Whiplash (*****)

"Whiplash" is a sadistic exercise in filmmaking. Jutting out from the screen like a rusty blade, it presents itself as a beautiful piece of art; a simple facade for something all the more dangerous and compelling. The fact that a first-year student's excursion into a music conservatory makes for such a stunning film is besides the point. Here is a story overflowing with ideas and concepts and consequences, each laid out so precisely that even the slightest alteration would completely weaken the overall picture. At risk of sounding punny, there is not a flat note across the board.

The setting is an urban music conservatory, similar in esteem and exclusivity to, say, Juilliard. Unlike most colleges though, we get a sense of intimacy. The sprawling and lush green campuses of normal universities are replaced with darkened rooms and muffled musical instruments of unknown origin. We meet Andrew, a freshman drum student alone with his kit. He practices with intense focus, his shirt soaked with sweat. Studying late, it seems. From the darkness comes Fletcher, a respected conductor and professor, hellbent on finding a core team for his jazz band. Their first meeting sets the tone. Andrew had dreams of greatness, and Fletcher is the God at those pearly gates to infamy, and he is anything but polite. 

In an intermediate jazz class, Andrew plays with fellow students, the room coldly lit and equally inhabited. It is clear Andrew has not come to school to socialize. He sits on a stool behind the first drummer, anxiously waiting his turn to play. In comes Fletcher. Like a drill sergeant, the class comes to attention, and he methodically tests each student for any sign of potential and talent. Andrew plays perhaps 1 measure of drums. So does the first drummer. Who's to hear any difference? Fletcher does, and invites Andrew to join his ensemble bright and early the next morning.

Just as one would expect, his class is anything but fun. Andrew sits as backup to the drummer, a job which is essentially a page turner. Fletcher arrives in class and immediately commands his pupils' attention. With a slight flick of his wrist, the ensemble bursts into music. We see Fletcher stop the band, citing a flat musician amongst them. He instructs each instrument to play a bar separately. Narrowing it down to a single trombone player, he asks the student if his instrument is flat. The student, terrified, nods yes. Erupting in a burst of anger, Fletcher removes him from the band, and once he is gone, reveals that "he wasn't even flat. The fact that he didn't know if he was or wasn't is even worse..."

Andrew comes to claim the chair of first drummer mostly through circumstance, and he believes it is because he has earned Fletcher's respect. He works his students hard, and even at the cost of Andrew breaking up with his girlfriend, he sees this as the key to his long-awaited fame.

Or so he thinks...

What Damien Chazelle (the director, and his second film no less) realizes is that the great villains are those that we love to hate. Fletcher could easily be turned into a screaming maniac who drives his students to the edge with no consequence. Not so. There are glimpses of humanity: Fletcher's conversation with a small girl about piano lessons, news that one of his former students recently passed away that leaves him in tears, the smile as he hears his band succeed... Fletcher is surely one of the most vile characters on film this year, but it is his humanity that compels the story forward.

Midway to the end, Andrew sits with Fletcher at a bar (as circumstances have dramatically changed), and Fletcher discusses his teaching methods. Yes, he is an unlikeable man, but his drive is and always was to find the next great musician, one that is for the ages. Andrew asks whether or not his methods could have scared off the next great talent. Not the case, says Fletcher, a great musician would never be discouraged...

The two characters at the center of this story are great for their own reasons, and it is clear that J.K. Simmons will hog most of the spotlight. Deservedly so. From the laughable, lovable man he has come to represent in the movies, here he is completely unhinged and unlike anything I have seen before. Miles Teller is Andrew, the student, buttery in the face but dedicated to his craft. In the classroom, the lights are dim, and Fletcher is but a floating head that sits in the shadows at the front. Andrew at drums is exposed: prey. The two mercilessly work towards perfection, with literal blood pouring out of them in the hopes of approval. Fletcher shows no mercy, and Andrew takes none. These are career-defining performances, one from an actor in his prime, and one from a fairly new-comer. The talent displayed is beyond belief.

The film concludes with one gobsmacked hell of a finale, and even for those who are not musically-inclined, this is a climax that will leave you pulseless. Fletcher conducts a jazz ensemble in Carnegie Hall, of which he selects Andrew to be his drummer. Fletcher, having been fired from his teaching job, now realizing who is to blame, sets a plan in motion to ruin Andrew's dreams forever. Or does he? I can't reveal anything more of the plot, but the film ends with a drum solo that truly is astounding, one that is the realization of Fletcher's hopes as a teacher and Andrew's longing for eternal fame. In the very same scene, we go from an absolute hatred of Fletcher to the core, to a deep warmth when we see his smile upon realizing his work has not been in vain. Even thinking about it, my heart races and the chills race up and down my body. Not often has a film been so fully realized with an ending to match. It truly brought tears to my eyes.

