Category: Drama

ANOTHER WOMAN (1988)

by Miguel E. Rodriguez

DIRECTOR: Woody Allen
CAST: Gena Rowlands, Mia Farrow, Ian Holm, Blythe Danner, Betty Buckley, Martha Plimpton, John Houseman, Sandy Dennis, Philip Bosco
MY RATING: 8/10
ROTTEN TOMATOMETER: 59%

PLOT: Facing a mid-life crisis, a woman becomes drawn to the plight of a pregnant woman seeking psychiatric help from the shrink next door.


Woody Allen’s Another Woman is the first movie I can remember that compelled me to do a little background research before writing about it.  It is moody, somber, theatrical, and by far the least funny of Allen’s films that I’ve seen (and I’ve seen Blue Jasmine).  It falls in that part of his career when he was delving into more dramatic fare; September had been released the year before, and Crimes and Misdemeanors would come a year later.  There is none of the charm and lightness of his earlier comedies, which may account for why I’ve never seen it mentioned alongside his other films whenever his filmography is discussed.  And yet, I was curiously drawn into this story to such a degree that when two revelations arrive almost on top of each other, I gasped.

Another Woman tells a brief chapter in the life of Marion (Gena Rowlands), a middle-aged woman married to Ken (Ian Holm).  Marion is Ken’s second wife; she was literally the “other woman” that caused Ken to divorce his first wife, Kathy, played by Betty Buckley in a single devastating scene that vividly showcases the guilt that Marion and Ken have both learned to live with in different ways: Ken gently accepts Kathy’s “condemnation”, while Marion buries the guilt deep.

Marion is a professor of philosophy at a local university.  To work quietly on a new book, she rents a small one-bedroom flat nearby and uses it as her office.  However, through a trick of acoustics, she realizes she can hear voices coming from the flat next door through an air vent on the floor.  It’s a psychiatrist’s office, and she is suddenly privy to intensely personal conversations with his patients.  (I was reminded for a minute of Rear Window.)  One such patient is Mia Farrow, playing a character whose name I won’t reveal because it’s barely mentioned in the film for a reason.  She is pregnant, and during her sessions, she reveals doubts about her identity and/or purpose in life.

For Marion, who has always been sure about everything and everyone in her life, Farrow’s confession strikes a nerve, and the rest of the film consists of Marion’s struggle to reconcile her perception of herself and her well-constructed life with how everyone else truly sees her.  Throughout the movie, people are telling her how wrong she is about her relationships with her divorced brother, with an old friend, with her own husband, with her best friend, even with the Mia Farrow character.  Has she been deceiving herself her entire life?

Okay, so this subject matter isn’t exactly a barnburner.  But consider how the movie looks and moves, and the performances from Gena Rowlands and her supporting cast (it’s Rowlands’s movie to win or lose).  Look at the warm, yet subdued lighting schemes, shot by Ingmar Bergman’s favorite cinematographer, Sven Nykvist.  (Allen is a huge Bergman fan – indeed, this film is actually a loose reinterpretation of Bergman’s film Wild Strawberries [1957].) Interiors look, not sad, exactly, but…lived in.  Bright sunlight is only ever seen from inside through a window.  Exteriors look as if Allen specifically waited for overcast days to shoot.  Everything matches Marion’s internal gloom as she re-examines her life.

At the center of the film is a dream sequence that feels more like a foreign film than anything I’ve ever seen from an American film.  Marion dreams she is in an old stage theater, where figures from her circle of family and friends are rehearsing a play based on moments in her life.  Is this self-indulgence from Allen?  Maybe.  The dialogue in this sequence is so formal and, I guess, elliptical at times that it almost feels as if it were something translated into English from another language.  Vincent Canby of The New York Times called this out, saying, “The rounded sentences sound as if they’d been written in a French influenced by Flaubert, then translated into English by a lesser student of Constance Garnett.”  I’ll probably understand this criticism more when I learn who Constance Garnett is, but I get his point.  However, while it was noticeable, I did not find it distracting.  I thought it was a fair interpretation of how our dreams rarely follow strict logic.  Marion’s dream is structured, but the content is skewed.  I was fascinated by it.

Do I think this is a movie you need to see?  Who can say.  I’m glad I saw it, at least.  It shows a side of Allen’s directorial psyche I had never seen before, even though I had read about it from many other sources.  And it inspired me to do a little introspection of my own, which is something, I guess.  The movie’s final scene includes a beautifully loaded question: “…I wondered if a memory is something you have or something you’ve lost.”  Marion has been asking herself this question the whole movie without realizing it.  I wonder if my answer would be the same as hers.  Or yours.

CLEAR AND PRESENT DANGER

By Marc S. Sanders

Tom Clancy’s Jack Ryan finds himself in an inadvertent private war between the United States and Colombian drug kingpins in Clear And Present Danger.  Harrison Ford returns as the heroic government operative. I like this film for much of the same reasons I liked the prior Jack Ryan pictures.  These movies give an inside view of internal politics within Congress, the CIA and inside the hallowed halls and Oval Office of The White House.  The Clancy adaptations are not just about action set ups and shootouts.  Though we are treated to plenty of that material as well.

The film opens with a luxury yacht being raided by the Coast Guard. They uncover Colombian killers that have murdered a wealthy American and his family for reasons of a failing partnership with drug dealers.  The incident can be bridged to the President played by Donald Moffat, a terrific character actor who also shared the screen with Ford in Mike Nichols’ Regarding Henry. He secretly initiates a retaliation for what has occurred while also insisting on collecting over six hundred and fifty million dollars he feels the US is entitled to, following his friend’s murder.  Henry Czerny, playing a carbon copy of his role in Mission: Impossible, headlines the covert plot and recruits a mercenary named John Clark (Willem Dafoe) to place a clandestine militant team into the South American jungles to take out the drug runners one by one.

The suit and tie formal dynamics fall on Jack Ryan when he swears testimony on the legitimacy of the country’s response.  However, the President’s armament exercises are unbeknownst to Jack.  When it finally dawns on him what has been occurring, into the field Jack Ryan goes to clean up the mess.

A lot of spinning plates structure the storytelling of Clear And Present Danger which is on par with Clancy’s thousand-page novels.  There’s an abundance of characters to address, betrayals to happen and even the mechanics of various weaponry and policy decisions that need exploring, despite the innate complexities of it all.  It can feel overwhelming.  However, with this film, as well as with The Hunt For Red October and Patriot Games, I feel included.  If you’re patient through the exposition and set ups, then these fictional controversies become very absorbing, and you feel like you’re there.  

There’s a great scene between Ford and Czerny racing to download vs delete some suspicious files on a computer.  These guys are in their boring offices, dressed in their boring suits and they’re clicking on the mouse pad and typing away on the keyboard.  Director Phillip Noyce gets nail biting back and forth closeups on each guy as they are off to the races trying to get ahead of each other.  Then it becomes a yelling match in the hallway with threats of prosecution between both men, and I feel I’m in on the whole thing.

