Review: "First Reformed"

Oh, how I expected and wanted to love Paul Schrader's First Reformed.

I consider Schrader one of the finest screenwriters of the past half-century, his contributions especially to the likes of The Yakuza, Obsession, Taxi Driver and Bringing Out the Dead exemplary examples of his genius on the page. While Schrader's directorial efforts have proven decidedly more scattershot, rarely does he bore and, on occasion, he has delivered a real knockout, with Affliction perhaps being his masterpiece.

The thought of Schrader teaming with Ethan Hawke, an actor I've admired in many pictures, from Reality Bates to Richard Linklater's Before trilogy, for me set expectations rather high for their collaboration on First Reformed, a film that looked positively spine-tingling in its trailer.

Alas, I left First Reformed floored with the contributions of merely one of these two men. For while Hawke's performance as the despondent Father Toller is a truly mesmerizing portrayal, among the actor's most startling work to date, the film around him is a meandering slog that rarely suggests the brilliance of Schrader's past work. 

Hawke's Toller is the pastor of a microscopic church in upstate New York. Still beside himself over the death of his son, Toller has descended into alcoholism and chosen to ignore the illness that is undoubtedly ravaging his body. Toller is sleepwalking through life until the entrance of Mary (Amanda Seyfried). Mary is pregnant with the son of Michael (Philip Ettinger), an environmentalist who can't bear the thought of bringing a child into a world he views as doomed. 

Toller finds himself consumed with reflection on Michael's concerns and is all the more rattled by the discovery of a suicide vest in the couple's garage, shortly followed by Michael's suicide. His health gradually failing and dependency on booze increasing, Toller continues to counsel Mary while also finding himself at odds with Edward Balq (Michael Gaston), a chemical magnate concerned with Toller's newfound interest in environmental causes.

First Reformed is beautifully shot by Alexander Dynan and has that same unbearably dreary look and feel of prior, superior Schrader works. Hawke does heaps of heavy lifting but in the end, Schrader's curiously uninvolving script and the plodding pace of the proceedings left me on the verge of dozing off. The picture may be more dignified than the flamboyant likes of American Gigolo and Cat People but it isn't remotely as compelling.

Hawke's committed turn aside, First Reformed is a monotonous miss.

C+

Review: "Book Club"

God bless Candice Bergen. She may be the lone Oscar-less star of Book Club's quartet of acting queens but, with an irresistibly dry comic delivery and penchant for stealing scenes with remarkable ease, she manages to emerge something of an MVP.

That isn't to say Bergen runs away with the show - how could she, after all, with the comparably sparkling Jane Fonda, Diane Keaton and Mary Steenburgen sharing the screen? Book Club may be a glorified sitcom but it emerges a must-see for these four star turns alone. 

No doubt, you've seen the previews and know what's coming - this foursome of fabulousness reads the notorious Fifty Shades of Grey as their latest book club selection. The sordid trilogy, as expected, will have an impact on their respective lives that opens their eyes and results in loads of laughs. Indeed, there may not be many surprises on the horizon in Book Club but that isn't say the proceedings aren't, for the most part, an absolute pleasure from start to finish.

Fonda's Vivian is the most colorful and carefree of the bunch, unabashedly enjoying the company of men with no strings attached - that is, until a beau from the past (Don Johnson) comes strolling into town wanting something more meaningful than a one-night fling. Keaton's Diane (could they not change the name?) remains uneasy about getting back into the dating game, having a year back lost her husband of 40 years. The dashing pilot Mitchell (Andy Garcia, a romcom natural) enters her life and immediately begins courting her but Diane is slow to reciprocate. 

Then, there's Bergen's Sharon, a distinguished federal judge who hasn't had romance on the brain in ages and whose ex (Ed Begley, Jr.) is now shacking up with a blonde bombshell about a third his age. Sharon makes the leap into online dating, where, among her matches, is the kind accountant George (Richard Dreyfuss). Finally, Steenburgen's Carol has been antsy for months over her stale marriage to Bruce (Craig T. Nelson). Reading Fifty Shades makes her more determined than ever to spice things up.

