Legal.” Then, of course, there was his Emmy-winning turn as Beverley Leslie, arch nemesis of Karen on “Will and Grace.” He can presently be seen in a scene-stealing role in “The Help.” Wherever he goes, he makes you smile; sometimes even making you hate yourself for doing so, but smiling nevertheless.

“Fruit Fly” is one of Leslie’s most touchingly hilarious trips down memory lane as he contemplates the question, “Do gay men become their mothers?” In a most intimate of settings, Leslie takes us through his very loving and supportive early childhood, an idyllic time interrupted only by the rude intrusion of baby twin sisters. But they were a mere blip on the radar as Leslie blossomed into the queen that he is today. There were the boys he loved and those who loved him, surreptitiously of course. Naturally there were the familial bumps along the way, like when he informed his mother that he wouldn’t be going to college because he preferred a career as a female impersonator in Atlanta. And there were sad times and rough times with his mother as they grew apart and lived very separate lives, only to come back together as those joined at the hip always must.

The writing, as in all of Leslie’s plays, is warm and winning and delivered with a combination of sharp observation and poignancy. Don’t miss this play and especially don’t miss the opportunity of seeing this amazing actor perform his own material in a warm, inviting environment.

Written by Neely | 17 November 2011

“David Dean Bottrell Makes Love: A One Man Show”

The opening scene has been posted on “Funny or Die” and I’m lucky enough to be able to give you the link. So take a look and get a peek at why I love David and his writing - "David Dean Bottrell Makes Love." This show is a delight not to be missed, but you must hurry because its run is extremely limited. David, an expressive very funny performer who infuses all his writing and acting with a warmth that can only come from a good soul, recounts his travails at finding love in a world divided into two parts – those who are attracted to him and those to whom he is attracted. Judging from such a statement, one would assume that he has been very unlucky in love and perhaps, to a certain extent, he has but he is willing to share his take and we are better for it.

He’s no choirboy, as the other vignettes reveal, but David is a writer of great depth who is funny, sweet, knowing, caustic and realistic and all wrapped up in the package of a subtle, sincere and accomplished actor who, though he lost the accent, has never lost some of the Kentucky of his childhood.

Now playing at the Rogue Machine in Theatre/ Theater at 5041 W. Pico Blvd. Call (323) 930-0747

Written by Neely | 03 November 2011

"Prime Suspect" on NBC. Thursdays at 10:00 p.m.

Even a glance at "Remaking film and TV favorites", under "Neely Uncensored" lets you know that I'm not especially fond of the repurposing of previous material. There have been exceptions and "Prime Suspect" on Thursday at 10:00 p.m. on NBC is one of those exceptions. Maria Bello is a game changer and brings life to what is not a copy of the Helen Mirren British series. This Jane is up against chauvinistic cops, something real cops probably say is unrealistic in today's society, but I'm guessing isn't totally unrealistic. And even if it is... this is television done for dramatic effect. Drama depends on obstacles and conflict and Alexandra Cunningham has expertly written complexity into her character. And what a character! Maria Bello is a game changer - one of the very best actresses plying her trade on television for a change. And do I care that she wears a hipster hat? Not much more than seeing it on a guy. I care much more that Maria Bello brings a much needed complexity and character development to a genre usually lacking in both. If you haven't seen it, tune in; if you have, give it another chance.

Written by Neely | 08 October 2011

“Follies”

If you are going to be in New York within the next few months, then run, don’t walk, to get tickets to see “Follies,” now playing at the Marquis Theater on Broadway.  One of Sondheim’s best, and I will admit to not liking much after “Merrily We Roll Along,” I have always enjoyed the conceit of the play.

The first and last reunion of former “Follies” girls and stars takes place on the eve of the demolition of the theater. Full of memorable numbers, including “I’m Still Here,” “Could I Leave You,” and “Losing My Mind,” “Follies” is a story of regret – the loss of attention, the loss of career, the loss of youth, loss in general. And nowhere is this loss more heavily felt than with the two women who, in their Follies days, were roommates – Phyllis and Sally. At one time best friends, it was Sally’s boyfriend Buddy who introduced his friend Ben to Phyllis.