There is also a good amount of internal conversations between the main drug czar (Miguel Sandoval) and his top henchman (Joaquim de Almeida).  Almeida’s role is written very well as we witness how smart and resourceful he is while protecting the best interests of his employer.

For the most part, the action is nothing special.  However, the highlight of the whole film involves an SUV convoy getting ambushed by Colombian terrorists mounted on rooftops firing missiles at the government vehicles below.  Harrison Ford prefers to do as much stunt work as possible and it definitely helps the ten-minute sequence.  This is an outstanding part of the picture with perfect editing of sound and photography. Later on, we see Ford leap on to the landing gear of an ascending helicopter. Very impressive. Harrison Ford always does his best to invest himself in his movies.

I also admire many of the explosions that went into the Special Forces’ continuing storyline of sabotaging the drug lords’ laboratories and various locales. Nothing is miniaturized here, and the resulting blasts are really big and eye opening. This movie did not shortchange on anything it was attempting to accomplish.

The film adaptation of Clancy’s fourth book takes some major liberties.  In the novel, the story is primarily focused on John Clark and his mission, with Jack Ryan not appearing until after the midway point.  However, at this stage of Harrison Ford’s career there was no way he’d accept just a supporting role.  The notable changes hold well within the screenplay though, and a showdown between Jack Ryan and the President is one for the ages.

Overall, Clear And Present Danger was a successful picture at the box office. Critics and Clancy fans alike had favorable responses to the picture.  So, it’s disappointing that producers decided to try numerous reinventions of the Jack Ryan franchise subsequentially.  Those other movies, along with a TV show, would prove well.  Yet, it is regrettable that Harrison Ford, or at least this interpretation of the hero, did not move on through Tom Clancy’s ongoing stories transcending within other areas of government and espionage.  If you have read the books, then maybe you recall the unbelievable ending to Without Remorse.  Boy, would I have loved to see what Harrison Ford did with the cliffhanger that closed out that book. Care to know? Then this Unpaid Movie Critic suggests you pick up a book.

NOTE OF TRIVIA: James Horner conducts the music for this film and he includes samples that were used in the beginning of Aliens. Interesting to catch this as the music works for both a science fiction piece, as well as for a political thriller.

TRUE BELIEVER (1989)

by Miguel E. Rodriguez

DIRECTOR: Joseph Ruben
CAST: James Woods, Robert Downey Jr., Margaret Colin, Yuji Okumoto, Kurtwood Smith
MY RATING: 7/10
ROTTEN TOMATOMETER: 96% Fresh

PLOT: A cynical former civil liberties attorney, now reduced to “specializing” in defending drug dealers, becomes transformed by an eight-year-old murder case.


I don’t know if True Believer counts as a “forgotten” film in today’s world, but it’s certainly not a movie that I hear mentioned anymore.  Directed by genre-hopping journeyman Joseph Ruben, whose films are more recognizable than he is (Dreamscape, The Stepfather, Sleeping with the Enemy), and anchored by James Woods and Robert Downey Jr., True Believer is a solid entry in the crime/courtroom drama/thriller arena, at least in broad strokes.  However, there are momentary lapses of logic that strain credulity, and despite the momentum of everything around them, they were enough to affect my opinion/impression of the movie.

After a flashback and prologue that introduces us to his future client, we meet Eddie Dodd (James Woods), a fiery former civil liberties attorney who once defended Black Panthers and other social revolutionaries in the 1960s.  Now, at the tail end of the ‘80s, in the waning days of the “Me Generation”, he specializes in defending drug dealers and/or distributors under the guise of painting the government’s use of wiretaps and undercover agents as invasions of privacy…a shabby attempt at investing his sleazy client list with some sort of social nobility.  Into his life comes an aspiring attorney, Roger Baron (future Oscar-winner Robert Downey Jr., looking fresh and innocent during what must have been one of his infamous rough patches).  Roger idolizes the old Eddie Dodd, the idealist, and is severely disillusioned by the current Eddie, the opportunist.

Things change, though, when a Korean mother and daughter track Eddie down and ask him to defend their son and brother, Shu Kai Kim (Yuji Okumoto, The Karate Kid Part II, Better Off Dead), who is eight years into a prison term for a murder they say he didn’t commit.  The daughter says she tracked him down by going to all the courthouses: “They all speak of you, and they all say the same thing…you do cases cheap.”  He dismisses them with a vague promise to “review the material,” but after some predictable prodding from Roger, his new conscience incarnate, he takes the case.

What follows is a well-directed, well-paced mystery-slash-courtroom thriller.  It’s not fancy or especially slick, but it held my interest, which is all I ask of a mystery where I’m expected to keep track of a lot of information.  And there is a lot of information to keep track of.  Eddie and Roger, with the assistance of their P.I., Kitty (the invaluable Margaret Colin), uncover inconsistencies in witness accounts, inconsistencies from their own client, the involvement of the Aryan Army, a bona fide conspiracy theorist who believes the phone company killed Kennedy, and a possible link to an 8-year-old drug bust.  (That’s about all I can say about the plot without ruining the surprises of the evidence chain.)

As I said before, the movie is solid, but they made one major misstep: casting the talented Kurtwood Smith as opposing counsel, D.A. Robert Reynard.  From his first scene, no matter how nicely he smiles or how friendly he seems, he is obviously the bad guy, because it’s Kurtwood Smith.  Because of his mere presence, you know he’s not to be trusted and must be brought low, no matter how logical his courtroom arguments are.  He is clearly the villain, even if he’s not doing anything truly wrong.  So right away, any possible objectivity about who’s right and who’s wrong is skewed.  It would have been more interesting if the ostensible bad guy had been cast by someone who is at least a little ambiguous.  Just my two cents.

There are other issues.  As the investigation progresses, there is an anguished speech from Eddie to Shu Kai Kim that spells out exactly where the title of the movie comes from and ends with some tortured dialogue that must have looked good on the page, but just doesn’t feel right coming out of James Woods’s mouth.   In another scene, Eddie walks away from two armed men who have every reason to shoot him in the back but inexplicably choose not to, presumably due to a sudden attack of conscience.  Given what these two men had done just previously, this inaction seemed wildly improbable.  Then the D.A., whom we have seen is highly intelligent, allows himself to get cornered in the courtroom when he absolutely should not have.  Not the actions of a smart man…but certainly the actions of the clear villain, because it’s Kurtwood Smith.

Because of these inconsistencies, True Believer will probably never be mentioned in the same breath with Jagged Edge or The Verdict or any other great courtroom thriller.  But the performances from the leads are more than adequate (despite James Woods’s incongruous ponytail), and the mystery is fun to unravel, and Joseph Ruben’s direction is competent if not splashy.  In other words, it’s your slightly above-average ‘80s genre movie.  (And I am sometimes a sucker for ‘80s nostalgia, so…there you go.)

