We waited all year for a US distributor to bite on William Monahan’s “London Boulevard,” but it never happened. FormDistrict was formed by the film’s producer, Graham King, last month and will be handling a release Stateside next year. Today a UK trailer hit as the film is opening there next month. It looks like a fun romp and boy does Ray Winstone seem like the perfect guy to rip through Monahan’s dialogue. Check out an embed after the jump.
Not my most successful day at the London Film Festival today, as a communication error kept me out of the fest’s final “Samson and Delilah” screening — vexing partly because it leaves a significant gap in the collective review I had planned to do of multiple foreign Oscar contenders next week, but more simply because it was one of my most anticipated films of the festival. Can’t win ’em all, I suppose.
Meanwhile, the Surprise Film screening, usually my favorite night of the festival, proved slightly anti-climactic for yours truly as the selection turned out to be Michael Moore’s “Capitalism: A Love Story” — a respectable enough choice on fest director Sandra Hebron’s part, but a film I’d already dug into at Venice. (Meanwhile, it marks the first time in four years that I hadn’t correctly anticipated the ‘surprise.’)
In keeping with the theme of the day, then, I thought this as good a time as any to briefly round up five of the fest’s more disappointing efforts so far.
1) Mac McHale
In a long line of wonderful secondary characters — Sallah, Marcus Brody, Henry Jones Sr., Short Round — screenwriter David Koepp, and whoever might have made their mark on the screenplay prior, manages to crank out a pointless, unbelievably benign individual who sits in the stomach of the film like a glass of out-dated milk. It’s all the more painful that director Steven Spielberg chose Ray Winstone to portray McHale, forcing the audience to watch a truly great actor suffer under the burden of an under-written throwaway.
2) The set pieces
Spielberg is a natural with creating exciting, edge-of-your-seat action numbers, yet he lends a bloated effect to the film in his desire to take everything to 11. They appear to have been filmed at a theme park — and with terrible, seam-revealing CGI to boot! Speaking of which…
3) The CGI
A shame throughout, making the already clumsy action scenes all the more sore on the eyes. This is a breach of religion, if you ask me, especially when one considers Spielberg’s view on these tools throughout the series. Thank God for saviors like Christopher Nolan, who believe in the practicality of filmMAKING.
One of the most artistically ruthless films to be produced in decades, “The Departed” is a spike of adrenaline straight to the heart of an audience desperately in need of such rambunctious filmmaking. A loose but paradoxically loyal remake of the Hong Kong thriller “Infernal Affairs,” the film is doused with a cast of familiar faces, each performer offering portrayals unique to anything in their respective repertoires.
The script, tuned down to deafening perfection by screenwriter William Monahan, is as frenetic as director Martin Scorsese’s visual vernacular. And the atmosphere, molded by Scorsese as if he were twenty years younger, is as saturating and penetrating as one could hope for out of a freewheeling, balls-to-the-wall entry in the cops and robbers genre.
This is truly one of the best films of the year.
Scorsese fell off his throne in the eyes of many when he began tackling epics like “Gangs of New York” and “The Aviator” in recent years. Some felt the fixture of 1970s cinema was chasing awards glory in earnest and therefore watering down his artistic capabilities.
Still, those films have much more to offer than most viewers allow, affording dense portraits of 19th century America and the unraveling world of Howard Hughes respectively. But it admittedly goes without saying the director hasn’t been near the top of his game in well over a decade, and the worry was he might be slowing down. With “The Departed,” that line of thinking flies right out the window.
The story is one of deception and lies, the hardships of undercover life and the effect such particulars have on a human being. The heights Michael Mann was aiming for in “Miami Vice” in this regard are cleared with considerable comfort by Scorsese’s effort.
Leonardo DiCaprio stars as William Costigan, a good kid from a working class family who hopes to make a difference in the Massachusetts State Police. But his superiors, Queenan (Martin Sheen) and Dignam (Mark Wahlberg), see through him immediately as just a kid playing the role of cop more so than living it.
Undercover work in the Irish mafia, however, might be something up his alley. After all, deception seems to be one of his outstanding qualities.
Colin Sullivan (Matt Damon), meanwhile, is a young buck who was introduced to organized crime at an early age. Presented as a surrogate son to Irish crime lord Frank Costello (Jack Nicholson), Sullivan also rises quickly through the ranks of the Boston Police Academy. He is soon positioned as Costello’s mole on the inside, greasing the rails for the mob boss to live his evil and criminal life as he sees fit, without recourse or precaution.