Buddy, a born salesman and glad-hander, was besotted with Sally and remains so to this day. Ben, a lawyer who became a politician’s politician, finds joy in absolutely nothing, including Phyllis, his by-now glacial wife. Sally, never satisfied with what life dealt her, has come to the reunion in hopes of seeing Ben, convinced that their long-ago affair, while each was attached to their future spouses, was the only thing real her life; that it was always she that Ben loved. And Phyllis? Phyllis lost touch with feelings long ago. Having become the trophy that Ben wanted and needed in her life, she lost herself. Ben no longer knows what he wants, but is sure that whatever it is, he doesn’t have it. It is a weekend that brings all the unspoken regret, lost dreams and recriminations to the forefront.

No one has what they want or thought they wanted. The only victory is survival, as personified in the showstopping song “I’m Still Here,” sung by Carlotta, the former Follies star who went from film to television stardom, none of it satisfactory.

The cast, led by Bernadette Peters as Sally, Jan Maxwell as Phyllis, Danny Burstein as Buddy and Ron Raines as Ben is uniformly outstanding. Bernadette Peters will break your heart with her years of false hope and dissatisfaction; Danny Burstein will make you ache with his sincerity; Ron Raines  will send a blast of frigid air through your soul; but it is Jan Maxwell who will tear at your throat with her rage – what she was, what she became, what she lost.

I saw this play on stage when I was in my 20s and I marvel that I understood anything at the time. Perhaps one has to age to fully understand regret – or maybe one just needs to see Jan Maxwell sing “Lucy was Juicy” to understand it.

Written by Neely | 17 August 2011

“No Way Out”

I elected to watch “No Way Out,” the 1987 film written by Robert Garland and directed by Roger Donaldson, because of Robert Tannen’s expressed enthusiasm. Having seen it when it first came out, I wondered whether it had held up over the years. It has (and then some).

Tom Farrell, a Navy hero, is hired by his college friend Scott Pritchard, chief of staff to the Secretary of Defense, David Brice, to be Brice’s new assistant. Brice’s main goal in his final administrative tour of duty is to eliminate the Phantom submarine project favored by Senator Duval, the powerful head of the Armed Services Committee. Farrell’s Naval presence in the Secretary’s office is to diffuse suspicion of Brice’s plans. Farrell, it turns out, is the perfect front man poised in ways he doesn’t yet know to take the fall if things go south; and go south they do.

Prior to joining the Secretary’s staff, Farrell, invited to a black tie event above his grade by Pritchard, met Susan Atwell, the beautiful “kept” woman of a mysterious married power player. Instantly attracted to one another, an anonymous one night stand eventually becomes a deep and torrid love affair fraught with danger as Farrell discovers the identity of Susan’s lover – David Brice.

One evening Brice arrives unexpectedly and Farrell must make a hurried exit. The next morning Susan is discovered dead and Pritchard contrives to hide Brice’s involvement by inventing the presence of a Soviet mole cum mystery lover as the suspected murderer. Assigning Farrell to the job of assisting a National Security in finding the imaginary mole/murderer, Farrell must find a way to divert attention from himself as the noose begins to tighten around his own neck.

Donaldson takes full advantage of Garland’s excellent script (an extremely loose remake of “The Big Clock,” an excellent 1947 film starring Charles Laughton and Ray Milland) in devoting a great deal of time to developing the characters, thus allowing the audience to be fully vested in Farrell’s dilemma and emotions and follow him on his perilous breathtaking ride to protect his innocence in the face of steadily diminishing odds. Once the death occurs and the cover-up begins, the pace is relentless up to and including the very last surprising twist.

It is because of the painstaking way in which Donaldson explored the character of Farrell that we are willing to suspend belief and take the journey. So good is Donaldson at his job that Costner’s wooden acting is only marginally annoying; taking a page from the John Ford/John Wayne notebook, as the action and pace increase, Costner’s dialogue decreases.

Donaldson’s ability to explore character has enhanced all of his films from “Bounty,” the superb retelling of “Mutiny on the Bounty” with Mel Gibson and Anthony Hopkins; “Cocktail” with Tom Cruise; the better than it should have been remake of “The Getaway” with Alec Baldwin and Kim Basinger; and “The Bank Job,” the 2008 sleeper of a thriller about a London bank heist in the 1970s. High budget or low, Donaldson uses that character development to tighten suspense and increase the pace, taking the viewer on a fast-paced, always interesting ride, relying on story telling rather than explosions and quick cut photography.

I can’t wait to see his next film – “The Hungry Rabbit Jumps.”

Written by Neely | 25 July 2011

“Let Me Down Easy” conceived, written and performed by Anna Deavere Smith.