"Whiplash" deserves to be at the top of any yearly movie list because, quite frankly, it earns it. Just as we see Andrew's drum set soaked red with blood, so does this film bear a mark unlike most I have seen: the absolute authenticity that comes from raw storytelling. This movie strips its audience bare and wins them over, one beat at a time...

(Awards potential: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor (Simmons (who is apparently campaigning in supporting because... who knows), Teller), Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Original Score, Best Editing, Best Sound Mixing, Best Cinematography)

Gone Girl (*****)

Perhaps for the first time in David Fincher's career, he has made a film of and for the ages. Let me clarify first: 'The Social Network' remains one of the best films of the decade, and surely one of the finest films I have personally seen. Just as well, 'The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo' is a dark journey into sound and imagery, gorgeously-filmed and expertly paced, and 'Zodiac' is one of the finest thrillers of all time. 'Gone Girl' felt like a film that would make Hitchcock proud, and in many aspects it felt like a film that broke away from Fincher's standard of laser-precise modern storytelling and moves a little closer to classic films of the 1950's and 1960's.

We know the story, and for those who don't, it's very easy to catch up. Amy and Nick Dunne are a happily married couple who meet by chance and fall in love quickly. They share a large house. They seem perfect, that is until the marriage begins to slip. Amy begins fearing for her life. She is suspect. Nick is untrustworthy. She goes missing on the morning of their 5th wedding anniversary... All signs point to the husband.

We may or may not see what happens next. Having read the book, I was still floored by the apparent 'twist' of the film. When I read the novel last year, I found myself unimpressed by the over-the-top plot points and absurd turn of events. When I heard of Fincher's attempt to adapt the story with the original author serving as screenwriter, I was skeptical. How do you improve upon a flawed story? How can it overcome its own basic design flaws?

Flash forward to a darkened movie theater, myself seated near the front, the image fades to a silent conclusion... I was floored. If you need proof that adapting a story for a film is an art, look no further. What Gillian Flynn (the author & soon-to-be Oscar-nominated screenwriter) manages to do is so remarkable. In the year's finest screenplay to date, we see the redesign of a story and a realization of the scope of filmmaking in a way the written word cannot. It's a pure adaptation, full of wit and wonder, and surely one that elevates its source material.

As I have mentioned earlier, this is a film that recalls the thrillers of Alfred Hitchcock. Surely, with Rosamund Pike's sultry blonde looks and the chilling power she has over the film, it's not hard to blend the lines. Surely Hitchcock would be proud, and dare I suspect overcome with suspense.

To make this story work and work convincingly, the lead role of Amy Dunn was crucial. Little-known but experienced actress Rosamund Pike delivers the performance of the year. She is calculated, powerful, and crucial to the overall success and impact. In casting lesser-known actors (remember Rooney Mara's breakthrough in 'Dragon Tattoo?'), Fincher understands how to personify unique characters in ways a famous actor like Ben Affleck could never achieve (though he still achieves great work). In what is bound to be a first Oscar nomination, Pike could surely go all the way to a triumphant victory.

The supporting cast is profound, not a weak link to be found, although almost all are stellar. Take Tyler Perry (we laugh at the sight of his name in the credits). His casting as a crackpot criminal lawyer is so perfectly realized, and he has many of the best lines in the film. Kim Dickens is also amazingly effective as the lead detective who carries a sense of purity throughout the film. It's a simple but important role. Neil Patrick Harris, too, delivers chilling work.

In many ways, this is a funnier film than David Fincher has helmed before. In others, its the scariest, and I still vividly recall several scenes that left speechless from the expert craftsmanship and filmmaking on display. Even knowing how the plot would play out, the suspense was thick and the adrenaline left me nearly on the edge of my seat throughout the last third of the film. The editing is just about perfect, surgically-precise and effortlessly unsettling... It's no wonder the editing duo already have two Oscars (for both of Fincher's previous 2 films). The score explores minimalism and electronic sound to chilling effect (again, the Oscar-winning duo responsible for the 'Social Network'). One scene I'm sure many audience members will remember vividly (let's just call it 'the box-cutter scene') is all the more powerful for it's use of sound, score, and editing. It's absolutely the most horrific scene I can recall in a movie and one of Fincher's finer directorial achievements. From the build-up to the realization on film, there is not a false note to be found.

I recommend this movie wholeheartedly, and I anticipate my next viewing. The crew David Fincher has found to helm his current projects have truly outdone themselves yet again, and I am convinced that there are no greater films being made as consistently good as those by David Fincher.

