Movie review: 42

In getting back to blogging here, I wanted to write some movie reviews again.

The good news is that I wrote one. The bad news (well, not really) is that my review for the new Jackie Robinson movie, 42, is at my new baseball writing home, The Outside Corner. 

We do get an idea of what made Robinson special, how he was able to keep a stiff upper lip and reign in his emotions in the face of horrifying racial prejudice and hatred. The movie would be an utter failure otherwise. (Just in case you don't comprehend when Robinson might be viewed as heroic, the camera tilted upward at him and the swelling strings of the musical score lets you know.)  

Much of the credit for that should go to Chadwick Boseman, who portrays Robinson. I had never seen him in anything else before, but after this performance, we'll surely be seeing more of him on the big and small screens. Boseman's Robinson comes across as defiant, stoic, quietly angry and, perhaps most importantly, charismatic. 

I love when two things I love collide, so it was fun to write about a baseball movie at my new gig. Otherwise, I probably would've written a review here, but it was nice to go to a movie "for work" last night. 

Overall, I wouldn't call 42 a great movie, but it's a good one. I'll always wonder what Spike Lee's Robinson biopic (starring Denzel Washington) would've been like. However, I'm glad to see Robinson's story portrayed on screen, even if it left me wanting more. 

Movie review: The Grey

If I was a filmmaker, I imagine it would drive me crazy if the marketing for one of my movies misled audiences, with trailers and TV ads giving people the impression they might be seeing something different from what was actually made.

So when The Grey was being sold as a man vs. animal, man vs. nature drama, I wonder if Joe Carnahan was grinding his teeth a bit. Maybe not, because this movie is indeed about those conflicts. (Plus, it finished No. 1 at the box office last weekend, so he's probably cool with it all.) The characters battle sub-zero temperatures, roaring winds and thigh-high snow. And then, there are those big, bad wolves, ready to tear up some people for meal and sport.

But maybe you've also been reading that The Grey goes a bit deeper than that. This gets downright existential.

Working on an oil pipeline in remote Alaska, marooned from family and friends, with getting drunk at the on-site bar the only means of recreation, would probably push anyone to the brink of insanity. But Liam Neeson's character, Ottway, is on the brink of something else when we first see him. He's deeply unhappy, presumably over missing his wife.

We don't know why the two are apart. Did she not like him leaving for Alaska and being gone for who knows how long? Did he go to Alaska because his life had fallen apart back home? Is he the detached, aloof sort of personality that's better suited to solitude? Just a man and his rifle, off in the distance, deriving some sense of purpose out of picking off the wolves that might attack the pipeline workers?

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Ottway seems to find another purpose after the plane carrying him and his colleagues crashes onto an isolated arctic tundra with nothing around but snow, more snow and at least half a dozen hungry wolves. He wants to survive, and help as many fellow castaways as he can.

That help doesn't always exclusively apply to survival, either. In one of the film's more memorable scenes, Ottway helps comfort someone who is near death, making sure he's not alone and thinks about what's meaningful to him in his final moments.

But what makes The Grey truly compelling is that it questions the very nature of survival.

What is it about your life that makes it worth living? Is it the people you love? Is it the sense that you haven't accomplished everything you've wanted to? Is it the fear of death? Is it simply ego? And just how hard are you willing to fight for those things when circumstances push you to your absolute limit? Faced with an uncertain outcome and seemingly insurmountable adversity, would you just give up? Or would you take the struggle head-on, even to the very end?

Even more intriguing to me was that the movie is willing to challenge the concept of faith. As one of the character says, why would God — if there is one — allow these people to survive the plane crash, only to then let them die in the wilderness? How important is faith? And does it have to be earned, rather than just accepted? 

Of course, you can't really sell any of that in a trailer or commercial. Action and suspense is what's going to bring the people to the theater. But The Grey provides plenty of those things, too. It's not entirely ponderous and philosophical.The characters don't sit around and talk about this stuff through the whole movie. It's actually more up to the viewer to ponder these questions as they're watching, leaving the theater, or writing blog posts.)

It's just gratifying to have those sorts of themes weaved in with the main narrative. And as strange as this might sound, I was happy for Carnahan for getting to make a movie like this. In someone else's hands, this might have been all about man vs. wolf or some kind of survivalist porn, especially as Neeson has developed into an unlikely action hero late in his career.