Run (do not walk) immediately to the Broad Stage in Santa Monica to see Anna Deavere Smith’s latest one woman show entitled “Let Me Down Easy,” a compendium of small vignettes primarily centering around health care (or lack thereof).

Like much of her previous work, Ms. Smith conducted hundreds of interviews, and from them she created the 22 vignettes she performs. Using minimal props, she effectively becomes each subject, allowing the audience into the room, an observer to the conversation.

Effortlessly becoming each individual, it is easy to forget that we are watching Ms. Smith. Consider, for example, the case of Brent Williams, a rodeo bull rider from Idaho who was severely injured in the ring. Alive only because a physician was in the audience, Williams injuries were recognized as life threatening and he was treated at the closest facility – a military hospital. Williams blandly recounts his experience and that of his other hospitalizations resulting from close encounters of the bovine kind. While infusing his conversation with a macho blitheness, one senses, nevertheless, his awe at what medicine has done for him.

So too is the slice of life presented by Lauren Hutton recognizing that fame and the resultant connections enabled her access to top rank physicians; a recognition also acknowledging that the vast majority of people will never be so fortunate. But it is her humility in knowing that the bedrock on which her fortune lies was that initial million dollar Revlon contract so many years ago, and gratitude that it yielded something of such depth and value, something that saved her life. It is Ms. Deavere’s artistry that allows such sympathy and understanding to come through.

One of my very favorite snippets, however, focused on Ruth Katz who had the misfortune of being treated at the Yale New Haven Hospital on a particularly chaotic day, one where none of the patient records could be located. Blunt in her assessment of the disorganization and quality of care, when asked yet again for her history and why she was being treated, Ms. (actually Dr.) Katz continued to reply and cooperate. When asked by the resident physician for her occupation, Dr. Katz indicated that she was an Associate Dean. Associate Dean of what? Ironically, Associate Dean of the Yale Medical School. Her records were found a half hour later. And for those others? Again, Ms. Deavere successfully communicates the unspoken as well as the verbal.

Emotions ran high in the story of Dr. Kiersta Kurtz-Burke of the Charity Hospital of New Orleans. During Hurricane Katrina, Dr. Kurtz-Burke was in the unenviable position of caring for an abandoned population in an abandoned hospital, the hospital where she began her training as a medical student and the hospital where she had made her career. Though that population was poor, she had always been proud of her ability to offer first rate care. Communicating that sense of abandonment, we were plunged into the depths with her knowing that our government would allow a segment of the population to die because they had insufficient means.

Anna Deavere Smith is a coveted jewel and has been recognized with a MacArthur Award, two Tony nominations, a nomination for the Pulitzer Price, an Obie, a Drama Desk Award, and innumerable honorary degrees. Go see “Let Me Down Easy” and you’ll understand why.

Hurry. “Let Me Down Easy” ends current run at the Broad on July 31.

The Broad Stage
1310 11th St.,
Santa Monica, CA 90401
(310) 434-3200

Performances begin August 10-Sept. 4, 2011 at the Berkeley Rep

Berkeley Rep
2025 Addison St.
Berkeley, CA 94704
(510) 647-2949

Written by Neely | 14 June 2011

FILM NEWS BRIEFS - A GREAT RESOURCE

Our friends at Film News Briefs, accessible online at filmnewsbriefs.com, provide an invaluable service by synopsizing the entertainment-related stories of the day culled from the leading trade journals and websites covering the biz. Intelligently and succinctly summarized, Film News Briefs also provides a link to the original source.  With sections that cover “Projects,” “Updates,” “Film Acquisitions/Film Festivals,” “Business/Legal,” “Technology/Multi-Platform Content,” “Websites to Watch” (in which No Meaner Place has been featured twice), as well as a weekly “Opinion” posting, you can keep current all at the incredible low price of FREE.

My thanks go to Film News Briefs for making my morning easier. The headlines tell me what’s happening and the links allow me to dive deeper.  I highly recommend that you discover this incredible resource. Subscribe today – it’s FREE!

Written by Neely | 11 May 2011

"The earth didn’t just move, it was an EARTHQUAKE: women pilot writers in 2011"

As a follow-up to last year's article "Women Can't Create and White Men Can't Jump," I looked at the situation that emerged from this year's pilot season and found that there was a great deal of change; in some cases it was earth-shattering!