(Awards potential: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actress (Pike), Best Supporting Actress (Dickens), Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Editing, Best Cinematography, Best Original Score, Best Makeup, Best Sound Mixing)

The Fault In Our Stars (****)

The romantic drama has fallen into a turmoil in recent years. With Nicholas Sparks diluting the waters with saccharine story after story, it's hard to go into a movie expecting anything but heartbreak and tears. Aside from the trailers, I knew next to nothing about the story and honestly cared little for watching it. Shailene Woodley has impressed me with her acting before ('The Descendants'), so I knew she would be more than capable of carrying a film. What surprised me, then, was the intricate relationship a film like this was able to weave together.

We meet Hazel, a teenage girl who is diagnosed with depression... On top of cancer. She reads lots and does little else. Her parents convince her to join support groups. She obliges, albeit reluctantly. As though a child on her first day of school, Hazel goes inside (all the while wheeling her oxygen tank) while her mom waits patiently in the car. "Make some friends!" she enthusiastically calls out.

In one meeting in particular, she meets - no, encounters a buy named Gus. He is handsome, outspoken, passionate, and alive. She is curious about him, as he is about her. Within hours they are already on their first date. He asks her her favorite book while insisting upon her to read his favorite: a novelization of his favorite video game. Hers? A grim drama about a girl who dies and leaves many open-ended questions.

They talk, the flirt, all the time Gus choosing to look past her sickness. He himself lost a leg to cancer years ago... What more can be said? They fall in love, they travel to meet her favorite author in Amsterdam, cancer returns, and perhaps there are some tear-jerking moments in the end.

Both Woodley and Ansel Elgort (Gus) are more than capable of their respective roles, and the chemistry is obvious. What is refreshing in a film like this is that we don't always follow the traditional movie cliches. The film deals as much about their relationship as it does with Hazel's parents and their own personal struggles.

It's no wonder it was a widely-praised film with a high level of audience enthusiasm. I found it entertaining and frankly a wonderful film about growing up in ways most teenagers shouldn't have to. Definitely a film worth remembering...

(Awards potential: Best Actress (Woodley))

Boyhood (*****)

I think I know Mason. He seems familiar to me. Whether or not my childhood was filled with moments as varied as those seen in 'Boyhood,' there is still a part of this film that rings true, something that is digging a little deeper than most movies, brushing against something profound. A story 12 years in the making seems bound for endless problems and roadblocks, both technical and in regards to story, and who knows, maybe such problems were encountered by the cast and crew. Reading about the making of this film, it is clear there was a very fluid approach, with actors contributing to the script just as much as director Richard Linklater. Time has influenced these people, and I'm sure the final film is a far cry from the initial concept that was first conceived so many years ago.

Let me start my review by stating my initial reactions as I was watching the movie: I didn't like it. The plot was trodding and it seemed heavy-handed in its dealings with things like alcoholism and divorce. The acting seemed flat and almost amateur. We follow Mason with his older sister and mother as they move across Texas for a variety of reasons, and all I could think of were the technical aspects of the production. Questions floated through my mind as to "what if an actor died?," "how did they organize a shooting schedule?," and focus on the story was at time compromised. About midway through the film, however, all my concerns slowly melted away, and I found myself realizing that my criticisms and concerns were becoming more and more invalid. What I was watching was special, indeed, and by the time the last lines were spoken and the film went black to a close, it was a feeling of breathlessness.

What I realized midway through the film was that this film felt more real than most. Mason is a quiet boy, talks politely, sulks around the city, grows up and wants to be an artist. Oh, and he wants to delete his Facebook. While I perhaps didn't personally find a connection with his experiences, I nonetheless saw him as a true character, and the awkward way he spoke and delivered lines wasn't necessarily "bad acting," it was real. The way we hear these characters speak, and especially with Mason and his sister, it is accurate, and it is how kids talk. It's really something I have never seen in a movie before, and it became so challenging and rewarding. No one makes movies about a kid like Mason, and seeing a story with so little dramatic action and consequence (while at times slow), was invigorating.

The film's original title was "12 Years" (changed due to last year's Oscar-winner, of course) and in a way, I think it's the more accurate title. Yes, we follow this boy over the course of a decade, but we also follow his father, played by Ethan Hawke, and his mother (Patricia Arquette). Both have their problems, and we see over time how people adapt, how relationships change... Both his parents are divorced, and in fact they only have two scenes together: one near the beginning of the film which erupts into a huge argument, and one near the end at Mason's graduation from high school. Look at how they have changed as people, not just physically, but emotionally - the cadence of their words and how they address each other...