Among this sea of subplots, Bergen has the funniest moments and Keaton and Garcia have the sweetest. Fonda's a hoot, basically doing a slight variation on her turn from Grace and Frankie, but her scenes opposite Johnson lack the tenderness of the Keaton-Garcia ones. Steenburgen, I'm afraid, draws the short straw. Her dynamic opposite Nelson is a bland imitation of Meryl Streep and Tommy Lee Jones in Hope Springs.

Writer/director Bill Holderman and co-writer Erin Simms lean heavily on their cast to do the heavy lifting - thankfully, they've been graced with an ensemble that's plenty game to lift the ordinary into the almost-extraordinary. 

Book Club is certain to satisfy film buffs (like myself) who crave at least one Nancy Meyersesque picture a year.

B+

Review: "Tully"

With their third big screen collaboration (well, fourth, if you count his producing duties on Jennifer's Body), director Jason Reitman and screenwriter Diablo Cody are more or less proving themselves the James Ivory and Ruth Prawer Jhabvala of suburban dramedies. (Which, I suppose, could make Charlize Theron their Emma Thompson).

Tully, their latest picture, is not quite on the level of their prior efforts, Juno and Young Adult. It lacks the sparkling ensemble of the former and the writing isn't quite as sharp and gut-punching here as it is in the latter. (Nor is this film in the same league as Up in the Air, Reitman's masterpiece.)

That said, this film remains wholeheartedly worth a look, if exclusively as a showcase for Theron, who once again proves herself one of the finest actresses working today. 

Theron is Marlo, a wife and mother of two, about to give birth to her third child. Already exasperated by her two kids, especially her car seat-kicking, chicken nugget-guzzling son, Marlo is approached by her brother Craig (Mark Duplass), who suggests she consider hiring a nanny for nighttime duties. Marlo resists at first - that is, until little baby Mia graces the earth and proves a suffocating bundle of joy. 

Ultimately, Marlo does give in and into her life arrives Tully (Mackenzie Davis, in a fetching, irresistible performance). Like a gift from the heavens, Tully is masterful in not only handling Mia but also providing Marlo with peace and surprising insights about motherhood and the importance of taking care of oneself. Marlo finds herself enlightened and invigorated by Tully's presence - the question is, how long can their bond last?

Tully is especially satisfying and perceptive in its first half, with Theron soaring in this expertly written role. Cody continues to compose rich, shrewd dialogue in a fashion rarely seen in today's comedies. By the hour mark, Tully becomes more haphazard and uneven, until an 11-'o-clock-hour twist instills the proceedings with much of the freshness found earlier. 

Unlike Juno and Young Adult, Tully isn't much of an ensemble showcase. Davis is a true delight, while Ron Livingston has the rather thankless duties of taking on Drew, the amiable, hardworking husband who hasn't a clue about the struggles of motherhood. Lia Frankland is sweet as their daughter Sarah but neither her role, nor anyone else's beyond Marlo and Tully, is much fleshed out.

Tully may be a second-tier effort from its director and writer but it finds Theron operating at the top of her game and sports that dazzling turn from Davis - for them alone, it's well worth watching.

B+

Review: "Chappaquiddick"

In 2016, I fell madly head over heels for Jackie, Pablo Larrain's mesmerizing, sumptuously designed picture which, serving as a career-best vehicle for star Natalie Portman, shines a spotlight on John F. Kennedy's presidency, from its glory days, when the White House was filled with grand entertainment and joy, to the horrors of that fall day in Dallas, Texas and the whirlwind of events that followed. Beyond Portman, the picture sports one hell of an ensemble, including Peter Sarsgaard, in prime form as the grieving Robert F. Kennedy.

John Curran's Chappaquiddick, focused not on John or Robert but Ted Kennedy, is decidedly not on the same sky-high level as Jackie. It is, however, still a spectacularly aggravating and entertaining film and features a gangbusters, Oscar-caliber turn from leading man Jason Clarke. It is also, I would argue, a more satisfying endeavor than say, Oliver Stone's overbaked JFK and the countless Kennedy-themed films and series that have graced the small screen.

