Alexander Payne has clearly softened with age. His first two features, "Citizen Ruth" and "Election," were almost gleefully cynical affairs. His last two films, "Sideways" and "The Descendants," were much more humane, offering some hope for his irascible heroes. "Nebraska," his latest, splits the difference, featuring both the petty squabbles of a small-town community and the poignancy of a man in the twilight of life. It offers both humor and heart.
The heart of the film is Woody, a retired electrician. The best moments in "Nebraska" happen when Woody tersely reflects on his life. He's old enough to have plenty of regrets, but wise enough to know that they don't amount to much. When his son asks him if he wished he had been a farmer, he looks wistful and says, "I don't know. Doesn't matter."
Still, Woody can't quite let go of his dreams. Battling dementia, he's convinced that he's won a million dollars via a junk mail scam. He's determined to get from Montana to Nebraska to collect his prize even though he can't drive. By the third time he tried to walk there, I had a lump in my throat.
A film with nothing but this material would leave the audience in wrist-slitting mode. As usual, though, Payne can ably lighten the mood. Woody's wife is the primary comic engine here, getting off lots of cracks at family and friends--particularly those who think Woody's prize is real and want some of the action.
The last piece of the puzzle is the most conventional: Woody's son David starts learning more about his father. Naturally, it turns out that his gruff dad is a much nicer guy than he let on. But these scenes are so low-key that they don't feel forced or manipulative.
That's the thing about Payne: he works with stories fraught with emotion without turning them into melodramas. (Although "The Descendants" comes awfully close.) Often when I watch a film, I start worrying that the story is going to hit false notes to play on the audience's sympathy or desire for a feel-good ending. I was never worried about that during "Nebraska," and once again Payne validated my faith.
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Dallas Buyers Club
Not much happens in "Dallas Buyers Club." It's a boring movie.
It feels weird to say that. There are a lot of movies in which not much happens that I don't find boring at all. I love character studies, movies that focus on getting to know someone instead of plot mechanics.
But "Dallas Buyers Club" isn't interested in burrowing into the psyche of any of its characters. It's got an inspirational story to tell, and it's going to tell it, even if there isn't much to the tale.
The film is based on the life of Ron Woodroof, a hard living cowboy who was diagnosed with AIDS in 1985. Early on, the movie gets locked into a cycle: Woodroof finds some illegal medication that improves his condition, sells it to fellow patients, and gets shut down by the Food and Drug Administration. Then he finds some new medication--or new illegal means of transport--and the cycle starts all over again.
That cycle basically takes up the last three-quarters of the film. There's a little bit of other business; Woodroof is homophobic, so naturally he must see the error of his ways, and Jennifer Garner stars as a sad-looking doctor who is eventually converted to the cowboy's cause. It all just adds to the melodrama. Director Jean-Marc Vallee tries to make the story seem more edgy with handheld camerawork and quick editing. And Matthew McConaughey and Jared Leto both give fine, if occasionally showy, performances as AIDS patients.
And it must be said that this is yet another Hollywood tale of the privileged helping the powerless. American film history is littered with stories of whites helping blacks and straights helping gays. In real life, the privileged are usually the problem, not the solution.
It feels weird to say that. There are a lot of movies in which not much happens that I don't find boring at all. I love character studies, movies that focus on getting to know someone instead of plot mechanics.
But "Dallas Buyers Club" isn't interested in burrowing into the psyche of any of its characters. It's got an inspirational story to tell, and it's going to tell it, even if there isn't much to the tale.
The film is based on the life of Ron Woodroof, a hard living cowboy who was diagnosed with AIDS in 1985. Early on, the movie gets locked into a cycle: Woodroof finds some illegal medication that improves his condition, sells it to fellow patients, and gets shut down by the Food and Drug Administration. Then he finds some new medication--or new illegal means of transport--and the cycle starts all over again.
That cycle basically takes up the last three-quarters of the film. There's a little bit of other business; Woodroof is homophobic, so naturally he must see the error of his ways, and Jennifer Garner stars as a sad-looking doctor who is eventually converted to the cowboy's cause. It all just adds to the melodrama. Director Jean-Marc Vallee tries to make the story seem more edgy with handheld camerawork and quick editing. And Matthew McConaughey and Jared Leto both give fine, if occasionally showy, performances as AIDS patients.
And it must be said that this is yet another Hollywood tale of the privileged helping the powerless. American film history is littered with stories of whites helping blacks and straights helping gays. In real life, the privileged are usually the problem, not the solution.
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