TALK RADIO (1988)

by Miguel E. Rodriguez

DIRECTOR: Oliver Stone
CAST: Eric Bogosian, Ellen Greene, John C. McGinley, Alec Baldwin, Michael Wincott
MY RATING: 8/10
ROTTEN TOMATOMETER: 82% Certified Fresh

PLOT: A rude, contemptuous talk show host becomes overwhelmed by the hatred that surrounds his program just before it goes national.


Oliver Stone’s Talk Radio is entertaining and, at times, mesmerizing without being an altogether enjoyable experience.  I salute the craft of the film and the bravura performance by Eric Bogosian, reprising the role he created on Broadway, but despite my high score, I’m not quite sure to whom I would recommend this film.  I believe it’s an important placeholder in Stone’s filmography, coming as it does after Wall Street and before Born on the Fourth of July.  It shows immense faith in the material and portrays its characters with brutal honesty.  The closest comparison I can make is to the Safdie Brothers film Uncut Gems.  Both films are fraught with tension, featuring unlikable fast-talking main characters who tend to step on or over or around the people closest to them to achieve their goal, or sometimes just to get their own way.  They’re fascinating to watch and listen to, but I would not want to be stuck in an elevator with them.

Talk Radio centers on a Dallas radio shock jock named Barry Champlain.  Bogosian’s look and performance seems so closely modeled on Howard Stern that I’m surprised Stern didn’t sue the filmmakers for not obtaining his permission to do so.  (In fact, the Barry character is modeled after real life talk show host Alan Berg, who was gunned down by an ultra-right-wing group in 1984.)  The whole first “act” of the film takes place in and around the broadcasting booth where Barry holds court, listening to and berating callers from all walks of life on topics ranging from “I Love Lucy” to the war on drugs to Holocaust deniers to one dude who eats dinner with his cat every night.  If nothing else, this sequence boosted my respect for anyone in Barry’s line of work.  To be able to take calls from random folks with random issues, and to somehow spin their questions or problems into a mini-monologue or diatribe that manages to entertain or offend – usually both – the caller or the listening audience – usually both – is a skill I will never possess.  (Bogosian’s voice is tailor-made for the role, a nice sweet-spot baritone that sounds as if he’s been doing radio for years.)

Mixed in with the calls are the ones from clear-cut racists, warning Barry that they know where he lives, that they know “Champlain” is not his real last name, calling him Jew-boy and “f—-t”, sending him packages in the mail and claiming they’re bombs.  One loathsome item is sent to him wrapped in a Nazi flag.  Other callers don’t seem to have any affiliation at all aside from their utter hatred of Barry Champlain.  There’s a scene where Barry has been invited to a public event to introduce someone.  The moment he takes the stage, there are a few cheers that are eventually drowned out by a sea of boos and jeers in concert with a hailstorm of food and garbage thrown by the audience.  Barry has the nerve to look a little shocked.  I remember thinking, “How can you not expect this kind of reception?”

But then I remember thinking, about the audience members this time, “Well, if you hate him so much, why are you listening to his show?”  The movie is making a statement about the bizarre relationship between the general public and entertainment celebrities that they “love to hate.”  It seems to me their lives would be infinitely happier and less angry if they just switched over to NPR or smooth jazz once in a while.  No one forces them, or anyone, to engage with a TV show or movie or radio show or anything else they don’t like.  But with Barry, and presumably many other shock jocks in real life, people seem to need them, to use them as an excuse, I guess, to get riled up, to feel fueled by righteous anger.  The shock jocks are handy targets, especially because the callers can remain anonymous, much like social media.

There is a long rant from Barry himself about this phenomenon late in the film.  There was a plan for his show to go national, but it has been derailed for nebulous reasons, and so a broadcast intended for the entire country is still confined to the Dallas area.  After an ill-advised guest appearance by a stoned idiot (Michael Wincott!) and a couple of calls that go completely off the rails, Barry loses it and tells his listeners:

“You’re happiest when others are in pain.  That’s where I come in, isn’t it?  I’m here to lead you by the hands through the dark forest of your own hatred and anger and humiliation.  I’m providing a public service. … I come in here every night, I tear into you, I abuse you, I insult you, you just keep coming back for more.  What’s wrong with you, why do you keep calling?”

In another movie, that kind of rant might skew towards comedy.  Here, it serves as a painful peek into the psyche of a man who has a job that he’s good at, but there’s a part of him that despises himself for it, and that self-loathing has overflowed the boundaries of his own soul onto and over his listeners.  Even he can’t understand what his audience is thinking. I found myself wondering if any other shock jocks out there might feel this way.  I wonder if this might be one of Howard Stern’s favorite movies, or if it was one of Don Imus’s favorites.  I have never listened to either one of their shows because…well, because that’s my right as a human being.  But I wonder, nevertheless.

As I said before, I admire the craft of the film.  Stone and his collaborators (especially cinematographer Robert Richardson) do a great job with creative camera angles, lighting, and editing for those long stretches of the film where we simply sit and listen to Barry Champlain talking to that endless stream of callers.  Most of those calls end threateningly or are threatening throughout.  This has the effect of creating tension almost out of thin air, a tension that suffuses the entire film.  Are we going to get a maniac who takes Barry hostage on the air?  When Barry unwisely invites a listener to come down to the station and appear on the air, we’re thinking, “You idiot, he’s going to kill you!”  Even if none of that happens, we’re worried about it the entire time.  While this method is an effective use of cinema, as I said before, I cannot honestly say I had a “good time” watching it.  When the ending comes and the final credits roll, I will carefully say that there was a sense of relief, not at how it ended, but just relief that it ended.

Talk Radio is a well-made film featuring a stellar performance from Eric Bogosian.  If you sit down to watch it, I believe you will feel exactly what Oliver Stone meant for you to feel.  Just don’t expect it to tickle.

GUNFIGHT AT THE O.K. CORRAL (1957)

by Miguel E. Rodriguez

DIRECTOR: John Sturges
CAST: Burt Lancaster, Kirk Douglas, Jo Van Fleet, John Ireland, DeForest Kelley, and a young bit player named Dennis Hopper
MY RATING: 8/10
ROTTEN TOMATOMETER: 87% Fresh

PLOT: Lawman Wyatt Earp and outlaw Doc Holliday form an unlikely alliance which culminates in their participation in the legendary Gunfight at the O.K. Corral.


In real life, the legendary gunfight at the O.K Corral in the frontier town of Tombstone lasted thirty seconds, but what kind of movie would that be?  (Kill Bill: Vol. 2 springs to mind…)  A 1950’s Western requires a long-to-medium shot of the good guys – Wyatt Earp, his brothers, and Doc Holliday – striding down the street to meet the challenge of the dastardly Clantons, who had gunned down Wyatt’s youngest brother in cold blood.  We need a gunfight, not too long, but longer than 30 seconds.  And we need to make sure the ratio of surviving bad guys to good guys is just right: 0 to all.

