Review: The Old Man And The Gun

Image courtesy of Fox Searchlight Pictures.

Robert Redford may be hanging up his iconic hat with David Lowery's "The Old Man and the Gun," which is said to be his last film as an actor, but the character he portrays in the picture - Forrest Tucker, a real-life criminal who, apparently, made 16 daring escapes over the course of his career and continued to rob banks well into his 70s - has no intention of doing so.

With his latest picture, Lowery again proves that he has range as a filmmaker (his previous output was "Ain't Them Bodies Saints," the remake of "Pete's Dragon" and "A Ghost Story"), creating a love letter to a movie legend with a film that uses some familiar cinematic tropes - the outlaw continuing to work long past his prime, a romance that complicates things, etc. - in service of Redford's most wily performance in some time.

When we meet Tucker, he is part of a gang that includes two other cohorts played by Danny Glover and Tom Waits, who gets some of the best lines in the film. As the film opens, Tucker is fleeing his latest robbery and he meets a woman named Jewel (Sissy Spacek), a widow who has no problem calling out Tucker on his bullshit. When he reveals to her his line of work, she thinks he's putting her on and he never exactly corrects her assumption. But when she finds a gun in his glove compartment, she doesn't seem terribly surprised.

Meanwhile, Tucker and his partners - who have been dubbed the Over-the-Hill Gang in the media during their latest spree, which takes place in 1981 in Texas and several neighboring states - are being pursued by a lawman named John Hunt (Casey Affleck), who wants to catch Tucker, but also has some respect for him. There's a great scene in which the two characters meet at a restaurant. Hunt knows who Tucker is, but the robber isn't quite sure that Hunt knows, and it reminded me of a kinder, gentler version of the meet-up between Pacino and De Niro in "Heat."

While the film is set in an earlier era, it also feels as if it were made in one (namely, the 1970s), from the older-looking film stock, to its folky soundtrack and editing style. In tipping his hat to his leading man, Lowery's film has the vibe of a picture that might have been made in Redford's heyday. It's both an enjoyable low-key crime drama and a subtle romance as well as a touching tribute to one of cinema's most iconic figures from the past half-century.

Review: Fahrenheit 11/9

Image courtesy of Briarcliff Entertainment.

With "Fahrenheit 11/9," Michael Moore takes on his easiest target to date - Donald Trump - and yet, the provocateur and filmmaker appears more interested in the dire state of the nation. In getting bogged down in too many topics to count, Moore's latest often feels unfocused and messy. However, when it hits its targets, the film is deeply unsettling and moving.

The film opens with an excruciatingly long prelude involving the 2016 election night - one I've tried to forget for the past two years - that includes a little more snark than is probably necessary. Following this, Moore lays the blame for Trump's ascension on everyone from Gwen Stefani (yes, it's a joke) and the media to the Democratic Party and himself - Moore is seen joking on a talk show with Trump and the premiere of his film "Sicko" was partially made possible by Jared Kushner and Steve Bannon.

In what is, perhaps, the film's most discouraging hot take, Moore lays more blame on the nation's first black president for the rise of Trump than the legions of voters who gleefully bought into his bashing of minorities, immigrants, women, the disabled and Muslims wholesale. He displays some facts and figures showing how the United States is, technically, a liberal nation (due to its support for gun control, gay marriage, equal pay for women, etc.), but appears to be of the naive notion that Trumpsters would have voted for Democratic socialism if, I don't know, they were read a few Noam Chomsky essays.

He also claims that voting won't save the United States from the rise of demagoguery, nor will Robert Mueller's investigation. He later touts all the progressives who are running for office across the country. His film is clearly a call to action, but to do what, since he seems to think that all hope is lost? Moore seems to have stored up more anger at the Democratic Party - and presents a not-so-realistic view of the importance of delegate roll calls at conventions - than Trump himself, despite later comparing him to Adolf Hitler.

Despite some quibbles, there's a fair amount to recommend in "Fahrenheit 11/9," which refers to the day after Trump's election. Among the most poignant segments is one dedicated to the teachers who took part in the statewide strike earlier this year, while the sequences involving the students of Parkland, Florida, who took leadership roles in gun control following a shooting at their school, are also powerful. Although its inclusion is a little clunky in terms of how it is edited in with the other narratives at play, one of the best segments in the film is the water crisis in Flint - which is Moore's home town - and the callous disregard by Michigan's governor in creating it, and then failing to address it.