The following is a snippet from the article:

"Very little worked last year so minds opened wider to find some different voices, different perspectives. Whether this crop works better than last year’s, who knows? It’s almost impossible to do worse.  So hats off to the network and studio execs who may have been listening. You made great strides and the hope is that more will be made. There are lots of different voices out there – perspectives from different genders, orientations and ethnicities. One can only hope that the powers that be will continue to try to make television reflect the viewing audience a bit more than it has. It may still be a man’s world, but clearly, they aren’t the only ones holding the remote control. Last year’s few successful new shows featured women over 60 (Kathy Bates in “Harry’s Law” and Cloris Leachman in “Keep Hope Alive”), a vastly overweight cop (Billy Gardell), African American leads (Delroy Lindo and Jennifer Beals in “Chicago Code”), and Asian/Asian American supporting players (Daniel Dae Kim and Grace Park in the mega-hit “Hawaii 5-0).

In all honesty, the viewing audience doesn’t care about the ethnicity or gender of the writer; what they care about is seeing something interesting and entertaining, whether drama or comedy. This year the net was cast wider and the resulting pilots were much more interesting and better written than the previous year. This is not to say that the ultimate choices will succeed, and, given the pilots receiving the most publicity and heat leaking from the network viewing rooms, some of those choices are likely to be disheartening; but unlike the previous year, everything was not cookie-cutter safe. We can only hope that the net continues to widen and that the writing staffs on the shows picked up to series reflect the diversity of voices that are available."

Analyzing the situation from network to network, see how much wider the net was cast when compared to last year by reading the full article at "The Earth didn't just move, it was an Earthquake."

Written by Neely | 13 April 2011

Film: “Potiche”

François Ozon is back with another film tribute to women of a certain age starring Catherine Deneuve (Suzanne) as, not exactly a “trophy wife” (which is the common translation of “potiche”) but rather as a woman who’s been put on the shelf by her husband, to be dusted off only on occasions where her family name and reputation are of use to him.  It is 1977, and Robert, her husband of 30 years (played by the incomparable Fabrice Luchini), now owns and autocratically runs the umbrella factory started by Suzanne’s father. Robert is a modern business man with a nouveau riche disdain for workers and their demands. When a strike threatens the factory, Robert would rather shut down than acquiesce to the (actually very reasonable) demands of his workers. Infuriated, they take him hostage and Suzanne must call upon the town mayor and legislative representative (and, as it turns out, one-time lover) to assist in freeing Robert. Socialist Mayor Babin (Gerard Dépardieu) agrees to help on condition that Suzanne get Robert to discuss the workers’ demands. Upon learning that his release was facilitated by his enemy, Babin, Robert has an apoplectic fit and is hospitalized with a heart attack.

Although Suzanne’s only known talents have been as a mother and housekeeper, she is called upon to take Robert’s place at the factory. She has, it turns out, a true gift for sympathetic management; she listens carefully and accedes to the most reasonable of the demands. Realizing that a great opportunity has been missed in not including her children in the business, she gives both her son and daughter responsible positions. Suzanne takes as her closest aid her husband’s secretary Nadege (Karen Viard), not knowing (or slyly perhaps she does) that Nadege has been her husband’s mistress for quite some time.

Under Suzanne’s leadership, the factory has never been more productive, to the effect that when Robert returns from his “cure” she refuses to give up the reigns, forcing him into the position of “potiche.”  When, at last, he is able to stage a coup and return, Suzanne refuses to go back to her previous existence. She has other plans, plans that will upset the balance of the status quo. The Women’s Movement has finally arrived and Suzanne is now fully aware of her abilities. This is no time to stop.

Ozon, who single handedly has resurrected the careers of a whole generation of older actresses, beginning with Charlotte Rampling, is, once again, very much in tune with the power and beauty of women of a certain age and, in a double coup, uses one of those women (Deneuve) to best advantage in illustrating that ignoring such a resource is beyond wasteful. The acting is delightful. Luchini is always a revelation in his ability to find the slightly (and only slightly) sympathetic thread in a wholly unsympathetic character. His eyes are truly the mirror of his soul. Deneuve is better than ever, as her comic timing is wonderful; and Dépardieu gives us his best range from blustery to vulnerable. A masterful writer and director, Ozon has produced a comedy of manners, substance and depth, with just enough irony and bittersweet moments to deepen the film beyond the humor. You’ll laugh and I defy you not to be moved as well.