Carnahan looked like a very promising director after Narc, but maybe the system beat him down a bit as he tried to get movies like White Jazz and Killing Pablo made. Instead, he had to make overly stylish crime movies like Smokin' Aces or messy attempts at blockbusters like The A-Team just to stay afloat. 

Of course, it's entirely possible that those projects scratched a creative itch and made him a better director. Perhaps The Grey is the result of that. I hope so, because I'm eager to see what he does next. (Reports have him doing a remake of Death Wish.) Maybe he'll have to alternate films he wants to do with films he has to do. But it's becoming increasingly clear which of those movies are better.  

Movie review: The Artist

I doubt I'm going to see all nine Best Picture nominees before the Oscars broadcast on Feb. 26. But of the six I hadn't seen previously, The Artist was the one I wanted to see the most. 

Maybe it's buying into the hype, but there's been so much talk about this movie from film festivals (including Asheville's) and year-end best-of lists that I figured I'd see it at some point. Of course, the idea of a modern black-and-white silent film getting so much acclaim was also intriguing. But was this a gimmick meant to stoke feelings of nostalgia among moviemakers? Or is The Artist actually a really good film?

At the risk of a cop-out answer, I think it's both. 

It's impossible not to be charmed by this movie. Everyone on screen seems to be having a great time. No one more than John Goodman, who really seems to relish overacting with his facial expressions and pantomimes. You don't even need the title card to know what he's saying.

Jean Dujardin captures the smiling, preening, swashbuckling, high-wattage style of the old-style movie actors. It's not at all hard to buy that his George Valentin is the kind of matinee idol that women want to be with and men want to be. With a thin mustache and hair slicked back by pomade, he's dashing in romances and rugged in adventures. 

Berenice Bejo plays exactly the sort of spunky gal that typified stars of the era, beautiful enough to make anyone turn and look at her, but ready to shake off that coat so she can dance. She's no China doll, Mister! Even her name, Peppy Miller, has moxie. ("The name's Miller! Peppy Miller!") 

And then there's the dog, Uggie. You will love that dog. 

Perhaps you could say the movie is about the constantly changing nature of art. What was popular and successful in one era becomes obsolete as technology and cultural tastes move on. Adapt or die. I think The Artist wants to believe this is what it's really about. 

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Dujardin is a star in silent movies, but with the advent of sound, "talkies" are the new rage and he's quickly seen as a dinosaur. Yet he still has major film ambitions — Get it? He's an artist! — and funds a tragic war epic with his own money. There's really no reason why he couldn't still be a star in movies with sound, though perhaps we learn why eventually. 

What he seemingly needs to do, above all else, is get over himself and realize that the movie industry is bigger than him, that the newest star is a flashy audition and discovery away from taking over the marquee. Or maybe he just needs the nurturing love of a good woman.

By the time the credits roll, you just feel good having watched The Artist. And I think that's what people are responding to, more than anything else. Do you have the feeling that you saw something "great"? No, but you have a smile on your face and maybe you want to do a tap dance in the lobby afterwards. That's what the movies used to make us feel before they got so damn serious. Or stupid. 

The AV Club's Nathan Rabin also astutely points out that The Artist doesn't have anything that would automatically raise a red flag as to why it would never win Best Picture. There's no unlikable lead character. It doesn't play loose with the facts. Nor is it a genre film. There's nothing at all challenging about this movie. So that's probably exactly why it will win the big prize. 

And in a way, that will probably be unfair. The Artist is the kind of movie that will probably win Best Picture, yet we'll look back in five to 10 years and wonder why the more "important" film didn't win. The Oscars do this all the time.

Yet I don't think the filmmakers ever had Oscar ambitions with this. (That could be incredibly naive of me, given Harvey Weinstein's involvement.) It's not Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close or War Horse. It's just a film that was fun and utterly charming — while harkening back to a simpler, more innocent era — at the right time. 

In my opinion, The Descendants is a better movie and should win the Best Picture Oscar. But I wouldn't have a big problem with The Artist winning, either. There's nothing not to like about it. 

Late review: Moneyball

I'm still trying to investigate the circumstances that brought this about, but for some reason, I did not see Moneyball when it was released in theaters last September.

For one thing, blogging about the Detroit Tigers' playoff run and baseball pennant chases, along with following Michigan football, soaked up a lot of time. And I was usually too wiped out, even to go to the movies, when I did have some free time. 

But by the time the movie actually came out, I think I was also suffering from Moneyball fatigue.

