Review: The Fighter (David O. Russell, 2010)

The Fighter follows true life amateur boxer Mickey Ward (an understated but relatively strong Mark Wahlberg) as he attempts to come back from a string of losses and finally make a career of boxing.  A strong sense of authenticity is added by the presence of many of the actual people and their family members who lived out the story in the early nineties, including Mickey's trainer playing himself.  Christian Bale again see-saws his weight to play Mickey's crack addicted brother-from-another-father Dicky Eklund.  He isn't "Machinist" thin in this one, but a very long way from his Batman bulk.  No, much more impressive than his weight loss is his complete personal transformation into the character.  I don't think Bale has ever disappeared this completely in a role before, and multiple times during the film I'd forget I was even watching an actor.  Melissa Leo is no less arresting as the boys' mother, alternately enraging and subtly earning sympathy from the audience.  

The movie itself is actually quite hilarious.  Despite my initial worries, the extremely comical tone thankfully gives way to emotional resonance in the middle third.  Through his brother, mother, and sisters, Mickey explores themes of failed dreams, letting go, and the importance of family so by the time the final bout hits the screen you're as invested in his triumph as they are.

After Three Kings and I Heart Huckabees a true life based boxing drama would have been the last thing I'd guess for Russell to direct, but that sense of unpredictability serves to complement him well here with the otherwise meat-and-potatoes underdog sports story.

Review: I'm Still Here (Casey Affleck, 2010)

In late 2008, Joaquin Phoenix threw the entertainment industry for a loop when he offhandedly mentioned his permanent retirement from acting in the pursuit of a rap career.  Over the course of the following two years, his weight ballooned along with a wild shock of hair and a beard that could make Jeff Lebowski jealous.  His increasingly erratic, obtuse television and press appearances (including an inaugural rap performance) fueled rumors of a meltdown even as seemingly inside information pointed at the debacle as an elaborate ruse.  This was later confirmed by Affleck himself, not even two weeks after the film saw release.  I'll try to sum things up using as few sarcastic quotation marks as possible.

The "mockumentary" follows a fairly linear format, filming Phoenix as he abandons acting in favor of his real dream: rapping.  Nervous foul-mouthed breakdowns ensue throughout aimless, meandering sequences of obnoxious, drug influenced behavior.  It's like watching a bizarro version of 8 Mile without any purpose or narrative structure.  Some sequences abandon any pretense of reality and become exaggerated to the point of disbelief as the film takes on a tone that seems almost antagonistic towards its audience.  Despite an unfortunate use of the word "faggot", a parade of full frontal male nudity, and pretentious soul searching montages I'd still hesitate to classify this as a mockumentary or even the brand of discomfort comedy that's become popular in the past decade.  It's definitely painful to sit through, but clearly the creative team here is nowhere near the league of Christopher Guest, Ricky Gervais, or Larry David, though Andy Kaufman seems the most obvious influence.

The only real poignant moment arrives in the form of a metaphor from Edward James Olmos on the transitive nature of fame and perseverance.  What would have been the high point of any other movie just serves to reflect all the tedium surrounding it.

The bigger pieces of media coverage are woven through the film quite well and there's some fascination to be had by guessing if the other celebrities were in on the joke, but overall I'm Not There feels about ten times longer than its hour and forty minutes.  Even if they had maintained their gamesmanship long after the movie released, the legitimacy would have added only marginal interest to an utterly boring film.  Maybe try to focus harder on the "mock" part of "mockumentary" next time.

Review: Splice (Vincenzo Natali, 2009)

Splice is an extended allegory for parenthood masquerading as a science fiction film.  To be sure, it has elements that strain at the imagination, but by and large it is more concerned with exploring the stages of child rearing than it is with the titular genetic fiddling.

Clive (Adrien Brody, sporting his dumpy scientist look emphasized by the giant anime poster hanging in his room) and Elsa (Sarah Polley) are geneticists whose funding is pulled just as they're about to crack the mystery of human DNA splicing.  Rather than acquiesce and severely shorten the movie's running time, they continue testing in secret.  The result is a creature named Dren (spoiler alert: it's nerD spelled backwards.) I can't say much more without giving away too many plot details, but Splice manages to lightly touch on themes of euthanasia, (late stage) abortion, stem cell research, and unplanned pregnancy.  It mostly ignores the hard science behind the proceedings in favor of an ethical and emotional focus as the two leads convincingly portray the psychological struggles of caring for and raising children.

The film comes off as drab though.  The set design and special effects are routinely excellent, giving Dren a number of eeriely human characteristics that seem real but at the same time very unsettling.  These become more and more prominent towards the ending which, while exciting, seems out of tune with the rest of the movie.

Much of the joy of Splice is following Clive and Elsa as they cope with the weight of their decisions and new roles, so I'll leave it at that except to say this is one of the most fascinating movies I've seen in a long while.