John Sturges’ Gunfight at the O.K. Corral delivers the goods in a remarkably mature film for its time, free (for the most part) of cheap sentimentality and distractions from the main plot.  That’s a double-edged sword, though: we rarely leave the side of either Wyatt Earp or Doc Holliday, but the result is we get little to no information about Earp’s brothers until the final reel, nor do we get many details about Earp’s romance with the lovely Laura Denbow, a high-class gambler who knows enough about cards to beat the men at their own game.  We only find out they’re engaged as an afterthought, it seems.

As for Doc Holliday’s relationship with Kate Fisher (Oscar winner Jo Van Fleet), the word “dysfunctional” is woefully inadequate.  Loosely based on Holliday’s real mistress, referred to only as “Big Nose Kate” on Wikipedia, she seems to exist only to serve as Holliday’s psychological punching bag when required.  Her emotional yo-yoing gave me whiplash: she pledges her unending devotion in one scene, tries to stab him in another, helps him escape a lynch mob, takes up with the loathsome Johnny Ringo after yet another fight, begs to be taken back, and eventually tells him, “I’ll see you dead!”  With friends like these…

But even that kind of sordid melodrama is not enough to derail the throughline of the film, which is focused intently on establishing the rocky relationship between the morally good Wyatt Earp (Burt Lancaster) – who nevertheless wears a black hat the entire film – and the morally chaotic Doc Holliday (Kirk Douglas), a professional gambler who leaves a string of dead bodies behind him, all killed in self-defense, of course.  Earp also helps get Holliday out of town before a mob can lynch him, so Holliday decides to stick around until the debt is paid.

I think the essence of their relationship is summed up in a scene where Earp is forced to deputize Holliday when no other options are available.  Earp reluctantly walks up to Doc, tells him to raise his right hand, and says, “Do you solemnly swear to uphold…oh, this is ridiculous.  You’re deputized.”  Doc: “Wait a minute, don’t I get to wear a tin star?”  Earp: “Not on your life!”  Both men are torn between their philosophy and their sense of honor.  Holliday is no hero, but he’ll help Wyatt until his debt is paid.  Earp despises Holliday’s moral code, but he’s the best gunslinger in town.  What can you do?

All of this is handled in dialogue that seems mostly uncluttered by the hokey clichés I’ve heard in so many other films of the 1950s, even some of the great ones.  This may perhaps be due to the fact the screenplay was written by Leon Uris, a novelist who would eventually go on to write, among many others, Exodus, Topaz, and QB VII.  Listening to the characters talk, it was interesting to hear how natural they sounded, compared to the overblown melodrama of so many other westerns and dramas of that era.  The dialogue was clearly written by someone with a writer’s ear, who wants to get to the point of every scene with a minimum of fuss or flowery exposition.

As I mentioned, however, this quest for directness means we spend all our time with Earp and Holliday and almost no time at all with the Clantons or Earp’s brothers or anyone else.  By the time we hear Wyatt’s brother, Virgil, is in trouble, we’ve almost forgotten he HAS brothers.  As far as the Clantons go, we hear everything about them secondhand until we finally meet them in Tombstone.  We never even see Wyatt propose to Laura; we barely even see them courting (their courtship appears to consist of one false arrest and one kiss in the moonlight).

And I would be remiss if I did not mention…that song.  I learn from IMDb that the song, “Gunfight at the O.K. Corral,” that plays over the opening and closing credits, and which also plays over any transitional scene as Earp moves from one town to the next, was one of the inspirations for the theme song for Mel Brooks’s parody Blazing Saddles.  Brooks even got the original artist, Frankie Laine, to sing for his own movie.  It is so corny and earnest, juxtaposed against the gritty characters and scenery, that any sequence featuring that song loses all credibility.  If the filmmakers had just ditched that song, I might consider this one of the greatest Westerns of all time.  (see also Rio Bravo with Ricky Nelson’s crooning.)

But…having said all that, I must report that Gunfight at the O.K. Corral was entertaining from start to finish.  By avoiding the temptations to give in to melodrama and hokeyness, we are presented with a surprisingly solid Western drama that culminates in a decent (for the late ‘50s) gun battle.  It’s not as flashy as anything from one of Eastwood’s spaghetti westerns, and it’s not quite as thrilling as the one at the end of 1993’s Tombstone, but it’s satisfying, nevertheless.

(And for the record, when it comes to memorable lines, against Val Kilmer’s immortal “I’m your huckleberry”, I would gladly put Kirk Douglas’s venomous, “You slut!” …you have to see it in context, trust me.)

CALL ME BY YOUR NAME (Italy, 2017)

by Miguel E. Rodriguez

DIRECTOR: Luca Guadagnino
CAST: Armie Hammer, Timothée Chalamet, Michael Stuhlbarg
MY RATING: 10/10
ROTTEN TOMATOMETER: 94% Certified Fresh

PLOT: In 1980s Italy, romance blossoms between a seventeen-year-old student and the older man hired as his father’s research assistant.


Call Me by Your Name is remarkable because it tells a heartbreaking first-love story that could have easily devolved into cheap melodrama.  I mean, look at the plot description above.  It has “soap opera” written all over it.  But because director Luca Guadagnino (Bones and All, the 2018 remake of Suspiria) applies restraint, and because the screenplay by James Ivory (of Merchant Ivory fame) sticks to realism as opposed to predictable scripted nonsense, and because of the fearlessness of the film’s two leads, Call Me by Your Name becomes one of the best films about the thrill and heartbreak of first love I’ve ever seen.

The story takes place in the summer of 1983, in Italy.  The Perlmans are on vacation at their villa in the Italian countryside.  Mr. Perlman (Michael Stuhlbarg) has hired an American, Oliver (Armie Hammer), to assist him with research over the holiday.  Elio (Timothée Chalamet), Mr. Perlman’s 17-year-old son, appears to take an instant dislike to Oliver, but we later see this is a maneuver designed to disguise his real, and scary, crush on Oliver.

…but I don’t want to write a full synopsis of the story, because I guarantee it would read like someone’s Twilight fan-fiction or something similar.  What happens is reasonably predictable and has been seen in countless movies from Douglas Sirk to Nora Ephron.  What makes this movie special is how it happens.

There is not a single scene or shot in the movie that feels routine.  Or, not “routine”, that’s not the right word.  The whole movie feels authentic.  Nobody talks in screenplay-ese (except for a sensational speech from Mr. Perlman near the end, which I will forgive because it works).  Whatever happens, whenever it happens, feels spontaneous and precisely observed.

