It begins at sea with sopranos la-laing into the sky. Two adult brothers and a boy on a boat, fishing -- really, they're word-tussling more than fishing, but it sets the scene. Next, Manchester by the Sea, a pretty danged realistic film, shows one of those men at work.
Lee Chandler, played stoically by Casey Affleck, is a janitor and handyman for four apartment buildings in Boston. He is sullen and sour, trying to deal with the derelict buildings and the demanding dwellers. He gets a telephone call announcing the death of his brother, the other man on the boat. Lee rushes home -- where all the secrets are. His brother had a few, including carefully outlined plans for Lee to assume the guardianship of his nephew, plans he had not shared with his brother. Home is also where Lee's ex-wife lives, pregnant, with her second husband. Home is where Lee's memories are, where his old buddies are, where the remnants of his life are.
Kenneth Lonergan wrote the story, revealing the secrets slowly. Lonergan, who also wrote You Can Count on Me, fills Manchester with the complexity of families but refuses to add unrealistic touches. Affleck embodies Lee's sadness, weighted by guilt and grief. Michelle Williams plays the small and complicated role of Lee's ex. Kyle Chandler handles the ghostly appearances of brother Joe. Lucas Hedges shines as the nephew with street smarts. Also in the rich cast are Gretchen Mol, Matthew Broderick, Stephen McKinley Henderson, and Tate Donovan.
Lonergan directed the film with long silences, befitting men who don't talk, and exploited the tension of the past. Lesley Barber's music contrasts those sopranos and classical music, hardly appropriate, with bar tunes sloshed in beer. Manchester by the Sea, while not a great film, is an honest lesson in grief.
Celebrating its one-hundred-year anniversary in a restored version, The Dumb Girl of Portici is silent filmmaking at its most impressive. Directors Lois Weber and her husband Phillips Smalley turn a story of doomed love into a thrilling, energetic production, thanks primarily to the famous Russian ballerina Anna Pavlova as title character Fenella who falls in love with the Duke d'Arcos.
Since Fenella is a humble, mute girl from a fishing village, the Duke's status dictates against him following his heart, pushing him to marry within his class in 17th century Naples. But after the Duke's seduction of Fenella, her furious brother Masaniello leads a brutal rebellion against the self-indulgent aristocracy levying unjust taxes to support their lavish lifestyle.
Stranded in New York because of WWI, Pavlova committed to the film, presenting an eloquent portrayal of Fenella. From the opening shots to the closing moments, Pavlova moves and dances exquisitely, both frolicking solo and within massive crowd scenes. Weber stages those celebrations of throngs of people and the revolt of the downtrodden with a visual flair with hundreds choreographed to move within as well as in and out of the set space. Though 1916 doesn't yet incorporate today's editing style, Weber does cut to medium shots and medium close-ups for emotional punctuation.
She knew the film business inside out, from at first acting, then writing, directing, and editing silent films. An extraordinary talent credited with technical innovations, Weber designed the lighting, cast the actors, then shot, developed and tinted the film. This restoration includes stunning, original tinting with especially striking red and blue tinted scenes. The new score by silent film composer John Sweeney reinforces and adds urgency to the action, all staged on extravagant sets. Details such as sculptures and jewelry comment implicitly on this world as much as the severed heads impaled on poles after the revolt in this masterfully executed, landmark epic.
The Midwest premiere of The Dumb Girl of Portici is at Webster University's Winifred Moore auditorium one night only, Sunday, December 4 at 7:30 p.m.
Just ask Jeff Nichols how to make a movie based on the lives of two quiet people. How do you build a script around the voices of people who barely spoke? How does one direct a movie about a Supreme Court ruling when the contestants never appeared in court?
Nichols, who also wrote and directed the exquisite film Mud, just made this film with what he had and let it tell the story of the black and white couple who thought it unfair that they could not marry in Virginia. Nichols does not go so far back as courtship nor to adolescence with these two young lovers, one black, one white. He begins the film with Mildred's simple announcement that she is pregnant. Her head is wreathed in yellow from the porch light. Richard mulls that news over and then says, "Good." He is smiling very loudly.
The two young people drove to Washington, D.C., with her father and were married. Then they drove home to Virginia, where Richard is a mason, a construction worker. And, there, they were drug out of bed and jailed because in Virginia in the late Fifties, the law against miscegenation was still on the books.