I love baseball. I love movies. A lot of my online time is spent reading blogs, reviews and features on both subjects. Moneyball crossed between both worlds, so there wasn't really an escape. The movie bloggers and film critics I enjoy wrote about it. All of the baseball scribes and sportswriters I follow chimed in with their recollections of actual events and reviews of the film. 

So as much as I wanted to see the movie (and sort of felt I had to, as a baseball blogger), and as much as I wanted to be part of the discussion at the time, I also wanted some distance from it. Maybe I'd go to the theater after the hype had died down a bit. 

Unfortunately, I waited too long. But thanks to a second-run theater in Asheville, I was able to see Moneyball just after Christmas. To me, the timing on this felt perfect. Baseball season had been done for two months, so the appetite was there. Seeing it in September might not have made a difference, but it was nice to have a baseball movie when the real thing was in hibernation. 

The question with Moneyball was how a book largely about exploiting market inefficiencies to compete with big-revenue baseball teams could be adapted into a cinematic story. But Michael Lewis' book centered on Oakland Athletics general manager Billy Beane to put a face on the story. Bennett Miller's movie (and the script by Steven Zallian and Aaron Sorkin) take that even further, making this Beane's story almost entirely, following a man fighting the establishment and an industry that's been calcified in conventional thought. 

Brad Pitt is well cast as Beane, someone who can make things happen with his charisma and the force of his personality. Yet he also has an edge to him that suggests he's not truly happy with how his job is going and yearns for a breakthrough that will help him gain a foothold in baseball.

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He finds that breakthrough in Peter Brand, who opens Beane's eyes to the deeper statistical side of baseball and is thrilled to have someone believe in him enough to put his theories into practice. Jonah Hill does a great job of portraying kind of a shy genius who gains confidence in himself as the story progresses. But what makes his story especially compelling is that Beane shows him that dealing with people is an important side of running a baseball team, as well. 

One of the frequent failures of sports movies is that they fail the eye test. Fans who watch the games can tell when an actor's swing looks slow and isn't smooth. When a throw from a quarterback to a receiver doesn't look authentic (and is obviously aided by cuts and camera tricks), it's hard to get past that. Well, at least for me.

Moneyball doesn't have that problem because most of the action (so to speak) takes place off the field. The story follows how Beane and Brand seek out undervalued players based on how much they get on base, how the two build their baseball team out of so-called scrap parts, and how they stick to their convictions in the face of everyone telling you them wrong because they're not doing it the way it's always been done. 

When on-field action comes into play, Miller uses actual game footage for most of the play, rather than have his actors try to simulate what actually happened. Which is a smart move. But when the drama needs to be amped up, he closes in on his actors, particularly Chris Pratt, who plays Scott Hatteberg, kind of the embodiment of the Beane-Brand philosophy.

Hatteberg was a washed-up catcher who appeared to be on his way out of baseball. But he could get on base. Signing him to play first base was a whole lot cheaper for a team like Oakland.

No, Hatteberg didn't have the power and flashy numbers that the departed Jason Giambi took with him to the New York Yankees. But with his talent for taking lots of pitches until he got the one he could hit hard, he could help replace that missing production — and at a far greater value. 

Much like Brand as portrayed by Hill, Pratt shows us someone on the player side who worries that he's being asked to do something that he might not be capable of, but finds his footing as the team shows confidence in him. Eventually, it all comes together and the affirmation that comes with that is sweet.

Some have criticized Moneyball for fudging and glossing over some details. For instance, "Peter Brand" is a fictionalized version of Paul DePodesta, who disagreed with his portrayal in the script. (And though he says otherwise, maybe he wasn't too thrilled about a pre-svelte Jonah Hill playing him.)

Additionally, the 2002 A's weren't entirely a rag-tag collection of cast-offs. They had a formidable pitching staff that included Barry Zito, who won 23 games and the American League Cy Young Award. Shortstop Miguel Tejada won the AL Most Valuable Player award after hitting 34 home runs and driving in 131 runs. Other players who made major contributions — such as Eric Chavez, Tim Hudson and Mark Mulder — are barely mentioned.

Young first baseman Carlos Pena wasn't traded to the Tigers as easily and for as little as is portrayed in the film. (My moviegoing companion demonstrated great patience in trying to watch the film while I often leaned over and whispered, "It didn't really happen that way.")