As a member of the media, let me be the first to agree with Moore's assessment of the failure of the mainstream media - which rolled out the red carpet for Trump, due to his providing a ratings boom for media outlets - during the 2016 election. And there's a striking sequence late in the film in which Moore chronicles Hitler's rise against that of Trump, from attacks on the media to criticizing sports players (no joke).

So, while one might think that with America's current political climate and a president whose administration is characterized primarily by how out of control it is, Moore's latest would be among his sharpest polemics, "Fahrenheit 11/9" is made up of many moving parts (too many), of which some are especially effective, others miss their targets (or seemingly aim at the wrong ones) and several topics are squeezed in, but somewhat awkwardly. It's not one of the director's best films, but it is often emotionally engaging and enraging.

Review: The Sisters Brothers

Image courtesy of Annapurna Pictures.

Jacques Audiard foregoes heavy French dramas about damaged souls and criminals to make his English language debut with a revisionist western - "The Sisters Brothers" - that often leads you to believe it is venturing into comedic territory, only to veer into the darkness time and time again.

The film follows two narratives set in Oregon in the 1800s that eventually converge. In the first, the occasionally goofy and often violent titular duo - Charlie (Joaquin Phoenix, the violent, hard drinking brother) and Eli (John C. Reilly, the somewhat less violent and slightly more conscientious brother), both of whose last name is Sister - appear to be tracking someone amid the Gold Rush.

Elsewhere, a a fine-spoken man named Morris (Jake Gyllenhaal) befriends a prospector named Hermann Kemit Warm (Riz Ahmed), who has created a substance that illuminates gold in water. At first, the Sisters brothers want to kill Morris, whom they believe has betrayed them, but upon meeting up with him and Warm, they find the prospect of digging up gold more intriguing.

Audiard's film takes a while to get going. Its first half is a little sluggish and the repartee between Charlie and Eli borders is frequently comedic, often feeling as if it should be in another film other than the brutal, bloody one in which it exists. At one point, the duo shack up in a brothel, of sorts, and it is from there that the picture finds its feet.

While Phoenix does a solid job of portraying the loose cannon Charlie, it is Reilly who is the strongest presence in the film. There's a scene late in the movie in which he tells Warm, who has become an unlikely friend, of how he entered into a life of crime by making a sacrifice, of sorts. Reilly, who often plays more clownish characters, provides some of his most subtle dramatic work here since his sobering turn in "Magnolia."

While "The Sisters Brothers" doesn't rank with Audiard's best - such as "A Prophet" or "Dheepan" - it is an engaging western that starts from a place of humor, becomes increasingly brooding and violent and ends on a strangely poignant note. But mostly, it's a great showcase for its cast. The film might not carry the thematic weight of a revisionist western classic, such as "McCabe & Mrs. Miller," but it's a fun way to spend a few hours with some great actors.

Review: Mandy

Image courtesy of XYZ Films.

There aren't adequate words to describe Panos Cosmatos' "Mandy," a nutzoid horror-action-fantasy hybrid that takes place in the 1980s in a world that seems to exist only in movies from that era. The picture utilizes Nicolas Cage's particular brand of lunacy much to the same degree that Paul Thomas Anderson was able to channel Adam Sandler's persona successfully in "Punch Drunk Love'" This is a film that could best be described as a blend of such influences as David Lynch, Dario Argento, King Crimson (whose "Starless" graces the opening credits), H.P. Lovecraft and acid-trip movies of the 1970s.

In the film, Cage plays a man named Red, who lives in the wilderness circa 1983 with his wife, Mandy (Andrea Riseborough), a wide eyed woman with a haunted look who wears heavy metal T-shirts and reads horror novels. Their peaceful existence is interrupted by a roving cult known as the Children of the New Dawn, which is led by a charismatic and arrogant blabbermouth named Jeremiah Sand (Linus Roache). Sand wants Mandy for his own, so he ties up Red with barbed wire and makes his pitch - mostly in the nude - to Mandy after feeding her a mind-altering drug. After she laughs at him, he is enraged and Red is forced to observe a tragic ritual.

