Hey, folks. Capone in Chicago here, with a couple of films that are making their way into art houses around America this week or at least expanding to more theaters (maybe even taking up one whole screen at a multiplex near you. Enjoy…
COLD SOULS
In a tour de force acting performance that will likely go all but unnoticed, Paul Giamatti plays a version of himself going through a spiritual crisis involving acting, an overall heavy burden on his soul, and the Russian mafia. I think we can all identify. In writer-director Sophie Barthes' first feature COLD SOULS, Giamatti plays an actor named Paul Giamatti who is in rehearsals for a stage production of Chekhov's Uncle Vanya and no one involved is particularly pleased with his anxiety-laced performance. Feeling particularly weighed down by the state of the world and his own life, Giamatti reads an article in the New Yorker about a facility in town (run by David Strathairn) that extracts and stores your soul, resulting in a much freer and lightweight existence. Giamatti is shown a few other stored souls that are contained in small, glass vessels and often take on some pretty elaborate forms. His is the exact size and shape of a chickpea, but hey, we aren't all winners. Still, the process is successful, and he is able live a much more light-hearted life...a little too light hearted, he decides, so he returns to the facility only to find his soul has gone missing.
In a connected story running parallel to Giamatti's, a beautiful Russian woman (Dina Korzun from FORTY SHADES OF BLUE) is seen coming in and out of the States from Russia, seemingly with nothing to declare. But we find out she is illegally transporting stolen souls, a process that is actually leaving trace elements of multiple souls inside her that will soon make it impossible for her to possess a full soul for lack of room. And yes, the Russian woman has managed to get a hold of Giamatti's soul to bring it to a rising actress who just happens to be her boss's girlfriend; the actress believes she's getting Al Pacino's soul. The story goes on from there as Giamatti struggles to locate his missing soul, while renting other souls to somehow complete him enough to complete his search.
Clearly following a story premise and arc that would make Charlie Kaufman proud, Barthes has, in act, crafted a genuinely interesting film in COLD SOULS that is aided by Giamatti's ability to show subtle differences in a person's behavior and demeanor when they are under the influence of no soul, very little soul, or another soul. These aren't drastic personality changes or identity switches; it's the same guy inside Giamatti's body with the same memories. Yet, he is different people. Paul with no soul is a terrible actor but is too free a spirit to realize it. Paul with a Russian poet's soul inside is a brilliant performer. Giamatti's wife (played by Emily Watson, who is barely on screen in her thankless role) just wants her angsty husband back.
At its core, COLD SOULS is a dark, dark comedy, punctuated by some insightful thoughts on what it is that makes us human. I've often heard that the heart of any artist is suffering, but if you remove the suffering, do you remove the artist? Barthes clearly believes you do. So feel free to suspend disbelief as much as you enjoyed doing for BEING JOHN MALKOVICH, and you should have a richly satisfying experience watching Giamatti be brilliant once again in COLD SOULS.
FIFTY DEAD MEN WALKING
I've seen more films about the troubles in Ireland, the IRA, and the disdainful treatment the people of Ireland endured during British military occupation, but I can't remember a film quite like FIFTY DEAD MEN WALKING. The movie tells the true story of Martin McGartland (played deftly by Jim Sturgess of ACROSS THE UNIVERSE and 21 fame), a small-time thief who was recruited in the late 1980s by the British police (embodied here by Ben Kingsley) to infiltrate the IRA, which he did with pretty astonishing results. The experience also turned McGartland into a paranoid mess as he attempted to balance his life as a new father, faithful boyfriend to Lara (Natalie Press), rising star in the IRA and police spy.
What I admired about the film is that it takes a fairly neutral stance on whether the IRA are the heroes or the villains. It's rare in cinema to see the IRA portrayed as criminals, but in FIFTY DEAD MEN WALKING, we see some of the absolutely horrific torture methods they employed to extract information out of suspected traitors. Of course, there is also a great deal presented about the shameful tactics used by the British police and military. What's also fascinating about McGartland's story is that as the stakes got higher for him, it seems less likely that he'd ever make it out of this situation alive, a fact that could not have escaped him. Putting aside the fact that the film is inspired by a book written by McGartland (it is made clear that the film is not endorsed by McGartland nor an official adaptation of his book), which means we know he at least lived long enough to write it. The film deals with this potential suspense killer by opening with a scene in more modern-day Canada showing us McGartland getting shot six times in his car. His fate is not revealed until the end of the movie.
The film's success of failure rests squarely on the shoulders of Jim Sturgess, an actor I frankly have never really liked much prior to watching this movie. He's a good-looking enough bloke, but he always looked to me like the guy who got kicked out of the band, and I've never been convinced he was much of an actor...until now. There's no getting around the fact that FIFTY DEAD MEN WALKING gives us a version of Sturgess that we've never seen before. The material is far more challenging, and Sturgess rises to the occasion giving us not only the best performance of his career, but also work that's worthy of repeat viewing. Sturgess plays McGartland as a bundle of complexities--nervous, bold, lovable, intelligent, loyal, disloyal, terrified and so many more. And all of these are there in an exceptional performance. Watch the scenes where McGartland interacts with some of the highest-ranking members of the IRA, especially someone like the beautiful and very dangerous security officer Grace (an almost unrecognizable Rose McGowan), who puts the moves on Martin to test his loyalty to Lara, which in turn is a test of his loyalty to the cause. He's a stronger man than I would be in those situations.
Now, I'm not here to argue the historical merits and accuracy taken by Canadian writer-director Kari Skogland, who has done largely TV work up to this point. The story presented on the screen feels real and is compelling enough that I forgive it whatever facts it may be condensing or changing for dramatic effect. I was truly impressed with FIFTY DEAD MEN WALKING, both for Sturgess' performance and for finding another way to tell a story I thought I knew.
