Archive for February, 2008
So, how did we do?
Let’s take a look at how well we guessed at this year’s Oscar winners.
Picture: I said There Will Be Blood would win, but I was wrong – No Country for Old Men won, and I am very, very glad it did, because it rocked out loud. No one will give a crap about There Will Be Blood five years from now, but our Best Picture will be considered a classic.
Director: I said Paul Thomas Anderson would win for There Will Be Blood, but I was wrong – the Coen Brothers won, for No Country for Old Men. Hey, at least my logic was impeccable (that the Best Director would be from the Best Picture).
Actor: I said Daniel Day-Lewis would win for There Will Be Blood, and by God, I was right! I wish he hadn’t, though; I was rooting for Viggo Mortensen.
Actress: I said Laura Linney would win for The Savages, but Marie Cotillard was a huge surprise, winning for La Mome. So at least I wasn’t alone.
Supporting Actor: I said Javier Bardem, for No Country for Old Men, and I was right! And I dug the speech he gave; good job squeezing in a Spanish dedication to his mom.
Supporting Actress: I said Ruby Dee for American Gangster, but damned if Tilda Swinton didn’t shock everyone by winning for Michael Clayton. I’m very proud of her, professionally speaking, because she’s always been a top-notch actress who’s just not been part of the whole Hollywood schmooze scene; she likes quirky, sexually ambiguous roles, and she’s damn good at them.
Other notes from the ceremony:
1. Jon Stewart was a fantastic host. He didn’t dominate the festivities, but what he had to say was choice indeed. Great jokes, such as “Tonight we look beyond the dark days to focus on happier fare – this year’s slate of Oscar-nominated psychopathic killer movies. Does this town need a hug? No Country For Old Men, Sweeney Todd, There Will Be Blood. All I can say is: thank God for teen pregnancy.” Or “According to the IMDb our next presenter is the star of the 2010 untitled Nicole Kidman project. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome, Nicole Kidman.” Or “Away From Her is about a woman who forgets about her husband. Hillary Clinton called it the feelgood movie of the year.”
2. Even though the show was 3.5 hours long, it didn’t really feel like it. Praise is due to Gil Cates and to Stewart for keeping things moving along. Sometimes, a little too much, though – winners had less time to thank people, it seemed, and a few mentioned it during their speeches. Still, whaddya gonna do? The bottom line is that the show didn’t feel bloated, as it has in the past.
3. I was very glad to see Diablo Cody win an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay (Juno). Cody isn’t what you would call a “normal” Hollywoodite. She’s a former stripper who worked hard to get into the movie business, so she faced the double challenge of being a newbie and coming from one of the few professions looked down on more than the acting and writing professions. (I kid.) Cody’s tearful acceptance speech went like this: “This is for the writers. I especially want to thank my fellow nominees. I worship you guys and am learning from you every day. I want to thank Jason Reitman who I consider as one of my family. Most of all I want to thank my family for loving me exactly the way I am.”
Damn straight, I thought to myself as Cody broke down and left the podium. Damn straight. It was an unguarded, unscripted, honest, and emotional moment for her, and I felt immensely happy for her. Anyone who’s seen Juno can see that Cody is an extremely talented young lady, and I hope we see more from her soon.
4. Beautiful moment: Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova won for Best Original Song from the movie Once, but it was Hansard who babbled on and on during the short time they had to thank everyone. So after coming back from a commercial break, Stewart brought Irglova back out onto the stage and let her have her time as well. What an amazing, touching thing for him to do. I think the phrase “class act” is tossed around way too much when it’s not applicable, but man: Jon Stewart is the classiest act in the universe.
5. The first Best Song nominee to be performed this year was “Happy Working Song” from Enchanted, performed by Amy Adams. I don’t get into the songs much, but Adams (Junebug) was remarkable, and the song was just the kind of perky, glad, and hopeful kind that old-time Disney animated movies had all the time. Too bad the song lost.
What’s that? There’s some kind of show tonight?