Yet the film sells it. The trade looks convincing, mostly because it's the culmination of the conflict between Beane and field manager Art Howe, who steadfastly refuses to indulge an experiment that will presumably cost the team wins and reflect poorly on him. 

The same goes for the overall movie. The small details may not be quite correct, but those have little to do with telling this story. And it's a story of affirmation and redemption that anyone — baseball fan or otherwise — will likely find compelling. 

One last thing: Moneyball had its own behind-the-scenes drama as Steven Soderbergh was originally set to shoot this movie, only to have Sony shut down production once they discovered that Soderbergh had made changes to the script and intended to make more of a documentary-style film with the real figures portraying themselves.. As a huge Soderbergh fan, part of me will always want to see that movie. Including the footage he shot on the Blu-Ray would've been one hell of a special feature.

I was ready to dislike this movie because the decision was made to go in a more conventional direction (canning one of my favorite directors in the process). But in the end, maybe the right decision was made. And maybe Miller ended up making a better movie, regardless of how closely it stuck to actual events.

Movie review: The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

My friend A. has been on me for years to read The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, along with the other two books in Stieg Larsson's "Millennium" trilogy. But in typical fashion for me, I never got around to them, despite owning the first two books. (This should be a entire blog entry on its own, but I've had trouble reading fiction over the last five years or so. It's a problem I'm working on.)

I've also never watched the Swedish film adaptations of the "Dragon Tattoo" books. Although I'm familiar enough with Noomi Rapace's portrayal of the title character to know why she's suddenly appearing in blockbuster American films. And I recognized the actor who played Mikael Blomkvist, the story's other protagonist, in the new "Mission: Impossible" movie. 

At various points throughout this year, I intended to read the books and/or watch the Swedish films before seeing David Fincher's American version. Adaptations are kind of a pet fascination of mine, and I'm very curious how the material is approached differently. But I continued to procrastinate (i.e., goof around online, watch TV and read other — nonfiction — books), leaving myself little time to check out the source material. 

All of this is a long way of telling you that I went into this movie fresh, as Frank Costanza would say. I had no idea if Fincher (and screenwriter Steve Zallian) were faithful to the book. I had no opinion on whether or not the Swedish movies were better. I couldn't tell you if Rapace is a better Lisbeth Salander than Rooney Mara. Is the tendency by Daniel Craig's Blomkvist to hang his glasses off his ear and dangle them below his jaw something from the book or a quirk Craig came up with himself? Dunno.

What I do know is that I love Fincher's movies. (Well, not all of them. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button was a snoozer.) And this is such a great match of filmmaker and material that it's almost like it was meant to happen.

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The story and characters are very dark, and so is this movie with its sharp blue and slight greenish tones and inky black primary colors. (And nothing is more "inky black" than the rocking title sequence. I've read several people say it could be the opening to a Bond film. I just thought it was the best music video — for Trent Reznor and Karen O's cover of "Immigrant Song" — I'd seen in a long time.) Every frame of this thing might as well have a "FINCHER" watermark on it. 

I've heard the criticism that Fincher is almost cycling through his greatest hits here, and maybe there's something to that. Obviously, you have the serial killer storyline, which echoes Seven and Zodiac. And I got a distinct Seven vibe from the guest house Blomkvist stays in, along with the library where Salander does some research. But I think that's largely a coincidence. This stands on its own among Fincher's other films.

The story takes a while to get going, and though it's nice to see the characters and their arcs get established, I felt like Blomkvist and Salander needed to team up sooner. That might be a product of the source material.

Once the two get together, the action probably does throttle down a bit as we mostly watch research through documents and photos on computer screens. But Fincher doesn't let it drag out like he did with Zodiac and "Benjamin Button." The mystery picks up momentum as they get closer to finding the killer they've been hired to discover, so it doesn't feel boring at all. 

However, the pace feels a bit off, especially because the movie keeps going after the primary plot is resolved. When it seems like the credits should roll, the story continues to resolve a subplot involving Blomkvist and his fall from journalistic grace.

I assume this is meant to establish a bridge to the subsequent stories in the trilogy. Those seem much more fun in superhero movies when Batman is handed a Joker card or Samuel L. Jackson shows up at Robert Downey Jr's house to talk about "the Avengers initiative." 

I do have one big pet peeve with the film's casting, however. Not with anyone chosen to play a particular part. All the actors are cast wonderfully. But when one relatively well-known actor stands out among lesser known castmates in a collection of suspects, it's a safe guess that the more famous guy will turn out to be more important.

