Author: Joe Bendel

By Joe Bendel. Quality musical instruments are expensive, even for middle class professionals in Riga. That is one reason Raimonds Krasts is reluctant to tell his perennially stressed out OBGYN mother he lost his saxophone, particularly since it happened during a bit of misdemeanor mischief. Each lie and evasion only makes matters worse for Krasts in Jānis Nords’ Mother, I Love You, a Dostoyevskian middle school morality play that screens as part of the 2014 Palm Springs International Film Festival’s focus on official Academy Award submissions for best foreign language film.

There is already tension between Krasts and his single mother, Silvia Krasta. She has been secretly dating a colleague while supposedly working the late shift. Frankly, it is unclear how Krasts feels about this, but there is no question Krasta is displeased with his behavioral issues at school. She is also none too thrilled about his friend from the wrong side of the tracks, Peteris Cepurnieks. The son of a cleaning lady, Cepurnieks has swiped his mother’s key to a dodgy playboy’s often vacant apartment, where they often hang out and steal pocket money.

When things get particularly heated at home, Krasts runs off to the bachelor pad, but cuts short his stay when the owner arrives with a prostitute. Unfortunately, the woman in question filches his saxophone along with several other portable items from the flat. Predictably, his attempts to retrieve it lead to even more serious problems, because Krasts is still just a kid—one with particularly bad judgment.

Even though MILY did not make the Academy’s nine film short list, it was a smart choice for Latvia. As the winner of the Jury Award at this year’s LA Film Festival, it would have had more credibility and perhaps recognition among left coast Academy members than the average submission. Nords’ brand of sensitive naturalism is also perfectly compatible with Academy tastes and preferences. Evidently it was not to be, but it is still an accomplished film. The work of cinematographer Tobias Datum is particularly noteworthy for the way it captures the moody elegance and loneliness of late night Riga.

Front-and-center throughout the film, thirteen year old lead-actor Kristofers Konovalovs holds up to the scrutiny remarkably well. As problematic as Krasts might be, he never comes across as a caricature. Instead, we can understand why he makes each compounding mistake. Never overly showy, he could teach a thing or two to some of this year’s supposed Oscar contenders.

Likewise, the performance of Vita Varpina (one of two established screen actors in MILY) is smartly balanced and acutely believable. Haralds Barzdins, the real life conductor for the Latvian Song and Dance Festival adds some color as Krasts’ band director, but it is debatable whether the film will do much to spur youthful enthusiasm for orchestral music.

There is indeed a lot of messy humanity in MILY. Everyone makes mistakes, but nobody is irredeemable. It should be interesting for festival patrons to watch the film in close dialogue with Kang Yi-kwan’s somewhat thematically related Juvenile Offender. Nords never takes the easy way out, yet his film is still considerably more optimistic. Small but potent, Mother, I Love You is recommended for those who appreciate coming-of-age character studies. It screens this coming Sunday (1/5), Monday (1/6), and the following Saturday (1/11) during the 2014 Palm Springs International Film Festival.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on January 2nd, 2014 at 11:03pm.

By Joe Bendel. The original Broadway production of Tracy Letts’ August: Osage County dominated the Tonys, netting best play, best lead actress for Deanna Dunagan, best featured actress for Rondi Reed, best director for Anna D. Shapiro, and another lead actress nomination for Amy Morton. Aside from Letts adapting his play for the screen, none of the Tony winners would reprise their roles in the movie version. Instead, it was clearly conceived as an Oscar vehicle for a number of formerly popular stars. Prepare for a lot of yelling and drawling when the John Wells helmed August: Osage County opens today in New York.

Pill-popping Violet Weston was a terrible mother to her grown children and remains a thoroughly rotten human being in her twilight years. Even the onset of mouth cancer has not moderated her nasty temperament. It seems she finally drove her beloved and despised husband Beverly to suicide, but the ambiguous circumstances leave some room for denial. After his funeral, the extended family gathers for a memorial dinner. The main course will be recriminations, followed by bile for desert.

Like it or not, everyone is there. Ivy is the mousey daughter who never got out from under Mother Weston’s thumb. Karen is the family’s Blanche Dubois, who has brought along her next prospective sugar daddy hubby. Barbara Weston is the only daughter Violet ever respected, because she has some backbone and attitude. Unfortunately, her relations are currently strained with her unfaithful husband and their moody tweener daughter. As if that were not enough, Weston’s sister Mattie Fae Aiken (sort of a Violet-lite) will also be in attendance, along with her laidback husband Charlie, and their awkward son Little Charles, upon whom she constantly rains down emotional abuse. The cooking and serving will be done by Johnna Monevata, the Native American domestic Beverly hired shortly before his misadventure. If a fire broke out in the house, she would be the only one you would save.

