I stopped to stretch my legs around 7 pm in a little town called Cuba, which is roughly 80 minutes north of Albuquerque Airport. I was eating a bowl of chili in a plain little cafe when I noticed one of the most brilliant sunsets I’ve seen in this country in I don’t know how long. (I saw an equally magnificent one last March when I was in Vietnam.) But I couldn’t take a photo because the iPhone is in a coma. So I quickly searched online for a New Mexico sunset photo that closely resembled what I was seeing. Here it is:
Telluride to Albuquerque Airport took me about six hours, not counting stops. Or maybe seven. It’s really something else to find your way without the aid of Google Maps as you’re whipping along at 80 mph. I get the willies when I’m about to do a long drive. Before I got out of bed this morning I was imagining all the scary shit that could happen. Then I hit the road and it was nothing. Water off a duck’s ass. It’s the same thing with writing in a way. The less you fret about what to write or how to say it, the easier it is once you get behind the keyboard. Just do it.
It’s 1:20 pm Telluride time, and that means no formal review of Ben Younger‘s somewhat familiar but hard-hitting Bleed For This, which I caught last night at the Werner Herzog. It’s a true-life comeback saga about a boxer (Vinnie Paz or Vincenzo Edward Pazienza) who not only recovered from a broken neck in a 1991 car crash but returned to the ring for over a decade and went on to beat Robert Duran twice.
Bleed is intense, gripping, pounding — at times familiar and difficult to watch but well assembled. And the acting is right in the pocket. Miles Teller delivers an obvious Best Actor-ish performance — he sweats, strains, gives it serious hell, shrieks, pushes hard, delivers. Paz isn’t a sweet or vulnerable character — he’s a hammerhead. His heyday nickname was “the Tazmanian Devil.” But Teller, no stranger to pain or blood or car crashes, owns the territory.
Aaron Eckhart, as Paz’s trainer Kevin Rooney, is also in line for some Best Supporting Actor action, and not just because he shaved his head and gained weight but jettisoned his natural speaking voice and really became this other guy.
Set in working-class Rhode Island and featuring wall-to-wall Italian-American goombah types (gold neck chains, loud emotional outbursts, flat vowels), Bleed For This will inevitably be compared to to David O. Russell’s The Fighter, but where is it written that only one film or one filmmaker can go to town with this kind of material?
Manchester by The Sea director-writer Kenneth Lonergan and star Casey Affleck sat for a Sunday afternoon q & a at Telluride’s Werner Herzog theatre. I showed up to record it — here’s the mp3. I said last January that Affleck is a lock for a Best Actor nomination, and right now it’s hard to envision any male lead performance that will pose a serious threat, much less nudge him aside. Yeah, I know — Tom Hanks as Sully, right? A very good performance but I don’t think so.
Here’s a partial transcript of what Affleck said yesterday about his working relationship with Lonergan during the shoot:
Manchester By The Sea star Casey Affleck, apparently snapped during a recent Telluride event. (I wasn’t there and I’m not going to guess or call around to find out.)
“I felt very, very safe. I had to show up every day emotionally charged. That was my responsibility, to be in a really shitty mood or feeling very, very sad or whatever. But Kenny would not resent me or fire me. Nor would he be afraid of me. And he would set very firm parameters. A very firm guiding light. That’s right, this isn’t right, this is the right spot. To be out of control is a real luxury [for an actor on a film set], and I was able to be out of control because Kenny had drawn the map, so all I had to do was walk it with conviction. And I knew that he knew I’d be going into the right places.”
Since I’ve been on a Scott Feinberg jag, I may as well respond to his assessment of Maren Ade‘s Toni Erdmann, which screened yesterday morning (i.e., Sunday) at the Telluride Film Festival.
Despite a nearly three-hour length (i.e., 162 minutes) and a certain number of walkouts observed, Feinberg regards the film as “one of the all-time great father-daughter films, and every bit as much a celebration of joie de vivre as Zorba the Greek, a defense of comedy like Sullivan’s Travels and a celebration of family like It’s a Wonderful Life.”
Before I re-post portions of my 5.13.16 Cannes review, consider the feelings of a woman friend who told me last night that she felt shackled and imprisoned by Erdmann, and that it’s a relatively slight story that could’ve delivered the goods within a modest running time (100 or 110 minutes) and that it certainly didn’t need to last two hours and 42 drag-ass minutes, for God’s sake.