Here is at least one moment that captures what I mean.  Elio’s crush on Oliver has gotten deeper, but he’s kept it to himself.  One night, the two of them and a bunch of Elio’s friends visit a local bar with an outdoor dance floor.  Oliver starts dancing with a pretty girl.  Elio’s friends get up to dance, but Elio stays behind, eyeing Oliver and the girl, and you can almost hear the gears turning over in Elio’s head.  He finally does get up to dance, but watch his movements carefully: he starts dancing with a girl, but surreptitiously moves closer to Oliver for a moment.  Oliver turns to Elio, and Elio abruptly turns away and pulls a little move and slide, pretending not to notice Oliver while also trying to impress him a little.  Elio turns back, sees that Oliver is no longer looking, and quickly moves back towards him.  This kind of behavior is so specific, and yet universally recognizable.  There was no dialogue, but I knew everything going through Elio’s head in every second of that scene.

I also admired the scene, done in one take, where Elio finally reveals his feelings to Oliver, but it’s all done in this marvelous code, where Elio never actually says precisely what he’s talking about, but Oliver is smart enough to decipher the code.  (“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”)  I’ve seen so many films where the Oliver character is written as an otherwise adult person but has to be incredibly dumb in order to prolong the “idiot plot.”  How refreshing to be confronted with characters with working brains.

Guadagnino also appears to be a great fan of Japanese films, particularly those of Yasujiro Ozu.  Throughout the movie, there are many scenes that are divided, almost like chapter headings, by a series of stationary shots, held for several seconds, of ordinary items: a window, or a staircase, or the still waters of a lake, or an apricot tree.  Ozu was known for doing the same thing in his films; they were called “pillow shots,” because Japanese poetry utilizes the same device, using words instead of shots, to separate thoughts or ideas.  These “pillow shots” lend a sense of poetry or…I don’t know what, exactly, to the film.  It may look (and sound) a little pretentious, but trust me, it works.  It made the movie feel as if there were great currents of significance rumbling below the surface.

Alert readers may notice I haven’t even mentioned the sex scenes yet.  Going into this movie, I remembered that there was some hoopla about the graphic nature of those scenes, but I get the feeling they’re like the ear scene in Reservoir Dogs: everyone thinks they remember seeing the ear actually getting cut off, but we don’t.  Tarantino tactfully moves the camera up and away and leaves the dismemberment off-camera.  Same thing here.  Guadagnino leaves no doubt as to what is about to happen, but then moves the camera away, or cuts to the next scene, or expertly positions the camera so the naughtiest actions are never actually seen.

This is shrewd filmmaking.  If the film had been filled with NC-17-worthy content, the message would have been lost.  It would have become a movie about the sex instead of being about the turmoil and ecstasy of being in love with someone who loves you back, even if it’s only for a short time.

I should also mention the roles of Elio’s parents.  I can see how some people might watch the movie and imagine that his parents are far too forgiving, especially given their religious upbringing.  However, this was another welcome departure from the realms of unnecessary melodrama.  Instead of scenes where the furious parents make unreasonable demands or deliver intolerant lectures, we are given a father and mother who know enough about parenting, and about their son, to realize when it’s time to lecture and when it’s time to just let things happen.  I’m not suggesting they would ever willingly allow their son to go into harm’s way.  But they’re smart enough to know how important it is that Oliver and Elio take a little sabbatical together before Oliver’s final departure.

(They also know when a small lie is sometimes necessary at the appropriate moment.  After Mr. Perlman’s wonderful speech at the end of the film, Elio asks him, “Does mother know?”  Mr. Perlman hesitates, then delivers a very tactful answer.  To me, this was his way of protecting his son at a time when he desperately needed comfort.  I suppose it could be interpreted either way, but since Mr. Perlman knows his wife, I believe it was a perfectly timed lie.  Just a small one.  It’s a magnificent button to the scene.)

Call Me by Your Name deservedly won the Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay that year.  It’s a masterpiece of storytelling by osmosis, without using signal flags or hokey dialogue.  It recalls with perfect precision how it feels to be uplifted and crushed emotionally, and how one must decide how to deal with those feelings.  I was never the 17-year-old son of a professor with romantic feelings for his assistant, but I understood and identified with Elio nearly every step of the way during the movie.  I would imagine many others can, too.

RUSTIN

By Marc S. Sanders

I’ve heard of Martin Luther King Jr.  I’ve heard of Rosa Parks.  I’ve heard of Malcom X.  I’ve heard of Medgar Evars. 

I had never heard of Bayard Rustin. 

I guess there’s just a lot of history left out of the books.

Rustin tells the story of Bayard Rustin (2023 Oscar nominee Colman Domingo) who was treated as an outcast by his friend Dr. King and the NAACP when he attempted to think of the grand possibilities of organizing the largest civil march ever to happen.  The secretly homosexual civil rights organizer eventually did see his vision come to light, however, but he had to get started with very little support or resources.  Director George C Wolfe with screenwriters Dustin Lance Black and Julian Breece use this film to depict how it all came together.

When I saw George C Wolfe’s Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom (with Oscar nominee Chadwick Boseman) my take was that it worked like a stage play on a unit set.  The sensational cast of Rustin perform in the same way, catering to what would be a live audience.  However, the unit set has been expanded to a headquarters office on the second floor, as well as Rustin’s bedroom, and the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and the National Mall in Washington D.C.  While the CGI background of the nation’s capital do not appear seamless against the cast, it is fortunate that very little of it upstages the performances from Domingo, Chris Rock, Glynn Turman, CCH Pounder, and especially Aml Ameen as Martin Luther King Jr.

Colman Domingo portrays this individual with unwavering confidence in his character.  Rustin insists on a non-violent two-day march, despite the local authorities who only grant him one day and limited resources.  One problem is that there are not enough hotels that will accommodate black guests.  Segregation might have ended in 1954, but in 1963, you would believe otherwise.  While debating with the police captain in front of Lincoln Memorial, Rustin is accused of raising his voice and yet he reminds the captain that he’s never changed the volume of his tone.  Rustin vows that this march will exceed 100,000 people from all different states.  He’s also adamant about the police authorities not carrying their service weapons to steer clear of any reason to incite violence. 

A bigger problem is bubbling within his own community of civil rights leaders.  He’s no longer associated with the NAACP which has Roy Wilkins (Chris Rock) leading the charge. Still, he needs their support. Because he does not have the respect, charm and arguably the good looks of Dr. King, Bayard’s passion falls on deaf ears and a lack of motivation from these powerful men of influence.  A large challenge comes from the arrogant Representative Adam Clayton Powell (Jeffrey Wright) who will proudly sit at the other side of the table with his long cigarette, pressed suit and pencil thin salt and pepper mustache.  With a gruff tone in Wright’s voice, this is a marvelous antagonist.

Over the radio airwaves, Senator Strom Thurmond, who was still in office at close to age 100, all the way through 2003, is building a campaign against Bayard Rustin.  Rustin has a past of suspected ties to the Communist Party, and it will also not bode well if his closeted homosexuality is revealed.  On top of that, Mr. Rustin lives with personal problems and imperfections just like anyone else.  He is trying to balance a relationship with Tom (Gus Halper) a young, white gay man and strong supporter of the cause, but Bayard is also involved with a married, closeted man as well.  None of these issues can be afforded to weigh down what Mr. Rustin and his team of youthful, optimistic volunteers are striving for.