Let me toss some links at you about this year’s event:
Betting on the Oscars – what to look out for
The Acceptance Speech Drinking Game
Talking with Jon Stewart, tonight’s host
377 – Vantage Point
Posted by frothy in Vantage Point on February 24, 2008
The brilliance of Vantage Point is underscored by the fact that its director, Pete Travis, had never directed a feature film before, just TV movies and miniseries. That lack of experience is completely invisible in this surprisingly taut and creative work of sheer genius.
In Vantage Point, the President of the United States is assassinated moments after taking the podium to give a speech on antiterrorism in Spain. The event is then replayed numerous times through the eyes of various characters, and each replay gives the audience additional insight as to what has actually happened. It’s not just a matter of determining the chain of events, it’s a matter of figuring out who is involved in the shooting, and to what extent.
Dennis Quaid plays Thomas Barnes, a Secret Service agent who’s being eased back into the rotation; the previous year, he had foiled an earlier attempt on President Ashton’s life by jumping in front of a bullet. Now he’s on the job in Spain, keeping a watchful – yet nervous – eye out for potential problems. Matthew Fox plays his comrade, Agent Taylor, who’s been the buffer for Barnes with the other men on the team. Forest Whitaker is an American tourist in the crowd during the speech, taping the proceedings with his Handicam, and Sigourney Weaver is a tough-as-nails news-program reporter who watches the events unfold before her on TV screens, helpless to do anything.
At times, watching this movie feels like a particularly violent punch to the stomach, because so much of the movie – but not all of it – is shot in cinema verite’ style, and you honestly feel like you’re watching raw footage. And this filming style yields a movie that’s just packed with searing emotion, taking you from shuddering lows to absolute euphoria. Whether you’re looking at the events through Howard’s camera or on the monitors in the GNN newstruck, you simply cannot turn away from the devastation. It’s a testament to cinematographer Amir Mokri that the fast-paced action and unmitigated violence lend such an aura of reality to the proceedings that you feel as if you’re watching the whole thing live on CNN at that very moment.
As I said, the events are replayed through the perspectives of various characters, including Barnes and President Ashton (William Hurt), and each time we learn a little bit more. What events occurred before the Big Speech? Did anyone know there was a potential threat against the president’s life? We need to piece things together ourselves, as if we are investigating the crime detachedly. It’s worth noting that in the earliest scenes, the atmosphere within the courtyard in which Ashton is to make his speech is markedly different from that outside the complex, where people are basically hanging him in effigy.
The entire cast is outstanding, but particular notice should be given to Quaid, as this may be his best work since Traffic, perhaps ever. Quaid has always been a poor man’s (or younger) version of Harrison Ford, but even in his heyday he was never Mister Action Guy. Here he’s a vulnerable human being, a shell of a man trying to recover both physically and mentally from the previous attempt on the president’s life. Thomas Barnes is no superhero, and because Quaid is so good you never feel certain, not even nearing the end of the movie, that he’s going to save the day and make everything all right. He might, and he might not. The bad guys might actually win.
It’s no surprise, too, that the perennially awesome Whitaker is outstanding here. His Howard Lewis is in Spain basically to get away from his wife, from whom he’s estranged, in an effort to recharge and figure out how he wants to proceed – and, of course, to witness an historic speech. It’s not implausible that an American tourist would be in the audience, and if there’s one thing we Americans like it’s our gadgets. Lewis is the common-man counterpart to Barnes and Ashton, a Johnny-on-the-spot at a critical, horrifying moment.
Had this movie been released later in the year (or even late last year), it would likely have been a major Oscar contender. From my vantage point, it seems the studio got this one wrong. Vantage Point is extremely well done, evocative, exhausting, and ultimately rewarding exercise in realistic film making.
***1/2
376 – Stardust
Stardust is a lush fantasy story about love, dark magic, evil witches, entitlements of inheritance, and the twinkling stars in the sky. It is gorgeously filmed and well paced, and its denouement will make your heart soar.