HE Cannes review: “Maren Ade‘s Toni Erdmann is a dry, interminable father-daughter relationship farce. It’s about a hulking, white-haired, 60ish music teacher named Winfried (Peter Simonischek) who tries to rejuvenate a distant relationship with Ines (Sandra Huller), his career-driven daughter, by parachuting into her life and pretending to be a boorish asshole named Toni Erdmann. Winfried’s strategy is to puncture Ines’ uptight veneer by acting out a series of socially intrusive put-ons that are essentially passive-aggressive.
Translation: Feinberg was as confounded and irritated by this film, despite its chilling, fascinating aspects, as I was.
“During its first North American screening at the Telluride Film Festival on Saturday night, I struggled to follow what struck me, and many others, as a convoluted plot. Now, it’s a challenge to get most Academy members to watch a film just once, or to care about sci-fi films even when they’re easily decipherable. So I’m skeptical that this film, which Paramount will release nationwide on Nov. 11, will factor in much of the coming awards season.”
I’m sorry but that’s a correct assessment. Paramount publicists are looking at a major uphill climb to sell Arrival as an awards contender.
Variety‘s Owen Gleiberman has declared that Mel Gibson’s Hacksaw Ridge, which he calls a “brutally effective, bristlingly idiosyncratic combat saga,” has “a good chance of becoming a player during awards season” and “will likely prove to be the first film in a decade that can mark Gibson’s re-entry into the heart of the industry.”
I assume Gleiberman is suggesting Hacksaw could rank as a Best Picture contender, and that perhaps Andrew Garfield might earn laurels as a Best Actor contender. I’ve presumed all along and sight unseen that Hacksaw Ridge wouldn’t even begin to merit award-season consideration because of Gibson’s longstanding pariah status. And if that wasn’t enough, I’ve also been presuming that the film’s Christian-faith narrative wouldn’t go down all that well among industry types, the thinking being that the Republican right has owned Christianity lock, stock and barrel since the early ’80s and, you know, eff that jazz.
Reported yesterday by Deadline’s Pete Hammond, taken from remarks spoken by Tom Hanks during a Sully q & a: “When you see something that is brand new, that you can’t imagine, and you think ‘well thank God this landed’, because I think a movie like La La Land would be anethema to studios. Number one, it is a musical and no one knows the songs.
“This is not a movie that falls into some sort of trend. I think it is going to be a test of the broader national audience, because it has none of the things that major studios want. Pre-Awareness is a big thing they want, which is why a lot of remakes are going on. La La Land is not a sequel, nobody knows who the characters are. But if the audience doesn’t go and embrace something as wonderful as this then we are all doomed.
“We all understand the business aspects of it. It’s cruel and it’s backbreaking and take-no-prisoners. But there’s always that chance where the audience sees something that is brand new, that they never expected, and embraces it and celebrates it. We might be in the luxurious position that we can say we don’t have to pay attention to the trends, but there are other people whose parking spaces with their names on them are paid to follow these trends. I don’t take anything away from them and there are some good movies that come out of that. But we all go to the cinema for the same thing, that is to be transported to someplace we have never been before.”
Like any arresting science-fiction tale, Denis Villenueve‘s Arrival (Paramount, 11.16) challenges you to stretch your cognitive processes. It’s a workout. It also has a great set-up — a visiting (not an invasion) of earth by 12 super-sized alien vehicles, in various locations around the globe. And a linguistic professor, Dr. Louise Banks (Amy Adams), who has raised and lost a daughter to disease, tasked by the government (primarily represented by Forrest Whitaker in military fatigues) to somehow communicate with the alien pilots, called Heptapods, to learn where they’re from and what they want.
Sounds cool, no? An atmospherically haunting thing. Creepy images of massive, split-egg-shaped alien vessels hovering just above the earth. Intriguing, fascinating. A cerebral experience of discovery and synapse-expansion. And of course a hero’s journey for Dr. Banks, who’s just about the only person on the engagement team with an intelligent mindset about the visitors, which is that the only way to go is to communicate, exchange knowledge, share, learn.
Jeremy Renner‘s Ian, an open-minded scientist/mathematician, shares Banks’ attitude. And, down the road, his fluids.