As the film pushes forward at an unforgivable pace, each respective mole becomes cognizant of the other’s existence. The drama therefore introduces itself in the form of a race against odds (and in the most hair-raising of environments) for each to discover the other before their rapidly evaporating time expires.
These are roles most actors spend a lifetime hoping to nail, but in “The Departed,” even the supporting elements are tough enough to chew and find significant flavor.
Alec Baldwin, for instance, continues to tap into a post-Kim Basinger era of confident, sleazy, yet somehow appealing portrayals as Ellerby, an officer in charge of the building case against Costello. Martin Sheen commands a father figure for DiCaprio’s Costigan with relative ease, while Mark Wahlberg sparks a curious foil to Sheen’s Queenan as a sharp-tongued Sergeant overseeing undercover operatives.
Vera Farmiga adds another delicate and layered performance this year (along with work in Anthony Minghella’s “Breaking and Entering”) as Madolyn, a department psychiatrist who becomes involved with both Costigan and Sullivan. And Ray Winstone fits comfortably into the mold as Costello’s right-hand man Mr. French.
But DiCaprio and Damon’s front-and-center portrayals are what the film hinges on.
Damon’s is a specific and moderately callous turn, one less merely villainous than it is antagonistic by necessity. DiCaprio’s performance as Costigan, meanwhile, might be his most accomplished to date, or at least closely rivaling his work in “The Aviator” two years ago.
An actor consistently relegated to the “pretty boy” column, DiCaprio proves time and again that he is a performer capable of reaching certain emotional depths that others in his generation can’t quite claim for themselves. And though both of these performances are showcases for each actor, it’s still not enough to steal the show.
If there is one thing audiences will be talking about regarding “The Departed” for years to come, it will be Jack Nicholson’s flagrant bloodlust and vicious insanity as Frank Costello.
Costello is the vilest of human occurrences, a truly despicable creature whose sole purpose in the world is to rail against the status quo and push his own boundaries as far as he can to get the maximum stretch out of life. As the character admits later on, “I haven’t needed the money since I took Archie’s milk money in the third grade. I haven’t needed p***y either, but I like it.”
Indeed, Costello is one of the true villains of the modern cinema, as morally filthy as he is fascinating. And Nicholson wallows in the role like he was born to wear it, savoring every feral gaze and relishing every blood-splattered grin. It might be his best work since “The Shining” 26 years ago, and a performance Academy voters are likely to eat right up like Ben Kingsely’s Don Logan in 2001’s “Sexy Beast.”
William Monahan’s erratic screenplay is enough to give anyone an anxiety attack, but Scorsese plays the thing like a fiddle. Utilizing a crew of usual suspects, the filmmaker finds the pulse of the tale in a hurry and never relents.
Thelma Schoonmaker deserves awards consideration for piecing together parallel narratives while still implementing the greatest of techniques scene after scene. Michael Ballhaus’s camera glides through each sequence and constructs time and space in a manner reminiscent of his work on “Goodfellas,” and most recently, Janusz Kaminski’s underappreciated efforts on Steven Spielberg’s “Munich.”
And I can only hope theaters across the globe crank the volume up to the level it was at in the screening room on the Warner Bros. lot, because the soundscape of the film is as much a character in the tale as Costigan, Sullivan or Costello.
But the real story of “The Departed” has to be Scorsese’s reclamation of his former relentless ways. This is an effort that fills out a trilogy of sorts with “Mean Streets” and “Goodfellas,” further securing the director’s status as the greatest of urban film artists.
What makes the accomplishment all the more appealing is the sense that Scorsese is a beast awakened, done with a slumber that appealed to some and still puzzled others. “The Departed” is crafted like he just recently discovered the medium of cinema and all its wondrous possibilities, fresh out of film school and desperate to express himself.
It’s energizing just thinking about it.
And, like the best of Scorsese cinema, I expect “The Departed” could be largely ignored by the awards season outside of performance respect and potential craft consideration. But it really doesn’t matter what happens to the film in the approaching Oscar derby, does it?
This is as hard boiled as filmmaking can get, and it proves a talented director still has more finesse and spirited determination than half the industry around him. So take note. An old dog can teach as many new tricks as he can learn.
Anthony Minghella’s “Breaking and Entering” is one of the most sincerely penetrating films of the year. It’s most unique quality is the sense of legroom it provides, a healthy stretch of a film with deep breaths and drawn out considerations, as opposed to the typical anxiety of temperamental manipulation (which all film tends to be by nature).
The film cannot be approached by the director’s past offerings, most of them over-reaching in their intentions and ultimately short of greatness as a result. “Breaking and Entering” is not a masterpiece, but it certainly treads such waters as an honest and tangible portrayal of mid-life confusion and crisis.