As Roger Ebert once wrote, casting is never accidental. Unfortunately, it tips off the mystery quite a bit, in this case. 

But the most important casting is Mara as Salander. Again, I have no point of comparison, but I thought she did an outstanding job. Salander is all hard edges with little social tact when we first meet her. It's her armor against a world and life that's treated her poorly. (She wears a hilarious t-shirt when first meeting Blomkvist that sums up her worldview nicely.) That's forged a capacity for fierce vengeance, but also a strong sense of right and wrong I can see why she's such a popular character.

As the story progresses, and Salander takes a liking to Blomkvist — perhaps realizing that people aren't so bad or that some have been shit on too — she softens. Not a lot, but enough to notice. And you see that subtle transition in Mara's face. 

I actually wanted more of Salander in the movie. It's far more interesting when she's on screen. And I look forward to seeing her in future sequels (though I've been told that she spends a lot of time in a hospital bed later on, which sounds like a major buzzkill). 

I just hope Fincher stays along for the ride. I can't imagine these movies would be as compelling without him. 

Late review: Rise of the Planet of the Apes

I didn't take the time to review Rise of the Planet of the Apes when it came out in theaters, so with its DVD release on Tuesday, I didn't want to miss a second chance. 

First and foremost, this movie is worth your time. If you saw the trailers or heard about a new "Planet of the Apes" flick and thought, "Why are they bothering?" I was right there with you. If it was going to be another disappointing turd like the Tim Burton-Mark Wahlberg version was (although I think the make-up and effort to make more animalistic apes were spectacular), what was the point? 

But this Rupert Wyatt-James Franco version isn't a retelling of the 1970s films. (Though there are a couple of tributes shoehorned in.) Like all the good recent prequels (Batman Begins, Casino Royale, Star Trek, X-Men: First Class), this is telling a story which hasn't been told. Yes, we know the apes took over the earth at some point. But how did that happen? Most importantly, how did those apes become intelligent?

What sets this new version further apart is that the apes are no longer actors in masks and make-up. As impressive as the apes were in Burton's movie, especially in their variety, there's only so much expression possible from underneath latex and fur. But these new apes are CGI creations, allowing the full range of emotions to be portrayed. 

Completely CGI apes may raise an eyebrow. It did for me. Just because CGI characters can create fully articulated faces and depict complex emotions doesn't mean they can do it well. (For instance, the completely plastic-looking younger Jeff Bridges in Tron: Legacy.) But the people at Weta Digital clearly know what they're doing.

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It sounds like a cliché to say that a movie's special effects were so good that you thought they were real. But the effects used to create the story's main character, Caesar, were so good that they'll make you care about a completely computer-generated chimpanzee. As I watched the movie, I was continually surprised by how affected I was by this ape that didn't really exist. Was this thing really moving me? Yes, it was. 

A great deal of that has to do with the motion-capture performance of actor Andy Serkis, who practically owns this type of work (and has some people saying he should get Oscar consideration). It's not just the facial expressions, either. You see what Caesar is feeling and thinking through Serkis' body language too.

He slumps when he realizes he'll never be considered one with the humans, no matter how well Franco's character and his father raise him. He coils with anger when he thinks he's been abandoned. He stands up tall when finding his sense of purpose as a reluctant revolutionary. 

CGI also helps Wyatt move his camera to places that would surely be physically impossible. This is especially evident during the climax at the Golden Gate Bridge. The camera moves over, under and along the bridge, following the action. Looking over the edge of the bridge is harrowing, as well, though I don't know how that will come across watching on TV instead of a theater's big screen. 

Is it a little hard to believe that Franco is this brilliant scientist who's created a drug that restores brain tissue and may cure Alzheimer's Disease? Yes, probably. I mean, he's got all those MFA degrees to finish! But Franco actually plays driven characters pretty well, as shown in 127 Hours. So the premise that this scientist is pushing to develop this drug in time to cure his rapidly deteriorating father (John Lithgow) is rather compelling. 

But most of the human characters are set dressing or plot devices. Franco's nosy, ill-tempered neighbor may as well be wearing a sign that says "Eventual ape attack victim" around his neck. Same goes for the bully who works at the animal shelter where Caesar is eventually taken. His sign should read "The apes are gonna fuck me up bad." (Spoiler alert? If so, my apologies.)

