Showing posts with label American Hustle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label American Hustle. Show all posts

Sunday, January 19, 2014

The Top Ten Films of 2013

For we small-time movie bloggers with full-time jobs and limited access, the top ten lists always come out a little late, as we spend much of December and the early months of the next year to hunt down and consume as many of the must-see films we'd missed as possible, and try to get this list completed by the Oscars, when the previous year becomes a permanent fixture of the past. So, given all that, I'd say we made good time this year. Here is our collaborative list, as well as the remainders of our individual lists

Rollie's Picks
Jon's Picks

1. Blue Jasmine (Rollie - #1, Jon - #5)
A class war in a powder-keg, Woody Allen has crafted a poignant family comedy into a frank examination of income inequality, an indictment of idle wealth, and a tragic portrait of the contemporary poor. This is a comedy befitting comparisons to those of Preston Sturgess, invoking the plight of the working man, and doubling as a cautionary tale for the dated tradition of women who elect to define themselves by the men in their lives, investing their fortunes in a patriarchal society. That Blue Jasmine is the best film of the year depends on the tact and the craft with which Allen melds so many prescient issues into such a modest pleasure.


2. The Wolf of Wall St. (John - #1, Rollie - #6)
Martin Scorsese's latest film is, on the face of things, a dark comedy about the hedonism and excess that reigned on Wall Street during the high-flying 1980s. Beyond that, it's also a masterpiece that encapsulates and further explores all the themes that have permeated Scorsese's films since the 1970s -- temptation, sin and the ruinous ramifications of living life without a centre. Scorsese also plays some fun games in his narrative with the audience about voyeurism, the desire for wealth and escapism. Scorsese knows that he's in a similar business to the one that Jordan Belfort engaged in with his securities fraud, and while Scorsese's racket is substantially more moral, he seems to still have some kind of Catholic guilt complex about it.

3. Mystery Road (Jon - #2, Rollie, N/A)
Mystery Road is an elegant thriller, a gripping drama, a visual feast and at times even a solid action picture. Anchored by the sure directorial hand of Ivan Sen and a cast of actors that are uniformly stupendous (Aaron Pederson and Hugo Weaving are two that spring to mind), Mystery Road is a smart movie, realistic about race relations in remote Australia while also being aware of the need for its central murder mystery to work. It builds to a finale that retains the elegant pacing of the rest of the film while also proving to be more exciting and tense than most big studio cops and robbers films.


4. Inside Llewyn Davis (Rollie - #2, Jon - N/A)
Llewyn Davis, the struggling folk artist at the heart of the Coen Brothers’ latest masterpiece, exists inconsequentially within a time and a place where the very cultural paradigm shift he had advocated was occurring anyway. With him? Without him? He’s hurling stones at the tide, so to speak. Inside Llewyn Davis becomes a film that challenges our sense of purpose, and becomes one of the most political films the brothers Coen have produced, looking harshly on the “institution” as an abstract, plutocratic conceit that suffocates individualism, making Llewyn’s isolating hesitancy toward his peers the arbiter of his own failure.

5. Blue is the Warmest Color (Rollie - #3, Jon, N/A)
A visceral, physical movie of extraordinary emotional vulnerability, “Blue is the Warmest Color” looks at the galvanized culture of the LGBTQ community as a byproduct of social exclusion, dictated by the very element of their identity that finds them ostracized in the first place, and observes the intense social difficulties that arise from being gay without participating in that culture. French director Abdellatif Kechiche’s use of sex as an arena for revelation, both for maturity and for desire, is transformative. Scenes of exhilarating duration are choreographed like thrilling action set-pieces. It is fearless film making.


6. Lincoln (Jon - #3, Rollie - N/A) ('Lincoln' was a 2012 release in America)
Steven Spielberg's Lincoln is essentially the sort of film we would expect a docudrama about Abraham Lincoln to be -- reverent, sombre, sumptuously detailed, beautifully photographed. It worships Honest Abe, even to the point that it takes some liberties with history to really lionize him. Spielberg, though, is a sure handed, competent director whose evocation of the ending of the Civil War and emphasizing on the strengths of Lincoln as a leader cast a mesmerizing and touching spell. Daniel Day-Lewis interprets the cadences and tics of the great man to magnificent effect, and his performance provides the audience with something the film desperately needed to be effective -- a personal connection to the 16th President.

7. American Hustle (Jon - #4, Rollie - N/A)
David O. Russell - that most artistically mercurial of modern American indie directors - outdoes himself with American Hustle, an almost undefinable combination of humour, thriller, docudrama and analysis of American social milieu. Christian Bale once again completely transforms himself physically for the role of con man Irving Rosenfeld, who along with his partner Sydney (Amy Adams, excellent here) is extorted by an unscrupulous and ambitious FBI agent (Bradley Cooper, turning in yet another charismatic and funny performance) into entrapping corrupt politicians, including the mayor of Camden, New Jersey (Jeremy Renner, in an underrated performance). What ensues is funny, engrossing and hugely entertaining. American Hustle is a solid comedy/drama that becomes a cut above due to the quality of its performances.

8. The Counselor (Rollie - #4, Jon - N/A)
Ridley Scott’s latest film, based on a screenplay by Cormac McCarthy, is an existential meditation on the folly of brutish masculine ambition. Mexican drug cartels provide the impetus for McCarthy’s morality play, a subject he’s approached before. Here they exist as an omniscient aura of consequence, indifferent to regret and to redemption. It is that very absolution that arouses the appetites of the power-hungry and the proud, who discover too late that this harsh world exists without apologies or lessons to be learned, but merely with death and futility. Buried within this somber, eloquent, beautiful fable is a parallel theme of men who are undone by their mistreatment or patronizing misunderstanding of women. Ambition here is neither fruitful nor noble, and McCarthy’s running parallel between ambition and self-destruction endures.