The second half of the film could best be described as an inspired Mad Max knockoff, that is, if Mad Max were a character in a mid-1980s Dio record. Cage visits a character played by Bill Duke, who supplies him with weapons, forges a massive sword out of a fire and hops into his muscle car, which flies down dark backroads as he pursues the cult. Sand is protected by a group of leather clad, spike wearing sadists - or, as Cage aptly puts it, "gnarly psychos" - who Red must combat first before he gets to the cult.

For those unaware of Cage's career trajectory, he went from an action movie star ("Con Air") and Oscar winning thespian ("Leaving Las Vegas") in the mid-1990s to early 2000s to a cult figure who, much like Christopher Walken, seemingly plays up his antic tics for maximum effect. In other words, it ain't a Nic Cage movie if there isn't some batshit crazy behavior on display. And, oh brother, is it on display here - most notably, during the culmination of an amazing sequence in which he fights the gnarly psychos in a living room where porn is playing on a TV and Cage indulges in some cocaine after finishing off one of his opponents in an over-the-top manner.

So, on the one hand, the antics here are hilarious, but Cosmatos - who was previously responsible for the visually ravishing "Beyond the Black Rainbow," which otherwise left me a little cold - does an excellent job of channeling Cage's insanity. There's also a meltdown scene for the ages involving a toilet and a bottle of Vodka. While Cage is unhinged in this film, it's also his best performance in some time.

"Mandy" might sound like a trashy B-rated movie, but its gorgeous visual setups and artistry elevate it beyond the level of exploitation filmmaking. Yes, the film is often silly, but it's equally as tragic, hypnotic, frightening and awe inspiring. For those seeking the next midnight movie phenomenon, look no further. "Mandy" offers up the goods in spades.

Review: White Boy Rick

Image courtesy of Columbia Pictures.

Yann Demange's "White Boy Rick" has some inspired soundtrack choices and does a decent job of capturing the aura and gritty look of 1980s-era Detroit, but it's otherwise a movie you've seen all too often - most recently, "Hot Summer Nights," another overly familiar retread of gangster movie cliches that featured a teenage boy as its lead.

"White Boy Rick" does the same thing - but, of course, it's based on a true story, and a rather compelling one at that. And yet, the film follows the typical beats of a picture of this type: young, naive kid gets involved in criminal activity, is lured by the power and money that come with it (although Rick is inspired more by keeping his dysfunctional family afloat than greed) and eventually faces a downfall.

Richard Wershe Jr. (newcomer Richie Merritt, whose performance betrays a sort of innocence that varies in its effectiveness) was, according to this film, at one point the longest-held nonviolent offender in Michigan's history. At age 17, he was sentenced to life - although he was finally released last year - for possessing a large amount of cocaine. Apparently, his drug selling gig first started at age 15 when the FBI approached him and forced him to do so to bring down lower level drug dealers after Rick's hoodlum father (Matthew McConaughey, clearly having fun here) gets busted for illegally selling weapons and the bureau is able to effectively blackmail him.

Rick makes his mark in the drug game and befriends a local crew in which he is the only white boy, hence the titular nickname. There's a fairly shocking sequence halfway through the film in which one of his friends attempts to take him out. There's also a fair amount of squirming to be had during the sequences - which are among the film's most effective - involving Rick's drugged out sister (Bel Powley), who McConaughey's paterfamilias repeatedly fails to lure back to the family's ramshackle home in Detroit.

There's something to be said for a theme that pops up several times during the picture in which Rick's black friends make reference to the fact that if they were busted for the same crimes he has committed, they would not have access to the same leniency that he might get. Then, he gets locked away for life, and it seems unclear what the purpose of including those earlier scenes meant to convey.

All in all, "White Boy Rick" is occasionally entertaining and is based on a fairly engrossing story. It's just that its filmmakers have utilized an overused narrative paradigm here that fails to differentiate it from so many other films - "Hot Summer Nights," "Blow," you get the picture - that have covered similar ground. In other words, there could have been a better film here, especially considering that its director was responsible for the tense "'71." Ultimately, it comes off as the crime movie of the week.

Review: The Nun

Image courtesy of Warner Bros.

During her brief appearances in previous "Conjuring" films, the titular villain of this picture made for a creepy presence. In a particularly unnerving moment from one of those films, a young boy points down a hallway and asks Vera Farmiga's character about a figure standing in a hallway. It's one of those moments that might make you jump out of your seat.