In the film, Jude Law stars as Will, a London architect and head of a somewhat unorthodox household. He lives with his girlfriend of ten years, Liv (Robin Wright Penn), yet they remain unmarried. The two are at that point in a relationship when the boredom of familiarity have finally given way to something else, something utterly lacking and altogether confusing.
Together, Will and Liv have raised Liv’s daughter, Beatrice (Poppy Rogers), a behaviorally dysfunctional teenager very representative of the trauma Will and Liv’s emotional schism has imposed on the family.
Will’s company has recently set up new office space in a seedy district of London. After receiving a large shipment of computer components, the office is burglarized one night by a team of acrobatic youngsters. One such child is Miro (Rafi Gavron), a Bosnian refugee living with his mother, Amira (Juliette Binoche).
Miro lost his father before fleeing his homeland, and his own story is not an unfamiliar one, one of longing and despair manifested in his getting himself into frequent trouble with the authorities. He now thieves for his dead father’s brother, perhaps to keep some sort of touch with his former, all but forgotten life.
Amira, meanwhile, is as sick with worry as one can imagine. Making ends meet as a seamstress, she frequently expresses disgust with Miro’s extracurricular choices, but overshadowing that disappointment is an unwavering love for her child.
Binoche’s more playful scenes with Gavron are the emotional center of the film, representative of a spirited devotion and affection that seems missing from Will’s life, and a sham if ever apparent therein.
After a series of such robberies, Will begins staking out the building with partner Sandy (Martin Freeman) and an inquisitive prostitute, Oana (a humorous and insightful Vera Farmiga). He finally catches Miro in the act one night, and in chasing him he follows the boy to his home. There Will encounters, from a distance, Amira and her concern for her son.
The moment is the beginning of an emotional whirlwind that will become increasingly confusing before clarity will be restored. Will ultimately engages in an affair with Amira, perhaps searching for love as he later will claim to Liv, but more likely discovering a void to fill, one he cannot seem to fill at home.
“Breaking and Entering” is an awakening experience. At its core, the film is about honesty. It is about being truthful to yourself, your needs, your desires, your love, your family and your impulses.
Will is a man turned around and without direction. His confusion is not his fault, nor is it his family’s. It is our very nature to search out our boundaries and our limitations. It is also our very nature to seek assurance in where we find ourselves.
In that light, “Breaking and Entering” has much in common with Todd Field’s “Little Children.” Both films speak to mid-life indecision and discomfort, and both films weave tales of lost souls finding their way back to their life roles.
Jude Law’s performance as Will might be the greatest performance of the year. It is a textured and nuanced turn that has a blistering emotional veracity.
I would perhaps go so far as to call it his best work to date, but his is still a resume bursting with diverse portrayals throughout. In “Breaking and Entering,” however, Law has tapped into the leading man potential he has only threatened in efforts such as “Cold Mountain” and the phenomenal “Closer.”
Juliette Binoche is appropriately self-aware and headstrong in her performance as Amira. Driven yet still full of the youth she had ripped from her through tragedy, Amira is an extremely interesting creation and a vibrantly unique character.
No one has carried across beautiful and tired so capably since Meryl Streep in “The Bridges of Madison County.” She also works quite beautifully off of the balanced anxiety and mother-love of Rafi Gavron’s performance.
Elsewhere, Ray Winstone turns in a cheeky performance as investigating CID officer Bruno, while Martin Freeman’s brief stint as Sandy is further proof he deserves more roles with meat on them. Poppy Rogers has some integral scenes as Beatrice, but if there is a weak link in the cast, it pains me to say it might be Robin Wright Penn.
Some may find her emotional recoil fitting and appropriate, but something about the performance feels as though the actress doesn’t fully understand her character. The work recalls Patrick Wilson’s ambivalence in “Little Children.”
The technical aspects of the film deserve accreditation of the highest order, most especially Gabriel Yared’s piano-infused original score and Benoît Delhomme’s subdued cinematography. Each element goes toward making the piece a truly unique experience, and certainly a unique Minghella experience.
“Breaking and Entering” really feels like Anthony Minghella’s most personal and convincingly sincere film yet. It boasts a lived-in quality making it feel like a story the writer/director has been playing over and over again in his head, perfecting every glance and sigh, tuning every emotional pitch to tonal superiority.
From an opening shot bleeding subtext and sporting an initial narration more enlightening than most, it is a film and, more importantly, a screenplay, that commands respect and appreciation. In a year exploding with accomplished filmmaking, “Breaking and Entering” fits right in.