Wolfe’s film is less than two hours, though I wish it could have been longer.  It is very engaging and certainly not difficult to follow, especially when text appears on screen to tell us who everyone is from the start.  The movie efficiently incorporates all of these dimensions into isolated episodes for Baynard Rustin to confront.  Primarily, it reflects the debates he has with the civil rights leaders and the naysayers.  There are wonderful moments shared between Colman Domingo and Aml Ameen.  Domingo also has great scenes with Gus Halper who plays Tom as someone uncompromised in the mission even if his lover is unfaithful.  Domingo is the more compelling scene partner with Chris Rock, though, who I have never considered a strong actor. A good effort is made here, but Rock is not altogether convincing as an NAACP leader. 

What I wish for, however, is some more reenacted footage of the actual historic event that famously included Martin Luther King’s “I Have A Dream” speech.  There’s a slight tease of that speech but King was so appealing in that moment that it could never be recreated so well.  It was already perfect.  What I wanted to see was some other happenings going on during this event.  We see buses arrive, chairs getting set up, people gathering, mostly black, but other races as well. What other speeches occurred on that day?  What else was said? 

I recall an episode of The Cosby Show where Theo and Cockroach had to write a school paper about the event and their parents and grandparents talked about how they drove down from New York to D.C. in buses and how hot it was that day. They described people who wore pins that said “Kiss Me I’m Black,” “Kiss Me I’m Jewish,” “Kiss Me I’m Irish,” and so on.  It might have been said to lean into Cosby’s brand of humor, but I also believe it was true.  That episode seemed much more descriptive in about ten minutes of sitcom dialogue than the film Rustin depicted. 

How was the audience on the National Mall responding?  Were people fanning themselves from the heat?  What were they saying to one another?  What songs were they singing?  Wolfe’s film only gives a tiny glimpse of this groundbreaking moment in time when 250,000 people assembled. The picture just doesn’t appear entirely painted.  Perhaps budgetary reasons were the cause of that.

Rustin is a good film and does a fine job of depicting this unsung man’s achievements despite the challenges he always faced with a smile.  Domingo is great at donning the grin with missing teeth and clumsy black framed glasses, and a loose tie with a wrinkled shirt.  He is positively absorbed in this period of time.  Still, it would have been welcome to see more of his end results. 

The picture concludes on a terrific beat before the inevitable footnote text arrives with most film biographies.  I have just observed a man who will not shut up and never tire from pursuing his seemingly impossible dream.  Baynard Rustin was likely considered a pest who would not let up.  Yet, the script closes on the fact that in spite of all I have witnessed, Bayard Rustin was likely the humblest of all of these civil rights servants.

Go learn more about our Civil Rights history and allow yourself to see one of the best performances of the 2023. 

NYAD

By Marc S. Sanders

When some people go through a midlife crisis, they might buy themselves a car, get a new job or opt to not get out of bed for several days.  When Diana Nyad goes through a midlife crisis in her early sixties, she motivates herself to swim 103 miles from Cuba to Florida.  She came up short at age 28, but over thirty years later no one is going to convince her she shouldn’t try again.

Annette Bening portrays the real-life swimmer whose determination will bear the brunt of self-torture to complete arguably the maritime equivalent of climbing Everest.  Jodie Foster is Diana’s best friend and coach, Bonnie Stoll.  As acting partners and the characters they play, the leading ladies make a good pair.  

My first compliment has to go to the makeup department led by Ana María Andrickson.  The actresses received Oscar nominations, but the work done on Bening to play Nyad is astoundingly convincing. Diana makes several attempts to try to complete this challenge that’s never been accomplished before.  With each try, the dried-up complexion, blistering sunburns, chapped lips and bloodied cracks that prominently show on her body are truly painful and awfully uncomfortable to gaze upon.  At times, I was not as focused on the dialogue shared between Foster and Bening as I was on Andrickson’s masterful work.  The makeup alone tells an impactful story. A clear oversight by the Academy.

Annette Bening is particularly good in her role.  At times she’s a terrible annoyance and unlikable.  Yet, a sixty something year old woman who wants to defy all logic and the literal forces of nature will have to be a certain brand of jerk to move forward with her goals. This also comes with the natural degeneration of a body of freckled dry skin, loss of muscle mass and arthritic bones. Bening is far removed from the glamorous roles of an impressively long career past (Bugsy, American Beauty) to get to a persistent, unwavering zenith that the real Diana Nyad had to emote.

Jodie Foster is fine as Nyad’s best friend and former lover now coach.  I’m not sure all the award nominated praise she’s received for this part is merited, but she’s worthy of falling in line with other celebratory coaching mentors like Mickey from the Rocky films and Mr. Miyagi from The Karate Kid.  The film focuses so much on Diana Nyad though that there’s not much depth to Foster’s role.  She does the job, but it did not feel like it demanded much.  Frankly, Viola Davis in Air and Maura Tierny in The Iron Claw left me with more of an impression in an astounding year of great films and performances from 2023.

The unsung cast member who’s getting next to no press recognition is Rhys Ifans as John Bartlett, an oceanographer recruited by Nyad and Stoll to gauge immediate weather patterns and what the currents of the Atlantic are expected to do during the swimmer’s trek.  Ifans is a fantastic supporting character actor who is tasked with finding that suitable small window of time for Diana to start her journey. Within the context of the script, he offers the suspense needed for this sports film.  Can Diana Nyad hold up against the very real and insurmountable warnings that John describes?

Swimming is quite boring to watch.  However, this venture has cause for concerns.  Brutal storms, stinging jellyfish with undetectable approaches, and sharks.  Salt water, weakness and fatigue, the chops of the tide and mental hallucinations are also bears of contention.  A charter boat with Bonnie and John on board with a watchful, supportive crew sail alongside the swimmer, but they can only do so much if she intends to achieve her seemingly impossible goal unassisted.

Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi and Jimmy Chin are the directing team for Nyad with a script written by Julia Cox based on Diana Nyad’s novel account.  Most of the film is patterned like many other sports films focusing on an underdog.  I knew nothing about this person or her accomplishments.  Frankly, what I’ve learned is unbelievably impressive beyond what this picture focuses on.  Naturally, you’ll get an idea of how the story is going to conclude.

To enhance the ho hum activity of the swimming scenes, the filmmakers incorporate some of Nyad’s dreamlike delusions to get inside her head.  Falling rainbow stars onto the ocean surface as well as a yellow brick road leading to the Taj Mahal look as fantastical as they should, even if they drift into sidebar distractions.  I appreciated the handful of scenes where Rhys Ifans lays out the desperate concern shared with Jodie Foster about a lack of progress where Diana is wasting strokes against a current as well as his fear of oncoming sharks.  He builds suspense to keep the film focused. It’s pretty cool by the way how the crew responds to the shark issue.  