In the film "The Nun," which was directed by Corin Hardy, the filmmakers try to recreate that vibe - over and over again - but with little traction. Not only is this film not particularly scary - that is, unless you're unsettled by irritating jump scares - but it also utilizes the same setup continually. And the thing is, that setup is a lazy one to begin with, so the most horrifying moment in the picture occurs when you look at your watch and realize you're not even halfway through.

The picture opens with a young nun taking her life by hanging herself, seemingly to prevent from becoming a vessel for a sinister being who is, you guessed it, dressed up like a nun. A priest (Demian Bechir) and novitiate (Taissa Farmiga) who has visions travel to Romania to visit the abbey where the suicide took place, and attempt to solve the mystery of the nun's death. They are accompanied by a randy Frenchman (Jonas Bloquet), who had discovered the body.

Upon arriving at the abbey, the characters are attacked in graveyards by malevolent spirits, have visions of evil and spot numerous figures dressed as nuns who might, in fact, be evil beings. The filmmakers have two basic scare tactics in their wheelhouse: the jump scare (for instance, that scene from the preview in which Farmiga's character is being followed down a hallway by a nun and then accosted by another out of the blue) and sequences in which figures - whose faces are obscured by shadow - stand still long enough for the film's heroes to approach them and get up close, so they can suddenly snarl or show themselves to be corpses.

In other words, "The Nun" is cheesier than it is scary. I'll give the filmmakers credit where it's due - the locations are genuinely spooky and there are a few scenes from previous "Conjuring" movies that are spliced in here to give some context and set the stage for this story. But you know that you've run out of ideas before you've even started when some of the redeeming moments in a picture involve borrowed footage from other movies.

James Wan's first two "Conjuring" movies are pretty frightening and display filmmaking mastery. The "Annabelle" sequels have their moments - that spooky Manson-like opening to the first film - but are otherwise a step down from their predecessor and, this picture is a step down from those sequels. "The Nun" is lacking in motivation and, for the most part, scares. There have been a number of good horror movies as of late and, in comparison, this one feels slightly creaky.

Review: The Little Stranger

Image courtesy of Focus Features.

Lenny Abrahamson's "The Little Stranger" is an elegant and occasionally creepy, but often cold to the touch, gothic thriller that takes a little too long to get where it's going. Although the film is technically a ghost story, it is often more interesting when it is examining the British class system in the early 20th century.

At the film's center is a rural doctor named Faraday (Domhnall Gleeson), who has been hired by a very rich family in a sprawling mansion that the doctor himself had visited as a boy. The house clearly left a huge impression on young Faraday, who recalls being at a celebration on its grounds, and he is quickly drawn in by the home and its family following a house call he is making to tend to Roderick Ayres (Will Poulter), a young man brutally scarred by World War I.

At first, Roderick's behavior might lead one to think that he has psychological problems to match the horrific scars on his face, body and legs. But as it turns out, something is haunting Roderick and, eventually, all of the Ayres, which include frosty matriarch Mrs. Ayres (Charlotte Rampling) and daughter Caroline (Ruth Wilson), with whom Faraday strikes up a friendship that eventually turns into something else.

We are shown a pivotal flashback scene in which young Faraday was spotted by a young Ayres girl, who is now dead, as he broke off a piece of the home's banister and kept it for himself. His mother, who was also taken with the house and worked in it as a servant, spots her son and strikes him across the face. All those years ago, Faraday and his mother were envious of the Ayres, and the doctor has ever since wanted to fit in with their society.

Other bizarre occurrences take place - a young girl is mauled by a dog and Rampling's character begins to be tormented by some type of force. There's a particularly creepy sequence during which she thinks she hears noises in an empty room, and then becomes locked in as the doors violently shake. There's a twist, of sorts, at the end that sort of explains what is going on here, although one's interpretation might vary with one's imagination.

But ultimately, this is a subtle haunted house movie that is more interested in exploring issues relating to class. There are some interesting concepts at play regarding this theme, but "The Little Stranger" creeps along at an unhurried pace to get there, occasionally to its detriment. This is the type of film in which I can admire the craft and performances - especially Gleeson as the tightly wound doctor - even if the end result is a mixed bag.