Written by Neely | 30 March 2011

Art: Shot by the Writer and Heated Words

Tom Benedek, well known screenwriter and adjunct professor at USC has an exhibit of his photographs and sculptures at Frank’s Pictures in  Bergamont Station, on now through April 12. An homage to the process whereby scripts are assigned to one writer who toils and toils only to have them sent to others, Tom’s photos and sculptures are a reminder that nothing is ever cast in bronze (as in his bronzed script); that in this case “shot by the writer” means bullet-riddled; and writer’s block can be a script embedded in a (plexiglass) ice block. The melding of the written word with other art forms is exceptionally creative and playful in Tom’s hands.

Go see the exhibit in the gallery where the art is beautifully displayed, but if you are unable to do so, check out the selections on Tom’s website: http://tombenedek.com

Written by Neely | 12 March 2011

Film: "Of Gods and Men”

Cistercian Monks living a life of quiet solitude in the Atlas Mountains of Algeria does not shout or even whisper feature film and yet an incredibly powerful motion picture it is. Winner of the Cesar Awards for best picture, best supporting actor and best cinematography, “Of Gods and Men” directed by Xavier Beauvois, written by Beauvois and Etienne Comar, did not even garner a nomination for best foreign film at the Oscars. One can only assume that our system is broken when room is found for 10 best picture nominations, five of which were, at best, marginal, and there was no room at the inn for this visually, psychologically and spiritually inspiring film in any category.

The story is deceptively simple – Catholic monks living in the mountains have become a mainstay of the surrounding villages, offering solicited counsel, medical care, support and friendship to the Muslim inhabitants. Their religion is practiced quietly within the walls of the monastery; their unobtrusive non-sectarian leadership is practiced outside its walls. Never proselytizing, they are versed in the Koran, and when dealing with their neighbors, both friend and foe, refer to their own rituals within an Islamic context.

1996 was an especially bloody year in the short history of modern Algeria, although the peak in violence was still one year away. The terrorist organization GIA (Armed Islamist Group) had begun slaughtering whole villages in the name of Islamic purity, targeting foreigners, intellectuals, journalists, so-called government sympathizers, and ordinary citizens who they deemed not sufficiently supportive of their cause. The monks are an obvious target and are advised to leave before it is too late by both the terrorists and the local government. Backed into an immovable wall by the terrorists, who blame the corrupt government and military for the ills of their country and the government, who place the blame on previous French colonialism for what ails Algeria, the monks must decide whether to go or stay. For, as the doctor, Brother Luc, played by the incomparable Michael Lonsdale, reads aloud from Pascal’s Pensées, “Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from a religious conviction."

Weighing heavily on Brother Christian, the appointed leader of the group, is the expressed desire of the villagers that they remain, villagers who are as perplexed as they are by the irrational violence that is overtaking their country. Asked by one of the villagers if they intend to stay, one of the monks responds, "We are like birds on a branch. We don't know if we'll leave." The villager replies, "You are the branch. If you go, we lose our footing."

Making a unilateral decision to stay for the present, Brother Christian is excoriated by several of his fellow monks – those who recognize that staying is signing their own death warrant and are unwilling to accede. Thus truly begins the intimate journey this film takes us on, a journey that is not particularly religious but is one of belief and value. All of the monks must address the question of why they do what they do, their purpose in life. For, although they are men of religion and their purpose may ostensibly be to serve God, is not their true purpose to serve others selflessly, to show strength and give solace and support?  Gradually they all come to unanimity in their understanding of why they became men of God and what that means. In an extraordinarily touching scene, the men have their own “last supper” as Brother Luc brings out two cherished bottles of burgundy to accompany their dinner. As inevitable as their impending demise is, they have arrived at a peace, solidarity, and calm that can only come with the self awareness of a life of purpose well-lived.

A who’s who of French dramatic actors, led by Lambert Wilson as Brother Christian, brilliantly bring Xavier Beauvois’ film to life. This is a film not to be missed by believer and non-believer alike for, in the end, it is a personal journey of choice applicable to any belief system, religious or otherwise, be it work, family or self. Curiously, the American distributors seem to have erred on the side of religion as the title in French is “Des Hommes et des Dieux” which, translated, is “Of Men and Gods,” a more applicable title as the film is about belief not religion.