As the film opens, it's the summer of 1969 and Kennedy (Clarke), now in his second term as U.S. Senator from Massachusetts, is vacationing on Martha's Vineyard with the likes of cousin Joe Gargan (Ed Helms) and Paul Markham (Jim Gaffigan), the U.S. Attorney for Massachusetts. Also present is Mary Jo Kopechne (Kate Mara), a former staffer on Bobby Kennedy's 1968 presidential campaign.

Amidst a boozed-soaked party, Kennedy and Kopechne go for a drive and the former, more than a tad inebriated, sends the car flying off a bridge and into a pond. Unsuccessful in rescuing Kopechne, Kennedy stumbles his way back to the party and informs Gargan and Markham, who too fail to save Kopechne upon latermentering the scene. Gargan and Markham insist Kennedy turn himself into the police but instead, he returns to his hotel room, leaving law enforcement to discover the car themselves the following morning.

At this point in the picture, the proceedings are rather lackluster, clumsily staged by Curran and not terribly convincing. What happens from here, however, once Kennedy bolts for the family compound in Hyannisport, is absorbing stuff. Clarke has powerful scenes opposite a nearly mute Bruce Dern, playing father Joe Kennedy who, at this point, was on the verge of death. With mere glances, Dern vividly conveys his disappointment in his son, whose actions in his eyes have disgraced the family.

Making for riveting cinema is the public relations nightmare that comes of the incident, as the family's legal team, truly awe-inspiring in how they don't give the slightest shit about Kopechne, vie to not only protect Kennedy but perhaps even make him out of be some kind of hero. A key part of the film is also how Gargan becomes increasingly disillusioned with the family, convinced Kennedy can only save himself by resigning from the U.S. Senate. Of course, this does not come to fruition.

As Kennedy, Clarke rings all too true, portraying the politician as a man with overwhelming daddy issues, scant interest (at this point) in the presidency and an unease over the fashion family allies heartlessly approach such a tragedy. Yet, Kennedy is also plenty self-absorbed and unwilling to allow Kopechne's death to drive a fatal stake through his political career. The supporting players are also formidable, though Mara's turn as Kopechne proves a mostly thankless one - we barely learn a thing about her. 

Chappaquiddick will hardly be setting this year's awards season on fire but, for Clarke's compelling turn alone, it's well worth a look.

B+

Review: "A Quiet Place"

Thanks, John Krasinski. Now, I'm going to have incessant nightmares about drowning in grain silos.

Krasinski, the affable star of The Office, it turns out, has quite an eye for horror, not that his directorial effort A Quiet Place is ever truly terrifying (while, besides that silo scene). It is, however, immensely entertaining and exciting and exceedingly well-acted by all involved.

The picture opens on the Abbott family who, not far off in the future, appear to be among the few remaining survivors in a world on lockdown. You see, the planet as we know it has been invaded by blind extraterrestrial monsters that, more or less, resemble grasshopper-spiders on steroids and are supremely sensitive to even the slightest of sounds. Should anyone or anything make a peep, they're sure to draw the ire of these vicious visitors.

The Abbotts, led by dad Lee (Krasinski) and mom Evelyn (Emily Blunt), are master survivalists but one tragic hiccup results in their youngest child falling victim to the creatures, an event that draws unwanted attention to the surviving family - Lee, Evelyn, daughter Regan (Millicent Simmonds) and son Marcus (Noah Jupe). The relationship between Lee and Regan is especially affecting and absorbing - she blames herself for her brother's death and cannot recognize the love her father so clearly still feels for her.

As you can imagine, events transpire that draw the beasts closer to the family, resulting in one riveting set piece after another. Krasinski particularly gives Blunt and Simmonds (who was so wonderful in Wonderstruck last year) prime material to chew on, characters and situations far more compelling than what's seen in today's average horror flick. The humans, I must say, are leaps and bounds more interesting than the monsters, which aren't the least bit scary and are probably seen a tad too often.

A Quiet Place ends on a note that some may deem anti-climatic but I happen to think it's quite badass. The proceedings have a look and feel similar to last year's stirring It Comes at Night, though this picture is more fun and agreeable and, for better or worse, a whole lot less paralyzing. 

Kudos to Krasinski for a jolly spring chiller.

A-