9. Gravity (Jon - #6, Rollie - #8)
Our fragility as beings in the vacuum of space and the implied value of our planet as a kind of organic spaceship are in the crosshairs of Gravity, the ultra-tense science fiction film directed by Mexican New Waver Alfonso Cuaron. Sandra Bullock may well win an Oscar for her role as medical engineer turned reluctant astronaut Ryan Stone, and it would be hard to argue against it. She extracts humanity and terrified wonder in equal measure, and for most of the film she does so with no co-stars. Cuaron expertly guides the action as director; one impressive aspect of this film is its physical accuracy, and aside from a thriller, Gravity operates as an entertaining explanation of how space works. Cuaron doesn't waver from the humans at the forefront of his tale, though, and in their plight we come to appreciate even more our odd, special place in the cosmos.

10. 12 Years a Slave (Rollie - #6, Jon - N/A)
Steve McQueen has elected to view the Antebellum South, as adapted from Solomon Northup’s autobiography of the same name, with the same sense of hyper-control and composition that he brought to his earlier feature films. The approach makes his view of the horrors of slavery stringent and unbending, the hopelessness of this institution born of the depth of its roots. This is a confrontational film, even a combative one, insisting that we observe unflinchingly the shame of our history, that we embed it in our conscience all over again. The result has been difficult for many to endure, and I can understand why. Engaging with this material is nearly impossible. Its catharsis is minuscule. And the more we allow ourselves to think in this way, the more necessary Mr. McQueen’s film becomes. 

The Rest of Our Lists

Jon
7. This is the End
8. The Conjuring
9. Pacific Rim
10. Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa

Rollie
7. Nebraska
9. To the Wonder
10. Frances Ha

Thursday, January 16, 2014

We Love To Be Lied To

American HustleDirected by David O Russell
Three Stars

By Rollan Schott

David O. Russell’s “American Hustle” is a shallow film full of beautiful surfaces, all dressed up for the disco, as it were, with nowhere to go. That may be the heart of the film’s chintzy charm. There’s something cynically gratifying about escapism of this quality, as if an efficient hoarding of accessible hedonism. This tale of con men and women and political corruption in New Jersey in the 70’s doesn't have much to say about anything – strange for as topical as so many elements of its plot are – but satisfies a nostalgic fantasy for classic Hollywood film making. The subject, really, is the lost craft of cinematic pop art.

For that reason it shouldn't be surprising that the main characters of “American Hustle” spend so much of their time putting on an act. Irving Rosenfeld (Christian Bale) and Sydney Prosser (Amy Adams) begin a romance posing as underground financial consultants who collect on service fees for loans they do not secure for their clients. Irving is overweight and greasy, with a comb-over Sydney refers to affectionately as “elaborate”, but he carries himself with a sure-handed dignity, the kind of confidence that puts him in league with women like Sydney, who is beautiful and graceful but also jaded and misplaced in most social circles, and ruthlessly self-sufficient and determined, equipping her to navigate rooms full of men who obliviously present her with opportunities to survive.

The two are busted by Richie DiMaso (Bradley Cooper), an ambitious FBI agent who offers the two a way out if they’ll help Richie and provide the necessary insight to tackle a larger fish. Irving and Sydney agree, somewhat reluctantly and without options, but Richie can’t keep a lid on his aspirations. He wants to bust another four con artists, then he wants to tackle a politician, a mayor in New Jersey subtly named Carmine Polito (Jeremy Renner), then more, and then more still. Irving and Sydney are stuck. The ball’s in Richie’s court, but the game changes sharply when Richie begins pursuing Sydney as well.

This may seem like a lot to give away, but “American Hustle” is a whirlwind of plot shifts and realignments. Not mentioned yet is Irving’s wife Rosalyn (Jennifer Lawrence), an archetypical loose cannon whose drunken imbalance threatens to crash the whole affair into chaos. The setup presents an opportunity for Mr. Russell to suspend the motives of many people in limbo, particular Sydney, who is certainly lying to somebody and Irving, at some point re-positioned to the sideline, who is either winning or losing, not that we even know what the game is.

Mr. Russell keeps his audience at a formidable distance for much of the proceedings. Whether or not you enjoy it will hinge upon whether you feel drug along and toyed with or involved in an intriguing game of cat and mouse, con-artist cliché gamesmanship. This film is drunk on style, heedlessly surface-heavy, one of those Capital-‘M’ “Movie” types. Its all-star cast is pleasantly kitsch and stagy, posing ceaselessly, gliding cool and glamorous through lavish sets awash with saturated colors and punctuated with timely music. For as well executed as it all is, there’s a kind of hedonistic indulgence to absorbing it all in a superficial stupor. This is high-dollar junk food.


Like many a great Dylan song, “American Hustle” seems to be about more than it probably is. It promises depths that are probably not there. At some point around the ninety minute mark I found the sugar rush wearing off prematurely. Mr. Russell spends a bit too much time denying us any real impetus for our embattled heroes. One grows weary of the waiting. Irving and Sydney dawn their poker faces, put on a show, and dare us to buy into it, attempting to fuel a fantasy like the romance and intrigue of the classic Hollywood adventures “American Hustle” is so much designed to resemble. I remember what James Cagney said about the art of performance: “Stand up straight, look ‘em in the eye, and tell the truth.”