Written by Neely | 13 February 2011

Television: "Justified"

Like blowback from a coke furnace at full blast, the new season of “Justified” began this week. With a story written by Elmore Leonard and Graham Yost (teleplay by Graham Yost), the episode began without reprise, without explanation, without excuses. A dead body lying in the front yard, two well-armed killers train their guns on a cabin inhabited by an injured man, Boyd, a woman, Ava, and a cool character in a hat, Raylan Givens. Murder, drugs, duplicity, and non stop action rivet the viewer to the seat. The cause for this firestorm is unimportant; survival issues prevail as Raylan plots their escape. And escape they do, by creating a diversion and shooting one of the killers. Whether acquainted with the protagonists or not, the character of each is well laid out within the unfolding crisis – one man is primarily responsible for the attack and is reactive; one man is a reluctant hero who will devise the escape with cunning and calm; and both men will protect the woman who is a catalyst but not a player. No explanations, no excuses. The story eventually plays out in such a way that the action driving the plot becomes clear. Drug dealers have been screwed and are intent on revenge. Raylan, prone to shooting first and asking questions later, has engineered a way out of the situation and ending the drug war with one dead on each side.

In a brilliant bit of visual exposition and rapid fire dialogue by characters from his past (none of whom are introduced), anyone watching the show for the first time will come to learn that Raylan had been a Marshall in Florida but had then been banished to his jerkwater home district in Harlan, KY – death in so many different ways. Offered his old job, he instead chooses to return to Harlan. And it is at this point, having neatly and dramatically wrapped up the previous story that Leonard and Yost usher in a new, deadly and local conflict. The Marshall’s office is charged with finding a child molester rumored to be working in the valley with the local marijuana drug kingpin – or in this case queenpin in the guise of a deceivably benign mother-type (as Roger Corman might have imagined her) played by the wonderful Margo Martindale.

Yost and Leonard have done the unthinkable in this brilliant episode. They reintroduced a premise pilot without a premise. Action, character and then a premise. Don’t miss this or any episode in the series

Written by Neely | 26 January 2011

"Another Year"

“Another Year,” slyly and subtly written and directed by Mike Leigh, sneaks up on the viewer; it really doesn’t seem to be about much. A story bracketed by the seasons and ostensibly about Tom (Jim Broadbent) and Gerri (Ruth Sheen) who live ordinary lives in the outskirts of London, it ends up being more about the life worth living than it is about the road not taken.

Leigh opens on an extreme close-up of the miserable, care-worn Janet (Imelda Staunton), a woman who has come to a public clinic for sleeping pills to assuage her insomnia. In her interview of Janet, the physician recognizes deeper problems and refers her to the clinic’s social worker, Gerri.  “How would you describe your life on a scale of 1 to 10?” Gerri asks her. Her reply: “1.” “If you could change just one thing, make a small start; just one thing, what would you change?” “I want another life,” she says. A deceptive beginning as we never again encounter Janet. And yet, in many ways, this is the story of Janet. How many among us, unhappy for one reason or another, are capable of attempting one small change that might lead to the ability to make another, and then another, eventually leading out of the depressing morass into which we all occasionally fall.

Tom and Gerri (and yes, they are aware of the absurdity of their names) are just such a couple, capable of assessing and reassessing their needs, both as a couple and as individuals. Many years married, they take joy in the everyday discoveries of life. They love their respective jobs and each other, and are exceptionally generous to their friends who have remained in their lives as regularly as the seasons pass. Tom and Gerri work at their relationship in the same way they work their patch in the communal garden – using the right tools to work the soil, weed, cut back, reseed and harvest. This has also paid off marvelously in their relationship with their son Joe. Content in his job, always making the best of his circumstances, it is clear that, like his parents, he is capable of seeing the good and making changes to eliminate as much of the negative as possible. When he finally finds someone to love, it is clear that he has chosen someone whose attitude toward life is much like his own. We have every confidence that they will live their lives in quiet contentment like his parents.

The two significant long-time friends passing through the lives of Tom and Gerri are Ken, Tom’s friend from long ago, and Mary, Gerri’s co-worker. Each is dissatisfied with the life “handed” to them, each feed off Tom and Gerri, at once grateful for their support and yet resentful at their seeming happiness, and each is incapable of making that one small step toward change.  Victims they have made themselves and victims they will always be. Ken (Peter Wight), in a job he hates, is unable to make a positive move; instead, he finds solace at the local pub by downing far too many beers each evening, continuing his descent in a downward spiral. Mary (brilliantly played by Leslie Manville), trapped by her own expectations of failure, looks to feed off Tom and Gerri, even trying to seduce their (much younger) son Joe. Her one feeble attempt to break free in a small way – the purchase of a car – is doomed from the start by her fear and damned by the bad luck she assumes will be hers forever.