For the unrequited love of a girl, young Tristan (Charlie Cox) vows to bring back a fallen star. But once he makes it to the crater where the star hit, he realizes the star isn’t a rock at all – it’s a beautiful young lady named Yvaine (Claire Danes), who’s none to pleased to have fallen from her high-and-mighty perch in the firmament. But promises being promises, Tristan ensnares Yvaine using an enchanted chain and begins their journey back to his village, so that he may present the star to his love, Victoria (Sienna Miller).
But Tristan and Yvaine are unwittingly part of a larger story; the king of the enchanted realm (Peter O’Toole) has just died, and the new ruler will be he among the sons who possesses the kingdom’s sacred ruby, which the dying king had tossed up into the heavens, where it smacked into Yvaine, thus bringing her crashing to Earth. Now all the king’s remaining sons are on the hunt for the ruby, not knowing Yvaine wears it around her neck.
Meanwhile, three witch sisters have noticed the falling star, which is a major omen in the kingdom of Stormhold; whoever can possess the fallen star will be immortal. You don’t have to be pure evil to think immortality might be kind of fun, so the oldest of the sisters, Lamia (Michelle Pfeiffer) sets off to find it as well.
During the long journey back home, Tristan learns about love and his own parentage. Oh, does he learn about love! With a griping, angry denizen of the sky as his prisoner, Tristan thinks he has everything worked out; he’ll present Yvaine to Victoria, who will marry him instead of the cad Humphery (and really, could he be anything but a cad, with that name?).
This is more than a simple fantasy story of good versus evil. It’s about telling the difference between being infatuated and being in love; it’s about trust and righteousness; it’s about doing the right thing, even when it seems impossible to do so.
Based on a Neil Gaiman story, Stardust is impeccably written (it was adapted for the screen by director Matthew Vaughn and Jane Goldman), with rich characterizations, top-notch acting, and wondrous visual effects. Robert DeNiro gets a showy role as the captain of a flying ship (sort of a cross between a dirigible and a pirate ship), and although it IS a showy role, DeNiro is far from hammy in it – he is, in fact, outstanding. Pfeiffer is remarkably despicable as the ugly-then-beautiful-then-ugly rotten witch Lamia. She doesn’t dress down for the role, she dresses down and dirty and Lamia is not a shallow, one-dimensional character in the least. A lesser actress would have played the part a little over the top, portraying Lamia as a power-mad demagogue obsessed with looking pretty, but Pfeiffer delivered a multilayered performance, fulsome in its depth.
Danes is also a huge asset here. Her dancing eyes and rubied lips (matching the stone, of course), coupled with the CGI-added glow about her (since she is, after all, a fallen star) lend a real ethereal feel to her character, but it’s her acting that lends the appropriate gravitas; otherwise, Yvaine would be a simple, irritated version of Victoria.
And although the role of Tristan might have been given to an actor offering only a callow performance, Charlie Cox is fantastic as the protagonist. He doesn’t just let things happen to him, he makes things happen through decisive actions, good or bad. He’s forthright and honest; he’s just blinded by the prospect of love from Victoria.
Exquistely photographed and with quick, efficient pacing that doesn’t let itself get bogged down in the special effects of the moment, Stardust is a real treat for fans of fantasy novels and movies.
***1/2
Three days, including today.
So it’s more like two days. The 80th Oscars will be Sunday night. You know what that means, don’t you? It means you have only a couple of days to vote in our Oscar poll!
Let’s look at the current leaders, with 13 or 14 votes cast in each category.
Best Picture: No Country for Old Men 64%
Best Actor: Viggo Mortensen, Eastern Promises 43%
Best Actress: Laura Linney, The Savages 46%
Best Director: Coen Brothers, No Country for Old Men 62%
Best Supporting Actor: Javier Bardem, No Country for Old Men 62%
Best Supporting Actress: Cate Blanchett, I’m Not There. 54%
375 – In the Valley of Elah
Posted by frothy in In the Valley of Elah on February 21, 2008
Retired soldier Tommy Lee Jones learns his son, just back from Iraq, has gone AWOL, and he searches in vain for him, running up against resistance from both the Army and, at least initially, the local police. But unlike most military-crime dramas, he does not unfold some huge conspiracy that reaches to the very top of the command chain; rather, he has to come face to face with a reality that runs counter to what he knows about his boy.