In addition, as good as Bening and Foster are with enormous careers of outstanding roles, much of their shared dialogue often comes off a little too hokey.  Granted, it’s a standard sports film and it’s more impressive that it’s all true, but Nyad sometimes plays off like a cheesy TV movie lacking that cinematic edge I was looking for.

An unclear element offers glimpses of Diana’s past as a beginner child swimmer who suffered personal trauma. It’s clear what happened to her, but these quick flashbacks are also mixed in with an unclear picture of her parental lineage and other ingredients.  I still don’t know why there were snippets of Diana playing Parcheesi.  Nor do I know who she was playing with to uphold its significance in the final edit of the movie.

Nyad is a biography worth seeing. The endurance the central character sustains to achieve the impossible is tremendously inspiring.  The thought that was running through my mind over the course of the film is that this woman wants to dominate over a powerful Mother Nature.  By the end, you see real life clips of Diana Nyad insisting to audiences that no matter who you are or what age you’re at in life, nothing can defeat what you want to overcome.  As well, whatever you succeed at likely deserves enormous credit for the support team that accompanied you.  Often, I’m a naysayer of Diana’s mantra because I think I’ve chalked up at least five times more failures than successes in my life.  Still, here is the person who eventually proved me wrong.  I should also note that I learn from my failures and remain hopeful that it will lead to success.

I often tell myself never to argue with a woman. Well, at least now I know never to argue with Diana Nyad.  

THE ZONE OF INTEREST

By Marc S. Sanders

Rudolph Höss, and his wife Hedwig, have five children and they seem to live in peace and serenity within a beautiful home that contains plenty of bedroom space, sunlight, a vegetable garden, a pool to splash in and a babbling brook to fish and swim in.  You might say it is The Zone Of Interest that keeps their life so fulfilling.  Yet, beyond their pleasures is the Auschwitz concentration camp conveniently located next door for Rudolph to carry out his responsibilities as a Nazi Commandant. 

Jonathan Glazer writes and directs this quietly effective piece while breathlessly showing a flawed ignorance and apathy for the countless Jewish lives lost during the Holocaust.  The tactics Glazer uses in his film work on your senses first.  Following a long series of production company names that herald from America, England and Poland, the title of the movie appears in big white thin letters against a black screen.  Slowly over a long 3-4 minutes the letters fade as faint music and sound transition.  The music gets softer, as birds chirp and then there are faint gunshots in a distance.  A picture finally appears, and we see the Höss family basking under blue sky and sun while picking flowers alongside the brook.  It’s not even possible to identify the time or setting of this story yet.  Soon after, Rudolph (Christian Friedel) is stepping out of his home in his full-dress Nazi uniform on the morning of his birthday.  Hedwig (Sandra Hüller, Oscar nominated in Anatomy Of A Fall) and the children gift him a beautiful, freshly painted kayak.  Glazer then changes the position of his camera in the opposite direction and the towering wall of the concentration camp is just beyond the pretty stone walkway and front yard that leads out from the family cottage.  Black smoke billows from the smokestacks beyond the wall, and none of this is even remotely disturbing to the family. The pops of gunfire are heard beyond.

The Zone Of Interest does not focus on the suffering of the European Jews during the Holocaust. Jonathan Glazer’s script is wise enough to know his viewers are aware of what occurred even if the mass genocide seemed to have no imaginable end.  He never shows footage of activity inside the camp because this story is told through the eyes of a family who chose not to become aware or alarmed at that massive amount of death and torture that was happening.  The Holocaust was simply a way of life.

A sack is delivered to the Höss home which contains slips and nighties for Hedwig to rummage through for her use.  More interesting is a beautiful fur coat.  Hedwig tries it on for a personal fitting and looks upon herself in her bedroom mirror.  She finds a lipstick in the pocket.  Does she like the color?  She’ll have to see and draws it across her hand just like my wife and mother would do in a shopping mall.  All the while, the undisturbing (to Hedwig) next-door sounds continue on.

Miguel and I went to see this film together and had an extensive discussion afterwards.  To Miguel’s advantage, he had absolutely no idea what this film was about.  Didn’t know it was another Holocaust picture.  He didn’t know who directed it.  He didn’t know the cast.  I only knew that Jonathan Glazer wrote and directed, though I’m not as familiar with his work as Miguel is, and that it took place during the time of the Holocaust.  To observe my colleague’s surprise early on in the film gave me an interesting experience.  Miguel first witnessed the serenity and peace among the family, and then realized the sinister world that surrounds them and which they choose to be naïve towards.

The Höss family will have you believe they experience the same challenges that any ordinary family encounters.  Beyond what I have described, there are two other scenes that stay with me. 

Rudolph holds a meeting in his home. An architect/scientist is describing the effectiveness of a new model oven that will efficiently slaughter hundreds of Jews per day.  He provides well designed blueprints.  Rudolph asks for a closer estimation.  The architect says it is likely a thousand can be taken care of in one day.  Seems satisfactory.  Take a conversation like this out of the context of the picture and these men could just have easily been talking about an assembly line in a chocolate factory.

Another moment occurs between Rudolph and Hedwig.  The husband explains that because he’s been so good at his job, he’s been promoted to oversee the operations of all the concentration camps and therefore the family will have to relocate.  Hedwig is not happy about this as they have begun their new life here in their beautiful home (located next to Auschwitz).  The wife insists her husband speak to Hitler about this and request he reconsider.  Any of us would know it’s not that simple.  “Oh, excuse me Mr. Hitler…” Uh uh!  Would not work so easily. 

Jonathan Glazer demonstrates how simple dilemmas and pleasures that come with a happy home life can appear common.  Yet, in this case, should it? 

The Zone Of Interest may be a period piece.  Yet, what you witness when you watch this film is all too similar to what often occurs today.  The world has gotten smaller with information coming to us quickly by means of the internet that can update me on Middle Eastern wars or American immigration or the spread of white supremacy as quickly as developments take place.  However, I believe many still remain ignorant, often by choice, of what is presently happening.  Mass suffering and totalitarianism still runs easily and freely, but what remains important to us are the vast luxuries we treat ourselves to while hardly giving a care of what goes on outside our bedroom windows. Our toughest challenges are our inconveniences. 

I’m not chastising anyone, Reader.  We deserve our peace, our solitude, and our happiness.  The Höss family is something else altogether, though.  They live in prosperity right next to the worst way of living imaginable and the patriarch is primarily responsible for that experience.  Yet, as their comfort becomes so commonplace, the naivety only increases.  Their children grow only knowing that a train arrives on a frequent basis, with chimneys exhausting black smoke and there are distant pops on the other side of a brick wall.  It simply goes with splashing around in the garden pool or making mud pies on the edge of the brook.  The title of Glazer’s film serves the perspective of a family who are being raised not to know any better.