The film, too, could have just as easily been called "Motherhood." Patricia Arquette becomes one of the cinema's great moms. We want to love her and cherish her in our life as the film plays out. She is fragile, has poor choice in men, but her heart is always with her children, and her willingness to let them grow and mature in their own ways is one of the main aspects explored, and she is surely a driving force throughout most of the film. A scene midway through the film shows her talking to a construction worker about going to school and getting an education, and years later we see him again, having taken her advice. The film isn't littered with borderline-saccharine moments like this, but like life, they are touching and unexpected when they do happen. Ethan Hawke is also quietly effective as a father we can all come to love, a father we would all hope to have guide us through the footsteps of life.

The praise for the film obviously goes towards concept and execution. Richard Linklater is no stranger to stories like this, and his "Before Sunrise" trilogy is a masterclass in acting, story, and character development. What a glorious resume this man is building, and perhaps no one else in Hollywood understands the maturation of human beings like he. I think everyone will take away something different from this film. There are ideas and thoughts that you'll ponder long after the film is over, and even if it's not the most gripping of film dramas, it does what most of the great movies in history do: it stays with you.

(Awards potential: Best Director, Best Supporting Actress (Arquette), Best Supporting Actor (Hawke), Best Original Screenplay)

*Best Picture of the Year is a tricky category, and based on the overall accomplishments of the film, I believe this is purely a directorial achievement. I am not necessarily convinced that this movie is one that the Academy would (or could) reward with a Best Picture nomination... Prove me wrong. 

Life Itself (****1/2)

I wonder what Roger Ebert would have thought of this documentary on his life? As we see throughout filming, Ebert was clearly active in the production of this film, so it seems all the more fitting that the triumphs of storytelling are directly rooted in his personal accomplishments, mainly his will to survive. "Life Itself" is by no means a perfect documentary, but it touches on something so sincere and moving, that I defy most movie-goers to conclude this feature without at least a tear or two. Roger Ebert was the movies, and the movies were indebted to him. If nothing else, this story is a love letter to cinema.

We open on Ebert, recently admitted to the hospital yet again as a result of cancer. His jaw, now removed, reduces his communication to a laptop, his hands, a notepad... We see the documentarian filmmaker (of Hoop Dreams fame) reflected in the hospital mirror. Roger gives him directions on how to make the film. He tells jokes, the room erupts in laughter. He smiles constantly despite the obvious pain he is in. It's a charming look at the final days of one of America's greatest critics.

The film chisels away at Ebert's childhood, his college years, first news stories, etc, all the while feeling like something I may find on a public television station. The narration (oftentimes in Ebert's own voice (I later learned this was a very effective voice-over artist)) lends insight to Ebert's early years at the Chicago Sun-Times, troubles with alcoholism, favorite Chicago bars... It's a very clunky introductory, and you feel the filmmaker's want to squeeze in as much biography as he can.

What many may not realize was that Ebert fell into movies only as a technicality. When the Sun-Times senior Film Critic retired, Ebert was volunteered to step in, and thus began the career of one of America's most trusted voices for the movies. We hear glimpses of his earlier reviews coupled with clips from the actual films (Bonnie & Clyde, anyone?). How they chose the movies they did to demonstrate his writing style is beyond me. From such an eclectic and impressive body of work, why we need to hear about "The Tree of Life" is a bit puzzling to say the least.

The fascinating story here is that of Ebert and his wife, Chaz, battling cancer and personal struggles. Learning to walk again, Ebert slowly climbs a staircase in physical therapy, an image that perhaps could come to represent the overarching theme of the entire movie. With literally half of his face missing and his voice silenced, the passion of this man to make his illness known in his final years was one of the most moving things I have ever seen.

I remember his interviews and news appearances, as well as his death. Why so many people were moved by the death of Roger Ebert is truly a puzzle. Of course, America best knew him of "Siskel & Ebert" fame (Siskel, also fleshed out through proper back story, was seemingly the catalyst to propel Ebert forward in life. He was also, perhaps, the brother he never had - all the more touching and beautiful in the film when we hear a letter Ebert wrote to Siskel's wife after his death). He was a man we all knew, and for those of us who loved the movies, he was our trusted advisor: a friend we could consult with when others told us that movies don't matter.

While I may find flaws with the technical execution of this movie, there's nothing I saw in "Life Itself" that ever made me doubt the power of filmmaking, itself. That's what Roger Ebert was a champion of, and through his death, perhaps many more will come to see the strength in his writing and the beauty in his views on life (movies and otherwise). Well worth your trip to the theater.

(Awards potential: Best Documentary)