Hank Deerfield is one of those clear-thinking, straightforward, honest characters that Tommy Lee Jones has played time and time again. In short, he’s a man who knows what he wants and how to get it, most of the time, and yet here he is baffled by the sudden disappearance of his youngest son, Mike. All he has is Mike’s cell phone, which includes short videos shot in Iraq.
Quickly, though, the case changes from a missing-persons situation to a murder, as a burned, dismembered body is found near Mike’s base. However, first there’s a question of jurisdiction – was Mike killed on the street and then dragged to within the base’s property line? No one seems to care much about how Mike came to be where he did; the official stance is that he was the victim of a drug deal gone wrong, perhaps a Mexican gang.
Hank is frustrated, and he feels that there’s more to the story than meets the eye. After all, he knows Mike would never be mixed up in drugs or anything illicit; he was a good boy. Could it be that his death was caused by one of the other three soldiers he’d hung around with the night he died? Hank’s determined to get to the bottom of it all, if only to preserve the memory he has of his son. He managed to enlist the help of a local detective, Emily Sanders (Charlize Theron), who has to fight through monumental red tape (and the patronizing attitude of her fellow cops) in order to work the case.
In the end, though, it’s not about exactly what happened to Mike, it’s really a referendum on the insanity of war. What happened to Mike in Iraq? Did he return to the States demonstrably different from when he came? It’s very difficult for the straight-shooting veteran (along with his wife Joan, played by Susan Sarandon) to grasp just how different Mike is from the boy who left home to join the armed forces, following in the footsteps of his old man and his older (and now deceased) brother.
This is a mystery that is solved in the end, but it’s not a simple explanation; even though the motives and means for Mike’s murder are revealed, nothing is really settled; only more, deeper questions on top of questions emerge. This is definitely a point in the movie’s favor. A typical murder mystery might be deciphered halfway through, with the protagonist fingering the villain in the third act, and everyone goes on to live happily ever after. This is so far from the case in this movie that it might as well be another zip code. We know who did it, we know why they did it, but we don’t know – and Hank can only guess, despairingly – what happened to allow the situation to even occur.
Jones is brilliant as always, and he earned an Oscar nomination as the taciturn Hank Deerfield, a resolute, devout man who is unwilling to believe that which runs against the facts he already has. Hank, a former MP, had also a methodical, insightful investigator in his own right, and his analysis of the developing case allows him to hold out hope that his son’s legacy, if not his life, will be kept intact. Theron is solid as the sympathetic detective; a tough-minded, almost distant cop whose own tenacity proves essential to the case. (Although arguably she comes off pretty uncaring early on.)
In the Valley of Elah, named for the place where David fought Goliath, works because of the well-cast Jones and an ending that leaves plenty of issues unresolved, to its credit. There’s interaction with Emily’s son that could have been excised (although it serves as the source for the movie’s title), and there’s not quite enough interact between Hank (who’s investigating, near the base) and Joan (who’s still at home, a two-day drive away); true, too, that the stiff-necked bureaucrats are a little too stubborn and uncaring. But Paul Haggis does a good job otherwise of keeping the story on track without revealing too much too soon. Even when the end is in sight, Jones’ evocative, empathetic performance keeps us from being too complacent.
***
A Streetcar Named Desire
I finally got around to watching this 1951 classic. Because, you know, it’s a classic. And I feel guilty about opining on movies when I haven’t seen some of the allegedly great movies in American cinema, not to mention foreign-language ones.
Anyway, a few thoughts. First, the acting is more melodramatic than dramatic. “Overwrought” is a term that comes to mind, although bear in mind this is the 1950s, and this style of acting wasn’t too unusual.