Miguel asked me where I would rank the picture.  At the time I gave it a middle grade.  It is a slow-moving piece.   It is not accompanied by a soundtrack of music to easily cue my emotions.  There are no big, momentous monologues.  I found the ending a little ambiguous but perhaps I was not concentrating enough, and Miguel had to explain something to me.  However, two days after watching the piece while also doing some background research on the film, it is worthy of a better grade than I originally gave it credit for while walking out of the theater.

Glazer will set up scenes where nothing happens for the longest time and then an eye opening and very uncommon discovery is made.  A particular moment happens while simply watching Rudolph waist deep in the river while fishing and wearing an SS t-shirt.  Again, out of context, this t-shirt could have been a Tampa Bay Buccaneers shirt.  There’s a disturbing comfort to moments like this before anything is revealed. 

The writer/director positions his camera like a documentarian.  There are no steady cams.  Often shots are from a far end of a hallway or outside a door frame simply to witness the commonplace activities of the family while the horrifying sounds of Auschwitz carry on in the near distance.  Miguel noticed a horizontal technique.  Glazer must have put his camera on a track to follow Hedwig as she walks off her property and marches parallel across the outside wall of the concentration camp.  She is undisturbed by anything happening on the other side of that brick structure laced with barbed wire at the top.

This is a disturbing piece that effectively shows a lack of care for suffering and horrific execution while a family attempts to live their best life and circumvent around common issues like job promotions or gardening or family time or valuing someone else’s belongings to accommodate them.  The Zone Of Interest is a haunting film and Jonathan Glazer has accomplished a tremendous feat, showing comfort just outside of a world of treachery and genocidal productivity.  This is a must watch film.

PS: My recommendation is to watch The Zone Of Interest without taking a break or taking a pause in the picture.  Watch it all the way through, unstopped.  I believe it is necessary to judge the film as a whole rather than in just parts.  As I reflect, it feels like one ongoing hour and forty minute scene.

ANATOMY OF A FALL

By Marc S. Sanders

Was Samuel Maleski pushed or did he commit suicide? It appears he fell from the balcony of the French chalet he shares with his wife Sandra Voyter (Sandra Hüller) and their blind son, Daniel (Milo Machado Graner).  That is the focus of Anatomy Of A Fall, one of the films to be recognized in several Oscar categories for 2023 including Best Picture, Best Director for Justine Triet, Screenplay, Editing and an acting nomination for Hüller.

Triet’s film kept my attention right from the start because this newsworthy story has all the elements many would look for in a Netflix documentary or a Dateline program.  New details are introduced in nearly every scene whether it stems from conversations that Sandra has with her attorney Vincent (Swann Arlaud) or as part of the witness interrogations during the thrilling trial scenes that take place a year after she has been indicted for causing her husband’s death.

Sandra is German.  Samuel (Samuel Theis) is French.  To stay on a common ground, they speak to one another in English.  We learn this as the film flashes back to conversations and arguments the pair have prior to the deadly scene that occurs soon after the film begins.  The inconsistency in how they communicate as a married couple will have one ponder how pertinent it is when Sandra is considered a prime suspect in her husband’s death.  Also, it’s curious that Samuel suddenly decided to record a number of their disputes.  More evidence is revealed as the story carries on.

On the surface, the story plays like a typical Law & Order episode.  However, there’s a fresh quality to this kind of supposed crime drama.  A large portion of Triet’s screenplay (co-written with Arthur Harari) takes place in a French courtroom and it’s interesting to see how the procedures of witness questioning varies from what American audiences are accustomed to.  For example, an expert on blood splatters gives testimony and conclusion. While he is still on the stand awaiting further questioning, the Procureur will divert questions directly at Sandra, the accused, for explanations. 

The material witness for both sides is Daniel. After returning from a nature walk with the dog, Snoop, he comes upon his deceased father lying in the snow with blood gushing from the side of his head.  The blind son is thoroughly questioned about if he could hear arguments coming from his parents while loud music was blasting from his father’s upper-level workspace.  He’s probed about his parent’s relationship and how he got along with his mother and his father respectively.  Daniel is also put to the test of reenactments on the day in question.  While he is outside with Snoop, could he hear the argument his parents were having over the loud volume of the music from 50 Cent playing.

A sort of competition between Sandra and Samuel is also noted, as she is a published author. He has been insecure of becoming a writer himself after giving up his job as a literature professor and moving the family into the mountains to restore this chalet as a personal project. 

The performances in Anatomy Of A Fall are outstanding, especially from its lead Sandra Hüller, whose role was specifically written with her in mind.  Of the many great dramatic moments, there’s a specific flashback scene introduced as evidentiary recording.  It is a telling argument between Sandra and Samuel in the kitchen.  Justine Triet directs this long scene as a common occurrence among most marriages but then it begins to elevate.  Just when you think the two spouses are winding down, the intensity cranks back up again only it goes from a lower pitch to a much more aggressive state very quickly.  Their quarrelling becomes erratic, and while we are watching the flashback, it cuts away the moment it gets physical. Triet wisely returns the film to the courtroom observing Sandra listening to her memory all over again while the packed audience focuses.  In particular is the boy Daniel who is learning more about what weighed on his father and mother both individually and as a married couple.  When the argument gets physical the viewer of the film is in the same position as everyone in the courtroom, or more specifically blind Daniel, left to only imagine who breaks what dish and who slaps who.

Vincent, Sandra’s attorney, reminds his client early on that there is the truth and then there is what a jury and a court of public opinion will believe.   Swann Arlaud is not an actor I’m familiar with.  (Actually, I’m not familiar with anyone involved in this film.)  Arlaud is a standout though.  I like how he listens and asks well timed questions of Sandra as she recounts what occurred the day of the incident; where Samuel was and what he was doing along with where she was, interviewing someone about one of her books, on the floor below.  Swann Arlaud has a dubious expression as he absorbs all the information.  Even he knows this could have gone several different ways.  Maybe Samuel did intentionally jump to kill himself.  Perhaps the aggravation that Sandra endured of her husband motivated her to push him over or to hit him bluntly on the head causing his fall over the balcony railing.  There’s evidence to suggest a number of different outcomes. 

Anatomy Of A Fall succeeds on the examination of a crime and how it is tried, particularly in a French court of law.  Fortunately, the script does not offer many definitive answers when it concludes.  There are hanging threads left to consider and wonder.  Yet, it goes in depth with analysis so that when the verdict arrives, I could accept either decision of guilt or innocent.  It’s unfair, but in a murder trial, especially if there’s a possibility that the accused is not guilty, then the victim is somewhat put on trial as well.  Anatomy Of A Fall lends a case for either party.  This film deserves its accolades for its fair and thought-provoking writing as well as the performances of the cast which include a main character that you might or might not find believable.