Everyone else in Arrival is a lizard brainer — scared, defensive, concerned about threat, preparing a potential attack. And of course the story will be about Banks saving the world from this absurdly militant attitude.
The Heptapods are apparently looking to assess the nature and character of humans and determine if they deserve to survive with the benefit of their long-game altruism or whether it’s better to…what, ignore or even exterminate and thereby save the universe a lot of grief? Something like that.
So Arrival is more or less the original The Day The Earth Stood Still. The basic message is that aggression is for morons. The Heptapods are Michael Rennie‘s Klaatu. Dr. Banks is a combination of Sam Jaffe‘s Professor Barnhardt (a stand-in for Albert Einstein) and Patricia Neal‘s Helen Benson, both of whom come to agree with the message that Klaatu has come to earth to deliver, which is that aggression and violence are unacceptable and that the earth will be destroyed if the militants don’t cool their jets.
Clint Eastwood‘s Sully (Warner Bros., 9.9), which I caught this morning at 10 am, reminded me once again of that Billy Wilder remark about how vitally important story structure is, and how it’s the toughest thing in the world to get right. Sully‘s structure really works. It delivers the “Miracle on the Hudson” saga, drawn from Sullenberger and Jeffrey Zaslow’s 2010 book “Highest Duty”, in a grabby, hopscotchy, time-shifting way. It depicts, as if you didn’t know, Flight 1549, which ended very quickly after Sullenberger and his co-pilot Jeffrey Skiles landed a smallish US Airways jet on the Hudson due to both engines dying after hitting a flock of birds. The whole episode began and ended within 208 seconds. Sully’s decision to go for a water landing resulted in the saving of 155 lives (i.e., passengers plus crew). The film is tight and efficient (only 96 minutes) and a highly skillful emotional button-pusher. The applause at the Palm theatre was heartfelt and prolonged. And Clint and Hanks showed up for a q & a along with costars Aaron Eckhart and Laura Linney. Tom Hanks seems assured of a Best Actor nomination — everyone seems to be of that opinion. But I’m outta here — have to catch a 7:45 pm screening of Arrival.
(l. to r.) Aaron Eckhart, Laura Linney, Clint Eastwood, Tom Hanks and moderator Rebecca Kegan following this morning’s Telluride screening of Sully.
Barry Jenkins‘ Moonlight, which I saw last night at 8 pm, is a gentle, sensitive saga of a gay Miami black dude named Chiron. The story is told in three chapters over a 16-year period. Three actors portray this extremely guarded and hidden soul — Alex Hibbert as the little-kid version (nicknamed “Little”), Ashton Sanders as the teenage version and Trevante Rhodes as the adult version (called “Black”) in his mid 20s.
Moonlight didn’t destroy me or rock my soul, but I was impressed and moved. I admired it as far as it went. I just had to adjust myself to what it is as opposed to the earth-shaker that some have been describing.
Trevante Rhodes during third-act scene of Barry Jenkins’ Moonlight.
Jenkins (who has worked for years as a senior Telluride Film Festival volunteer) knows what he’s doing, and the subject, for me, is a unique thing. I’ve never seen a “travails of black closeted gay guy” movie before, and this one quietly works on its own terms.
With Birth of a Nation all but out of the race, will Moonlight take its place as the reigning black-experience Best Picture nominee? Or will Denzel Washington‘s Fences be the champ? Or will they both make the cut? Hard to say. I have no dog in this — I’m just watching and wondering. Moonlight is very quiet and specific and soft-spoken, but it never really builds up a head of steam. Which is fine with me. I respected the quiet, deliberate, soft-spoken scheme.
Message sent to Hollywood Reporter award-season columnist Scott Feinberg about an article he posted earlier today (9.3) about Telluride’s response to Manchester By The Sea: “At the end of your piece you’ve written that ‘a Best Picture nomination [for Manchester By The Sea] is possible, although it strikes me as an uphill climb since this is a film that is likely to engender respect and admiration more than passion or enthusiasm.’
“I’m reading the words but they’re not sinking in because they so brutally violate my sense of what this film is and how it’s playing. I just came from a 1:15 pm Galaxy screening and this movie is destroying people — it’s a broken-hearted masterpiece — and you’re saying it’s facing a tough haul to land a Best Pic nomination? Especially in this, one the weakest award seasons in recent memory? You’re astonishing, man.”