Ultimately, this is Caesar's story. From abandoned baby chimp to science experiment to animal brain whiz to abandoned adult chimp to leader of the primate uprising. No wonder the decision was made to make Caesar a CGI/motion-capture creation. An actor in a suit, underneath a mask couldn't have carried the story and majority of screen time. 

And like all good prequels, Rise of the Planet of the Apes sets up the mythology many of us know and love. (It's too bad the studio decided to go with that clunky title, though. "Caesar" or "Rise of the Apes" would've been fine. Maybe that first one would've been too vague. But the brand must be protected.) It's easy to envision a sequel developing from this. And best of all, the filmmakers didn't wedge in a bunch of vague clues or references toward what was to come. (Iron Man 2, anyone?)

Well, maybe that's not entirely true. Make sure you watch through the credits. One last scene explains how the "planet" part of the whole mythology occurs. 

Movie review: Martha Marcy May Marlene

I didn't know anything about Martha Marcy May Marlene when I began seeing banner and sidebar ads for it on the movie blogs I read. 

The title sounds like a romantic comedy, probably a French one (or a Woody Allen joint), centered around a woman that has a bunch of men chasing after her. Maybe she gives each of them a different name, hence the title. 

But the ads, with a woman staring intensely at the viewer, make it pretty clear that it's not that kind of movie. It couldn't be further from that kind of movie.

This is about a young woman who joins up with a cult, but eventually gets the feeling that it might not be for her. At the beginning of the film, we see Martha (who we discover was renamed "Marcy May" by the cult leader) fleeing the farmhouse and running into the woods.

We don't know why, but obviously something prompted her to take action. Soon, it becomes apparent that Martha won't truly escape unless she gets far away. Thus, she contacts her estranged older sister, the only family she has. 

Basing the story around Martha's relationship with the cult makes for an intriguing premise. It's obviously something that fascinates the movie's directior, Sean Durkin, who also made a short film titled Mary Last Seen about a woman and a cult. However, that story dealt with the main character joining a cult, rather than attempting to escape. 

So what made Martha join this cult? What did she find so compelling about the group's leader, Patrick (played by a notably thin John Hawkes)? We see that he builds up her sense of self-worth, though also rules through intimidation. 

Is it that she feels she fits in better in this tight, bizarre community? There's a not-so-subtle misogyny, with the women of the cult being nudged into cleaning, cooking, and gardening roles. But they're roles nonetheless, and maybe that gives Martha a sense of purpose without the social pressures of finding a career or raising a family. 

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What becomes clear above all is that Martha is searching for an identity. She doesn't know where or how she fits in. But she knows for certain that she doesn't want to follow the traditional career, marriage, family track that her sister is on. And she resents being pulled toward that path. Her lack of social grace and basic understanding of boundaries keeps her off that path, anyway. As does her apparent paranoid schizophrenia. 

Elizabeth Olsen, who plays Martha, draws you in. You empathize with her yet also want to smack her in the head for being so self-involved. Of course, she's extremely easy on the eyes, which doesn't hurt. No wonder she's the critics' darling this fall. Bigger things are coming for her. Hopefully, she gets better material than being a superhero's love interest in a summer blockbuster.

As the story progresses, Martha begins to fear that Patrick is coming to bring her back. He certainly seems capable of doing so. Maybe she secretly wants him to, since the outside world isn't making a lot of sense to her.

But Martha also has such difficulty distinguishing the past from the present (which the movie tries to convey by subtly toggling between frequent flashbacks and the current day) that her sense of reality is clearly warped.

But other than finding out why Martha wants to flee the cult (which largely has to do with how it sustains itself), the story doesn't provide many answers. Durkin leaves plenty of open space in the film for us to fill with our own theories and assumptions. Usually, I like that as a viewer. But this time, I felt like the movie didn't give me enough.

That especially applies to the movie's ending. Typically, I love open endings. I don't have to be told exactly what's happening. I can figure it out or can draw my own conclusions. It's even better when you can share your thoughts with a friend and find out what he/she thought, as well. But this ending leaves so much open to interpretation, with several different possible narratives to choose from, that it feels unsatisfying. 

Ultimately, the movie leaves you kind of cold. Maybe that's the intention of Durkin's subtle approach. But I wanted to like this film much more than I actually did, despite being intrigued by the character study and subject matter.

Movie review: Warrior

Is there any better kind of sports movie than a boxing movie?