Nichols spends the rest of the film showing how the Lovings lived their lives, quietly and a bit desperately. They had three children, who had to play in the D.C. streets. When one is run over and bruised, Mildred wraps them up to return to the countryside where she and Richard face the discordant music.
Ruth Negga, born in Ethiopia, plays Mildred with grace and firmness; Joel Edgerton, born in Australia, plays Richard with stoic simplicity. They are stunning as their eyes do the talking. Their supporting cast is strong -- no weak links. The only really recognizable faces -- Nick Kroll and Michael Shannon -- do not steal the spotlight.
Loving carries a quiet energy of righteousness.
Newt Scamander is a shy, young writer. He looks out from under his thatch of hair as Diana, Princess of Wales, once shyly peered out. Scamander has been traveling to record stories of fantastic beasts, and he steps on to the dock of New York City, his suitcase full of trouble.
He finds a city in turmoil, a dark, moiling consternation of witches and wizards, city officials and power-mongers. He finds division and crises with no clear sense of who's good and who's evil. The year is 1926 -- 70 years before a young wizard named Harry Potter will read his report. This New York presents as grey and noisy and duplicitous, a city of car horns and cloche hats.
Into this scene arrives Jacob, who works in a cannery. He would be called a Muggle in England, but in America, Jacob is a No-Maj, one without magical properties or skills. Dan Fogler handles the part like yeasty dough. Yet, there's something about Jacob's ambition -- he wants to open his own bakery -- and his innocence. At one point, amidst flashes and crashes, he says, "I ain't got the brains to make this up."
But J.K. Rowling does. She wrote the script for this movie just as she wrote the Harry Potter series, from which Fantastic Beasts shoots off. David Yates, who directed four Harry Potter films, directs Beasts with a good sense of balance between plot and special effects. Beasts refers tangentially to the novels, not so much as to confuse newly viewers. Beasts sinks along the way, just as the Potter films did, but its plot follows a more direct path and its effects and production and costumes are noteworthy and fun.
Eddie Redmayne acquits himself well and earnestly as Scamander, supported by Samantha Morton, Colin Farrell, Jon Voight, and Katherine Waterston. And, yes, that is Johnny Depp in a cameo.
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them is just fabulously fantastic.
South Korean director Chan-wook Park is known for unconventional, bold films, including Old Boy and Lady Vengeance. His latest, The Handmaiden qualifies in a distinctly different way. In the tradition of Marquis de Sade, with co-writer Seo-Kyung Chung, Park explores lust and desire from female and male perspectives, meaning in The Handmaiden the sexual politics of power dictates behavior.
In 1930s Korea under Japanese occupation, a Japanese man posing as Count Fujiwara selects Korean servant Sook-Hee to travel with him to a lavish estate. There she will become the title Handmaiden to a very wealthy Lady Hideko held in isolated captivity by her Uncle Kouzuki. Sook-Hee will encourage her Lady to fall in love with and marry Fujiwara who will, in short order, confine her to a sanitarium and abscond with her money and valuable jewelry.
Adapting British writer Sarah Waters' 2005 Victorian story "Fingersmith," Park posits a divided state of affairs in terms of both gender, language and nationality. He also divides the film into two main sections, the first part told from a limited point of view and the second from an omniscient one. Elaborating on each, Park takes his time with both perspectives. There's no rushing in this languorous, two hour 24-minute film. Throughout it, the camera caresses and lingers on gorgeous fabrics as well as the women's faces and bodies. In addition, close-ups and characters' comments emphasize appeals to taste and touch. Park invites us to embrace sensual pleasure, even though human duplicity will intrude into that self-indulgent world through jarring developments.
The stylized acting requires Min-hee Kim as Lady Hideko, Kim Tae-ri as Sook-Hee and Jung-woong Jo as Fujiwara to convey volumes with silence, glances, and gestures, and they succeed admirably. The music and sound intensify the mood of dreamy surrender, though, in stark contrast, Park's signature violence makes an appearance near the end in a horrific scene. With sexual content throughout, The Handmaiden is for mature audiences only. No one under 18 will be admitted. With Japanese dialogue in yellow English subtitles and Korean in white English subtitles. Exclusively at Landmark's Tivoli Theatre.