The seasons pass – Spring, with the new plantings; Summer, with its bountiful fruits and vegetables; Fall with the final harvest and prunings; Winter, with the cutting back and digging out to be ready for the oncoming Spring. In any life happiness comes and goes, but the lucky achieve lives of quiet contentment by, as Voltaire’s Candide might have expressed it, cultivating their gardens.

Written by Neely | 18 January 2011

Movie: “The Concert”

Opening in Los Angeles this week for a limited run, “The Concert” may surprise you. Andrei Filipov (Alexei Guskov), once an internationally renowned conductor of the Bolshoi Orchestra, now cleans its stages, the victim of a purge in 1980 when Brezhnev commanded that he eliminate the Jews in the orchestra. Both unwilling, philosophically, and unable, from the standpoint of musical integrity, Filipov is humiliated publicly by the Communist Party and stripped of his duties in the midst of conducting Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto, performed by the exquisitely talented Lea, an activist who soon after is sent to Siberia and dies  He and the remaining disenfranchised musicians from the era continue, 30 years later, to scrape by in borderline, non-musical jobs.

When, one serendipitous day, while cleaning the musical director’s office, a fax comes through from the Chatelet Theatre in Paris offering to engage the Bolshoi Orchestra for a concert in two weeks time as a substitute for the last minute cancellation of the Los Angeles Philharmonic. Ripping the fax from the machine, Filipov has come up with his own version of “the impossible dream.” What if he could pull together an orchestra from the colleagues fired so long ago, redeeming his reputation and giving them one last chance for glory? Enlisting the services of Ivan, the very apparatchik who humiliated him on the podium 30 years before, as impresario because of his negotiation skills and French fluency, Andre, disguising himself as the conductor of the Bolshoi (which he was so long ago) accepts the invitation and begins to track down his former colleagues.  The requisite number of musicians are eventually found, passports obtained, thanks to the services of the Gypsy concertmaster, a concertmaster when it comes to forgery as well, and off they go to Paris. Andrei is determined to resurrect his reputation, give his colleagues one last moment in the sun, and right a wrong that resulted in both a birth and a death.

Shameless stereotypes abound - racial, ethnic, sexual orientation, you name it; hoary sentimentality infects all aspects of the production; implausible coincidences and circumstances are the norm. Do not go to this film expecting character depth, realism, and intellectual growth – it’s not there. What is there is entertainment from an old fashioned Hollywood era. Implausible from start to finish, it is baldly hilarious up to its shamefully exploitative sentimental finish – enjoyable at every turn, if you allow it to be. As a close friend remarked, it has an unbelievable plot with stereotypical characters; it’s embarrassingly funny and totally emotionally satisfying. If you don’t cry at the end, you probably checked your heart at the door.

Written by Neely | 07 December 2010

Movie: "The King's Speech"

“The King’s Speech,” masterfully directed by Tom Hooper, beautifully written by David Seidler, and inhabited by actors Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush who have never given better performances, this film is a perfect storm of brilliance.  If this sounds like hyperbole, then by all means go see it and I’ll be surprised if you don’t agree. Not only is this one of the screen’s most memorable pairings, as Kenneth Turan of the “L.A. Times” declared in his review, but the film also serves up a deceptively disguised feast of pre-World War II history.