You don't have to be a fan of the sport to understand two guys trying to beat the crap out of each other. Fighting back, standing your ground, willing yourself to win, trying to be the best; everyone can relate to these scenarios on some level. 

Warrior isn't a boxing movie, per se, taking place in the world of mixed martial arts (MMA). All I knew about MMA going in is the wannabes it spawned at the gym I used to go to, wearing their "Tapout" t-shirts and constantly pulling up their shirts in front of the mirror to see how their abs looked.

But the same tropes apply to this story. The protagonist (or in this case, protagonists) are down and out, close to rock bottom. Fighting might be the only thing he's really good at, and could be the thing that ends up saving him and the people he loves. If he wins that big fight, everything else will fall into place.

What makes Warrior different is the thick coat of family dysfunction painted over it. The two brothers whose story we follow, Tommy and Brendan Conlan, have been estranged for a dozen years. Their family was broken apart by their abusive, alcoholic fahter. But something else happened to divide Tommy and Brendan. 

Tommy is a hulking mass of anger. It seems like he can barely speak, because talking just makes the rage sputter out. He needs his father, but refuses to let him forget what a terrible man he was, using words as fists throwing punches to the stomach. Tommy needs an outlet, and punching something — someone — provides the best release. Tom Hardy portrays him as an absolute animal and you get the feeling he could tear absolutely anyone's head off in the ring. 

(Anyone who thinks Hardy is too small or whatever to play Bane in the next Batman movie is kidding himself. The man is a beast, with trapezius muscles the size of bricks. I'm told he's similarly fearsome in Bronson, but haven't seen that movie yet.)

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Brendan won't speak to his father, either. But he's made something of his life, with a wife, two daughters and job as a high school physics teacher. That life is on the verge of being taken away, with his house near foreclosure. Teaching physics isn't paying the bills, so Brendan fights on the side, using his prior experience as a MMA fighter to beat amateur wannabes silly. Unfortunately, the school isn't crazy about one of their teachers showing up to work with cuts and bruises all over his face. 

Joel Edgerton almost looks too gentle to be a savage fighter. His eyes, in particular, convey a sadness, as if he's ashamed his life has come to this. It's more difficult to believe that he could be as successful in MMA, especially advancing as far in the tournament as he does. But he also has some serious incentive to win, which I guess we're supposed to believe is enough to keep him going.

(And if we forget that, his trainer, played by Frank Grillo, gives him a pretty awesome motivational speech. It's pretty short and simple, but entirely believable.)

Then there's the father, Paddy, who got everyone into this whole mess by being a jerk and a drunk. And Nick Nolte reminds us all what a great actor he can be. He's stayed sober and carved out a strict, simple lifestyle for himself. But then Tommy comes back to remind him what a terrible father he was, and no matter how hard Paddy tries to repair that relationship and make up for what happened in the past, there's no forgiveness to be had. It's heartbreaking to watch. (Oscar nomination? Yeah, maybe.)

I don't think it's a spoiler to mention that the two brothers end up fighting each other at the end. The trailer reveals it, and the poster certainly makes a strong allusion. 

And though I kind of wish I hadn't known that going in, I suppose anyone could've figured out that's where the story was going. Otherwise, why are we really watching this thing? Besides, it's a pretty enticing premise. If two brothers are willing to punch, kick and throw each other around a caged octagon, there must be some issues between them, right?

That's actually what this movie should've been titled: Issues. The tagline could've been, "We all got 'em, but these two get to beat each other in the face with them."

So who do you root for in the finale? That's kind of the challenge the movie throws at you. If you think Tommy's been a jerk who deserves a punch in the face, here you go! Or maybe you'll think winning is the only thing that can begin to ease his pain. But then again, there's Brendan, who really, really needs the cash prize that goes to the winner. 

Is it a bit corny to have two estranged brothers work out their issues by punching, kicking and slamming each other around? Yeah, probably. But the movie sticks with it, all the way out to an ending that will make some (most?) people roll their eyes. 

Yet it's emotionally satisfying, which is really all you can ask for from a movie like this. If you get nitpick over details like who would really win or the probability of two brothers — out of all the middleweight MMA fighters in the world — facing each other for the championship, then you're not going to enjoy this. 

But it's ultimately kind of a bummer. No matter what happens, these are three broken, messed-up people who have to resort to extraordinary means to work their shit out. It's kind of hard to shake that off by the time the credits are done rolling.