As the film starts, Sam Shepard’s wonderfully understated near-cameo as Beverly Weston suggests we are in for an acting showcase. Then Meryl Streep shuffles in, like Dwight Frye in a Dracula movie and all hope of subtlety is thrown out the window. Seriously, there has to be a chapter of Overactors Anonymous in Hollywood. Admitting there is a problem is always the first step (I’ve heard there are eleven more after that), but it’s never going to happen until critics and guilds stop hyping every Streep performance just because they’re supposed to. There are times you think Streep will end a scene by loudly proclaiming “Acting!” like Jon Lovitz’s thespian character on Saturday Night Live. The way she masticates the furniture will give audiences indigestion.

Her more-is-never-enough approach sort of works during the big dinner time smackdown. However, Julia Roberts deserves credit for hanging with her without going wildly over the top. Frankly, it looks like she is manhandling Streep for real at one point, which provides a degree of viewer satisfaction. When Roberts and Streep go at it, the movie starts to click. Unfortunately, this natural peak comes about midway through the film. Every predictable family revelation that follows feels like a letdown.

Still, Roberts’ work is consistently strong throughout the film. She also has some fine support from Chris Cooper, Julianne Nicholson, and Misty Upham as Big Charlie, Ivy Weston, and Johnnna Monevata, respectively. It is worth noting that these are quieter, more reflective and nuanced turns. In contrast, Benedict Cumberbatch proves sometimes less really is less, disappearing into the background as poor put-upon Little Charles.

When you see the film version of Osage, it is easy to understand why it was successful on-stage. Perhaps Streep’s unrestrained performance would work better in that venue, if you were hard of hearing and sitting in the back row of the balcony. On film, it is destined to rank alongside Faye Dunaway’s Joan Crawford in Mommie Dearest. (Violet probably doesn’t dig wire hangers, either.) There is a lot of good work in the film version, but ultimately it is structurally unbalanced and fatally overwhelmed by its excess Streepness. Only satisfying for diehard Roberts fans, August: Osage County opens today (12/27) in New York at the Loews Lincoln Square and the Regal Union Square.

LFM GRADE: C-

Posted on December 27th, 2013 at 11:25pm.

By Joe Bendel. Her actress-sister Frances eventually became Anthony Trollope’s sister-in-law. For her part, Ellen Ternan had a much closer relationship with Charles Dickens, but she was infamously not his wife. Ralph Fiennes brings their not-so-secret affair to the screen as the director and star of The Invisible Woman, which opened yesterday in New York.

Dickens was a genuine literary celebrity—the Stephen King of his era. He even wrote serialized novels, too. Dickens also had ten children from his plain, unassuming wife, Catherine. As the Dickenses grow increasingly distant, it is not terribly surprising the novelist will eventually succumb to temptation with one of his many admirers. That will be Ellen “Nelly” Ternan.

By all accounts, Ternan was a middling actress at best, but she still caught Dickens’ eye in a production of The Frozen Deep, his quasi-collaboration with Wilkie Collins. Dickens quickly becomes a patron to the Ternan family, including her mother and two sisters, all of whom are considered better thespians than Ellen. Of course, Mrs. Ternan is no fool, but she understands the limits of her daughter’s options.

Nevertheless, this is still Victorian England, when scandal meant something. To play the part of Dickens’ mistress, Ternan will have to assume the titular invisibility. Even if she wanted to, she is incapable of flaunting social norms, like Collins and his lover. Regardless, the truth is bound to come out sooner or later, or else Fiennes’ film would never exist.

So here it is, somewhat more preoccupied with societal conventions and class distinctions than a typical installment of PBS’s Masterpiece, but not too very far removed stylistically. It is hardly an apology for Dickens, but Fiennes’ lead performance is easily the best thing going for it. He rather brilliantly expresses the passion and recklessness lurking beneath his almost painful reserve. Unfortunately, it is sort of like watching one hand clap during his scenes with Felicity Jones’ Ternan. When Fiennes is quietly intense, she is just quiet.

Frankly, Invisible must stack the deck against Dickens’ poor, anti-trophy wife to sell his attraction to the pale, mousy Ternan. Maybe we just don’t get Jones here, but it seems like most red blooded scribblers would be more interested in Kristin Scott Thomas’s elegant and sultry Mrs. Ternan. Regardless, Joanna Scanlon’s performance subverts the intended sabotage of her character, investing the real Mrs. Dickens with excruciating dignity and humility.

Certainly presentable by general British costume drama standards, The Invisible Woman is more distinguished by Fiennes’ turn as an actor than a director. There is also plenty of fine work from Thomas, Scanlon, and Tom Hollander as Collins, but the central chemistry is lacking. Recommended mostly just for voracious Victorian readers, it opened Christmas Day in New York at the Angelika Film Center.

LFM GRADE: C+

Posted on December 26th, 2013 at 2:02pm.