Marlon Brando has a breakout role as Stanley Kowalski, a rough but intelligent man married to Stella (Kim Hunter) in New Orleans. When Stella’s sister Blanche (Vivian Leigh) arrives for an extended visit, the delicate family balance is shaken, even shattered. Seems Miss Blanche has a few bombshells to drop.
Hunter, Leigh, and Karl Malden (as Brando’s best friend) all won Oscars for their work here, making this movie the first to earn three acting Oscars (Network would become the second). Of course, it’s Brando that everyone remembers, and with good reason. His Stanley isn’t just some loutish oaf who grunts a lot and picks his teeth with a crowbar, or something. He’s no Fred Flintstone. Stanley is actually pretty erudite and knowledgable; he’s just quick to temper and harbors a violent nature. Brando’s commanding performance brings out the duality in Stanley perfectly.
It’s hard for me to really praise a movie that treats spousal abuse with such a cavalier attitude. Sure, I know, back then it was almost acceptable, to a fault, for husbands to slap around their wives, but times have changed. And I have to look at these older movies, by default, through that sort of lens. When one of Stanley’s poker buddies comes looking for his wife, threatening to kill her, am I supposed to relate to it? I can’t, not in this day, but perhaps in 1951 people could. (This sort of scene isn’t played for laughs in this movie; nothing is.)
What does hold up over the decades is the psychological terror felt by Blanche, resulting in the gradual decline of her already-fragile psyche. What we see is a battle of wills between Blanche and Stanley, two people from opposite stations in life who seem – as implied by their actions and their double-edged words – attracted to each other. Blanche is haughty, entitled, and high maintenance; Stanley is brutish, angry, and abrasive. There’s an underlying sexual tension that’s barely hinted at, and that – the interplay between these two combustible characters who clearly despise one another – is what really makes this movie work. Blanche versus Stanley, Blanche versus Stella, Blanche versus Mitch (Malden), Stanley versus Stella, Stanley versus Mitch, these are all strong conflicts in the movie, but it’s Blanche – the interloper – versus Stanley – the manly man of the family – that trumps them all. And Leigh and Brando smolder, a fire that sometimes explodes into conflagrations that carry out into the street.
Another aspect taking the edge off this then-edgy thriller is the fact that the director, Elia Kazan, is perhaps best known for being a stool pigeon. Kazan willingly named names to the House Un-American Activities Committee, getting his friends and coworkers blacklisted from movies for decades in the process, simply in an effort to keep his own career afloat. For this reason, he shouldn’t be lauded but damned. Some might argue that it’s better to examine Streetcar only as a movie, because surely Kazan’s activities offscreen do not detract from the movie’s qualities. But the film doesn’t exist in a vacuum (metaphorically speaking), not when it comes to something as encompassing as Kazan’s sellout, selfish attitude that ruined careers.
***
374 – Skinwalkers
Posted by frothy in Skinwalkers on February 18, 2008
For years, it has been prophesied that when a certain boy turns 13 (under a red moon, natch), the curse of the werewolves will be lifted. This is great news for some of the werewolves, who are tired of chomping on human flesh, but anathema to others, who dig that sort of thing. The boy is being protected by his family, although his mother (Rhona Mitra) has no clue about his true split nature, from the keep-the-curse stalwarts, led by Varek (Jason Behr). Yes, it’s yet another and-a-child-shall-lead-them supernatural-beings tales.
When the bad werewolves figure out who and where Timothy (Matthew Knight) is, they launch an attack, and finally all is revealed to Timothy and his mom, Rachel. This ensures that somewhere near the end of the movie there will be a battle to the death, and only one can survive, either Varek, or the good-guys leader, Jonas (Elias Koteas, who’s kind of slumming here). On Varek’s team is a busty, evil villainess (Natassia Malthe) and some hippie-looking dude, while Jonas has a grandma, a Native American non-werewolf, a high school athlete and his girlfriend (Jonas’ daughter, of course).