FLAME & CITRON
You may not realize it, but there are actually two most excellent World War II-era films floating around cinemas in certain areas of this fine nation. One is the slightly higher-profile, kick-ass fable INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS, and the other is the more based in reality FLAME & CITRON, which tells the story of the Nazi resistance in Denmark. This phenomenal work from director Ole Christian Madsen (maker of the stunning Dogme film KIRA'S REASON: A LOVE STORY) centers on two resistance fighters--the brains of the operations, nicknamed Flame (Thure Lindhart), and the brooding Citron (played by the greatest Danish actor in the universe, Mads Mikkelsen, the villain in CASINO ROYALE), whose piercing eyes turn an enemy's blood cold. Although they despise the occupying German forces, their missions have always been about assassinating Danish citizens who are collaborating with the Nazis. The year is 1944, and the end of the war is in sight, but some people are determined to get away with some pretty heinous shit that can be blamed on the Nazis before all is said and done.
Most of their victims make a degree of sense to Flame and Citron and the reasons they must day are clear, but one day, they receive orders to kill three unusual people, whose connections to the Nazi Party are unclear. And this fact makes the carrying out of their mission a little more difficult in their minds. The two men begin a secret investigation into exactly who these targets are, and discover that those in command of the resistance are not all looking out for the best interests of Copenhagen and its people. FLAME & CITRON is shot and paced like a great noir film, complete with a femme fatale (Stine Stengade), double-crossing countrymen, and Nazis lurking around every corner. In real life, these men were two of the great heroes of the war, and Madsen's film shows exactly why. Their missions and uncanny ability not to die earned them their reputations as unstoppable protectors of their nation, and simply watching them carry out the most dangerous mission or uncover the most shocking detail is a delight. This may not have the pure gall and shock value of Basterds, but FLAME & CITRON is still packs a wallop and exits in a very nerve-wracking place in my heart.
ART & COPY
This documentary deals with a subject I simply never contemplated before. The idea that a kind of creative revolution happened in 1960s advertising, when the those at the copy desk and art directors were put in creative meeting together for the first time in the history of the business. Director Doug Pary (SURFWISE; HYPE!) does an admirable job--with help from some of the great ad men and women the nation has ever known--at explaining just how significant a change it was to simply break down the walls between creative and standard marketing of products. Campaigns became more abstract, slogans for products became more like mottos for living (Got Milk?, Just Do It, Think Different).
The advertising firms in ART & COPY all seem to be competing to see which has the most relaxing, cooperative spirit around the office to foster the great amount of creativity, and some of the icons in advertising maybe get a bit too philosophical about their work. Still, it's fascinating to hear the ad agency that came up with the 1984 ad campaign for the Apple Macintosh launch (directed by Ridley Scott fresh off BLADE RUNNER and ALIEN) explain the radical idea of producing a multi-million dollar commercial that doesn't even show the product. Still another radical thought makes the convincing case that some of these campaigns are about putting forth a message about how to live our lives in general, and simply using the clients products to get the message out there. The "Just Do It" Nike campaign promoted living healthier, more active lives; it just happened to use shoes to get that message across.
At its core, ART & COPY is about the age-old practice of mixing art and commerce, a trend that will never go away and isn't necessarily a bad thing when done using clever means and true creative spirit. The succession of talking heads may get a bit heavy handed at times, but the information is solid and extremely interesting. Art students of the world, in particular, should take notice. This is where 90 percent of you are going to end up if you want to keep making something that resembles art.
WEATHER GIRL
This movie is a little bit depressing in between being obnoxious, poorly acted, stagnantly shot, and woefully underwritten by director Blayne Weaver. In fact, were it not for the always-entertaining presence of Jane Lynch in WEATHER GIRL, I'd say there was absolutely nothing to recommend about it. Throw on top of the fact that, for those of us lucky enough to live in Chicago, it's opening "exclusively" at the worst theater in the city limits, and you've got yourself the perfect storm of shit.
"The New Adventures of Old Christine" regular Tricia O'Kelley is certainly easy on the eyes, even if her character of Sylvia, the "sassy weather girl" for a Seattle morning news show, is abrasive and not particularly likable. She flips out on the air the day after she catches her boyfriend--the anchor on her news show, played by Mark Harmon--n bed with his female co-anchor. After quitting the show, she is forced to move in with her slacker brother Walt (Ryan Devlin), whose across-the-hall neighbor, Byron (Patrick J. Adams), spends a lot of time in their place. While Sylvia tries to see if any other broadcast outlet in Seattle will hire her, she and Byron start to develop something more than a friendship. After being rejected by all of the local TV stations, Sylvia begins looking elsewhere for a job and ends up a waitress at a nice restaurant where the overbearing Lynch is her boss (in the film's only real laugh-out-loud scenes).
If Harmon and Lynch aren't enough to satisfy your random-cameos-in-an-indie-movie fix, let me toss in Jon Cryer as Sylvia's blind date and Blair Underwood as her boss at the TV station, who reconnects with her after her on-air rant continues to get rating in reruns and he attempts to get her back on the air. And it's in the third act that WEATHER GIRL went from leaving me casually disinterested in the story to outright losing me because I simply didn't believe that human beings acted like any of the characters in this movie. It was nothing short of infuriating to watch the already thinly drawn human-like cutouts just flat out act and react like preprogrammed script-bots doing whatever the writer tells them to do whether it makes any sense or not. Other than Lynch's too-good-for-this-movie performance, no one here really stands out as someone worth checking out in this or any other film. You know what? I'm done talking about this crap. You can let WEATHER GIRL rot if it happens to make it to a theater near you.
-- Capone
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