Albert, Duke of York, second son of the reigning King George V and younger brother of Edward, Prince of Wales, known to everyone, but especially to his twice divorced paramour Wallis Simpson, as David. Albert, a stutterer, faced humiliation on a regular basis when called on to appear in public and speak. Quiet, shy, trained as a naval officer, a good husband and father, Albert wanted nothing more than to be as far from the limelight as possible. Having tried many times to find a suitable therapist for his “stammer,” he finally resigns himself to failure and informs his wife that he will look no longer.  The Duchess of York, however, realizing that failure is not an option for any one of a number of reasons, most importantly personal, seeks out the services of an unorthodox specialist as a last resort, Australian Lionel Logue. Logue, unintimidated by the status of his newest pupil, insists on absolute equality, daring to call the Duke by his pet name, Bertie, and requesting that the Duke call him by his first name, Lionel. A rocky relationship ensues as Lionel insists on delving into personal matters with the Duke in order to try to uncover the root cause of the speech impediment.  Adding to the Duke’s anxiety is the ill health of his bullying father, the increasing irresponsibility of his elder brother David, and the unrest in Europe with Hitler’s rise. Following the death of his father and the coronation of his brother as Edward VII, the cabinet and advisors increasingly relied on Albert to try to get the new King to focus on the affairs of state instead of his affairs of the heart. Disheartened at his lack of success in convincing his brother to rise to his rank, Albert becomes terrified of the path that will lie before him if his brother abdicates for the woman he loves – a life always in the public eye where he will be called on to lead his country in the figurative sense.  Having previously broken with Logue over Logue’s incessant prying, Albert realizes that he must redouble his efforts in overcoming his inability to speak with any natural flow and returns, top hat in hand, to his therapist.

Even more than a historical portrayal of the time, it is a deeply painted portrait of the trust developed between a man who has faced petty betrayals all his life and has never had a friend, Albert, and a man whose ability to accomplish miracles is dependent on trust and faith, Lionel. It is also a subtle portrait of love – the love of the soon-to-be king for his country, but more importantly the love the man exhibited as a husband and father who wanted nothing more than a quiet family life.  Following the abdication, Albert’s wife, soon to be Queen Elizabeth, too early a widow but always a beloved figure as the Queen Mother, refused to acknowledge Simpson, never referring to her by her title (Duchess). Further, until the funeral of the Duke of Windsor in 1972, she never again spoke to her. Elizabeth, like her husband, had always wanted a quiet family life and felt that the stress upon her husband when he assumed the throne had led him to an early death at the age of 57.

Geoffrey Rush is wonderful, as are the supporting cast that includes Helena Bonham Carter as the Duchess of York, Jennifer Ehle as Logue’s wife, Guy Pearce as the Prince of Wales, Eve Best as his consort, Derek Jacobi as the officious and patronizing Archbishop of Canterbury, and a frightening Michael Gambon as King George V. But if not for any other reason, go see Colin Firth deliver the performance of his life in material that will mark this film as a classic.

Written by Neely | 22 November 2010

Movie: "For Colored Girls"

Adapted by Tyler Perry from the play entitled “For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuff” by Ntozake Shange, this drama interweaves the tales of 9 very different women whose lives intersect in dramatic ways. Originally a play based on poetic vignettes expressing the difficulties and sorrows of women of color – their hopes, desires and tragedies – Perry has found a way to expand the stories of the women and retain much of the poetry from the original. To presume this is a film limited to one ethnicity or another is a huge mistake as these stories, universal in their message, relate to all of us – men, women, black, white, brown or purple.  As a writer, Perry has shown new depth unimaginable from the author of “Why Did I Get Married;” as a director, he has drawn out Oscar-worthy performances from the terribly underused and enormously talented Kimberly Elise as well as the increasingly brilliant Loretta Devine who more than lives up to her last name. Equally outstanding and heart-breaking were Anika Noni Rose and Thandie Newton; Phylicia Rashad, in a role that could be considered “the Greek chorus” effortlessly tied many of the dramatic thru-lines together. In a minor but thoroughly chilling role, Macy Gray portrays a back alley abortionist. This is the kind of thought-provoking film that Hollywood used to make. Instead of complaining about what used to be, go see this film because “what used to be” is still being made – and it was Tyler Perry who made this one.

Written by Neely | 29 October 2010

Film: “Mao’s Last Dancer”

This exquisite independent film tells the story of Li Cuxin, a ballet dancer plucked from his village at an early age to train at the newly created dance academy in Beijing during the Cultural Revolution. Given a summer internship at the Houston Ballet in 1971, he made international news when he married an American and was locked in the Chinese Consulate in an attempt to prevent his defection. Beautifully directed by Bruce Beresford, this film is incredibly emotionally satisfying and contains some of the very best ballet cinematography captured on film.

Books: The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot

When Henrietta Lacks, a poor black woman, went to the clinic at Johns Hopkins to be treated for her cervical cancer, she was unaware that a sample of her tumor was removed for experimental purposes. The cells from that tumor, called HeLa, are in continuous use today in the search for treatments of all manner of disease.Skloot traces not just the science behind the cells but also the history of the woman's family.