The trend in recent years has been that werewolves are somewhat equal to bikers or heavy-metal musicians, so that’s how Varek’s squad is presented, complete with pulse-pounding riding and intro music. By contrast, the good guys are stereotypically a ragtag band scurrying from safe place to safe place, always on the run, always ragged.
As werewolf movies go, this one isn’t awful, but it’s really not all that much to write home about, either. It’s got hunky guys and sexy babes, and although there’s a lot of violence there’s almost no blood at all. (In fact, it’s possible the movie would have been better if it had been filmed in black and white.) It has likeable and despicable characters, and it manages to shade them all just a hair. Its main selling point just seems to be the true identity of Timothy in relation to everyone else, as revealed in the final third of the movie, but it’s just not enough to make the movie remarkable enough to warrant a second look. In other words, it’s just okay. It’s as dark and dank-looking as, say, Underworld, but without the charisma of a Kate Beckinsale or Michael Speedman to lift the movie.
**
373 – Gone Baby Gone
Posted by frothy in Gone Baby Gone on February 16, 2008
Like its cousin Mystic River, Gone Baby Gone is based on a Dennis Lehane novel about an abduction. And like Mystic River, the novel – and the subsequent film – takes no predictable route to reach its conclusion and offers no easy answers to complicated problems. It doesn’t just tug at your heartstrings, it snaps them in twain, reattaches them, and yanks them out again.
The three-year-old daughter of Helene MacCready (Amy Ryan) has gone missing, and the child’s aunt and uncle approach private detectives Patrick Kenzie (Casey Affleck) and Angie Gennaro (Michelle Monaghan) to help the police with the case. The detectives agree, albeit reluctantly, because a case of this scope and magnitude (including a lot of media attention) is a little beyond their purview.
During his time on the case, Patrick makes discoveries he wish he hadn’t made, and facing opposition from people he knows in the neighborhood, the police, and even his lover, Angie, he makes quick decisions with the best of intentions. Some of these decisions work out well, and others change his life for the worse, forever.
The first thing that strikes you about this movie is how authentic everything feels, from the actors to the sets. The movie is set in a crime-ridden section of Boston, with plenty of working-class (and a lot of low-class) denizens with their almost stereotypically comic accents and coarse language. But although Affleck is a local boy, most of the cast isn’t; this is, I believe, what they call acting. And, like Clint Eastwood’s Mystic River, director Ben Affleck seems to have fully captured the desolate, desperate, and bitter lives of dishonest, disreputable people who often turn to crime and other shenanigans to get by in life. Affleck’s Dorchester is unyielding, where hard people live.
Another asset is the film’s narrative thread. Although the story is told linearly, it’s not easy to guess ahead of time what’s coming. And it’s not a product of the film’s moving quickly, as some films do (a fast-paced film means less time for the moviegoer to spot holes in the plot), as there are realistic lulls around every scene’s corner. At one point in the movie, with the benefit of watching it at home, I had to pause it quickly to assess the situation at hand, and I tried to predict where the movie was going. I was wrong. It’s tightly plotted, but it’s not unjustly or implausibly plotted, not in the least.
Casey Affleck, who looks very much Ben’s younger brother but apparently got all of the acting genes in the family, is superb as the conflicted but driven Patrick. His youthfulness notwithstanding (he’s only 32), Affleck has the poise and guile of someone much older, a fact that’s even noticed by other characters in the film. Faced with incredibly difficult decisions, Patrick has an unwavering sense of what is truly right, but he’s never a single-minded, ignorant zealot who knows what he knows. At times during the case, Patrick’s faith is shaken, and by the end of the movie he’s not completely sure he’s made the right decision. In other words, what you get at the end is not a neat, happy ending at all, a fact that shouldn’t surprise those who have seen Mystic River.
As the anguished (but loose) mother, Amy Ryan notched a Best Supporting Actress nomination, but my opinion is that it’s not a nomination that’s entirely deserved. Ryan is good, especially for a fairly inexperienced actress, but she’s not so commanding or compelling as to warrant that sort of accolade. Faring about the same was the usually steady Morgan Freeman, who’s okay here but whose role (and use as a plot device) is a bit underwritten.
In fact, it’s plain that this movie fails only where Mystic River succeeded so strongly; the former did not lapse into cliches, and Gone Baby Gone does. Although the movie generally presents plenty of plausible twists, some of the characters are rather predictable. The final resolution of the plot, in fact, seems almost too obvious in hindsight. Because of this, Gone Baby Gone just misses being a great movie, and instead it has to settle for being a pretty good film with an exhilirating performances from Casey Affleck and Ed Harris.
***
Voting is ongoing!
No, not the presidential primary thingies. I’m talking about the Oscars!
Vote here. Especially if you haven’t seen any of these things and have no idea what they’re even about.
I’m reposting this because I see that particular post has had nearly 50 visitors, but each poll in it has only eight or nine total votes. Lot of looky-loos about!
372 – The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
Posted by frothy in Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford on February 14, 2008
Although as long as its title is unwieldy, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford is (apparently) true to life and is the beneficiary of a smart, uncharacteristically supporting performance by Brad Pitt as the folk-hero villain and a strong, if a bit mannered, performance by Casey Affleck as his eventual killer.
It’s the latter days of the James Gang, and weary older brother Frank (Sam Shepard) is calling it quits after one last train robbery. Jesse’s not so inclined, though, so he assembles a new crew of cutthroats, including the Ford brothers, Charley (Sam Rockwell) and Bob (Affleck). But all the while, Jesse is always looking over his shoulder, sure that someone’s about to cut him down, perhaps even someone from his own gang. It doesn’t help that he’s written terroristic telegrams to governors and presidents alike, either.
The story’s told through the eyes of Bob Ford, a stammering young man who strongly idolizes Jesse to the point of carrying around a shoebox of dime novels about the legendary outlaw and knowing all sorts of arcane facts about Jesse. Not surprisingly, to Jesse and the rest of the gang (including Bob’s brother Charley), this seems childish and downright pathetic, and consequently they don’t give the young Ford much respect.
This attitude leads to a strange mixture of resentment and continued idolatry on the part of Robert Ford. Should he continue to try to ingratiate himself with Jesse, or should he turn him in to the authorities? Turning him in might make him a hero – the one man who could fell Jesse James – but then he’d really lose whatever remaining respect Jessie had for Bob. (To Bob’s thinking, he’s one of Jesse’s pals.)
Affleck’s Oscar-nominated performance is wonderful, walking the fine line between hammy and nuanced. A less-capable actor (or, perhaps, an actor less on top of his game) might have taken Bob’s idiosyncrasies and run with them, played them up rather than muting them somewhat, making them feel more natural. You get the sense that although Bob is not a good man by any means, he is human in his actions and reactions; he can be a cold-blooded murderer and thief, but how he deals with each minicrisis is neither insincere nor cartoonish. It might be a testament to Affleck that he’s able to make something out of the relatively dull character of Robert Ford.
Brad Pitt is simply Brad Pitt. He’s come a long way since movies like Legends of the Fall and A River Runs through It; he’s now a Good Actor, not just a beefcake model, and he’s effectively menacing and confusing as James, who was (the movie says) going a bit off the deep end in his waning years even without having to deal with the specter of betrayal. James is sad, excitable, angry, dissonant, and Pitt is up to the task. Weirdly enough, though, although Jesse James is the nominal subject of the movie, Pitt takes a backseat to Affleck. This isn’t about romanticizing the lawless West and the tough fiends who populated it; it’s about dreams crushed and comeuppance delivered.
At more than two and a half hours, this is not a broad, unsubtle look at real-life events, and it’s not always easy to watch. James is not only not presented positively, he’s shown as a realistically diabolical criminal, not just some pretty boy with a lot of “cute” facial hair. Multilayered characterizations and sweeping, Oscar-nominated cinematography make this an effective Western.
***
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