David Oyelowo

A Most Violent Year

The 80s were an interesting time. If you ask people what they most remember about the decadent decade, they will probably mention Reagan, inflation, the dawn of MTV, or defining moments in American culture like the Challenger explosion, Reagan’s assassination attempt, or the Iran Contra scandal. The 80s were also a violent time, even before the crack epidemic created a new class of criminal. The early 80s were especially dangerous in major cities like New York, with 1981 being one of the most violent years on record, at the time. Writer/director J.C. Chandor (All Is Lost) explores this tumultuous period in his atmospheric film A Most Violent Year, starring Oscar Isaac (Inside Lewyn Davis) and Jessica Chastain (Interstellar).

Isaac stars as Abel Morales, the bootstrapping, self-made owner of a profitable heating and oil company. He’s looking to expand his business, attempting to broker a real estate deal with some powerful Jewish members of the community that will grant him direct access to the city’s ports. Things get complicated when his oil truck drivers begin getting carjacked and Abel loses one truck after the other. The thieves’ brazen lawlessness leaves Abel’s drivers vulnerable and threatens his real estate venture. Rather than arm his drivers with guns to defend themselves, Abel tries to quietly investigate – much to the chagrin of his fiery wife Anna (Chastain). Chandor hints throughout the movie that Abel is involved in some shady business dealings, and this seed is planted further when a district attorney named Lawrence (David Oyelowo, Selma) threatens indictment for a slew of offenses ranging from fraud to bribery. The course of the film follows Abel as he tries to find the culprit behind the robberies and stave off indictment while preserving his real estate negotiations.

A Most Violent Year seemed promising based on its trailer and cast, namely Oyelowo and Chastain. Featuring the soulful sounds of Marvin Gaye’s classic “Inner City Blues,” the trailer hinted at a gritty, atmospheric tale, and that same earthy melody played over the opening credits. What song better captures the harsh realities of an unforgiving metropolis? However, despite its moody cinematography and intriguing premise, there were parts of the film that just didn’t excite me. The film smoldered throughout, but it never ignited in the way I thought it would. For example, Abel seemed to bury his head in the sand in the wake of the truck robberies. How is it believable that someone so seemingly passive in one facet of his life could be so shrewd and ambitious in other aspects? I understand wanting to leave a certain lifestyle behind, but how did you ascend to current heights if you never stood up for yourself? In a way, the film never lived up to its provocative title.

Another thing I disliked about the film was the disjointed nature of certain scenes within the context of the larger plot. When Abel finally finds out who is behind the truck heists the revelation is very unsatisfying and just doesn’t make sense, in my opinion. It simply doesn’t fit with the picture Chandor painted earlier in the movie. For some reason (and maybe this is my fault), I thought the movie would be in the vein of Carlito’s Way, but it wasn’t nearly as exciting. I’m not saying a movie has to resort to cheap thrills to hold my attention – but I was rather underwhelmed. However, the aforementioned criticism must be balanced by the positive aspects, which should not be understated. First, the cinematography was excellent. The movie looked like 1981 in every way; it looked like it came out of a vault. The sepia undertones were haunting and almost beautiful. The tone of the film was perfect, and it was superbly acted. For those reasons, I can’t say it was a bad film. It just wasn’t what I expected. Grade: B

Selma

I can’t begin to know the struggle of a filmmaker. I’m only attempting to be a screenwriter and thus far have found the process very challenging. It must be difficult to craft a film from start to finish, finding a way to hold the viewer’s attention while delivering a compelling a story. Now imagine how much more demanding your task would be if your film centered on a heroic, legendary fixture in American and global history. Such was the task before director Ava DuVernay in her depiction of Martin Luther King, Jr.

Selma isn’t the first film about Martin Luther King, but it does offer a unique perspective behind the man and the movement. Rather than craft a comprehensive biopic spanning his lifetime, DuVernay focused on an all-important slice of his life, the pivotal time in which he spearheaded passage of the 1965 Voting Rights Act. By narrowing the scope, DuVernay provided a fresh insight that hadn’t been previously offered. Moreover, she captured a more personal, intimate side of a larger than life public figure. Given the recent spate of incidents of police brutality against young Black men, the timeliness of the film cannot be overstated, and one couldn’t help notice the parallel between the scenes of civil unrest and protest in the movie and recent images in the news. Moreover, with more and more states enacting local laws restricting the right to vote, Selma rings true today.

The film begins powerfully, first highlighting the absurdly unjust hurdles Black Americans were forced to overcome in order to vote. DuVernay then left the viewer with no doubt about the racial climate by depicting the infamous bombing of four little girls in a Birmingham church. For younger viewers these images may have been jarring, as I can’t assume what people do and don’t know about their history. And when I say “their” history, I mean all young people, regardless of race – because Selma is a portrayal of events in American history, not just Black history.

DuVernay juxtaposed the historical accuracies with a uniquely intimate dramatization of King’s personal life. We’re introduced to him not at the pulpit delivering a fiery speech, but rather in a warm, private moment with his wife Coretta. As he prepares to accept the Nobel Prize for peace, he complains to Coretta about his ostentatious attire. She soothingly reassures him, as only a wife can. Small touches like this may go unnoticed amidst the more powerful, violent images that punctuate the film – but I was struck by the manner in which DuVernay made the legend more accessible.

The film operates within the strategic confines of King’s calculated plan for Selma. His aim was to focus on Selma and protests there so that he could bring national attention to the violent and unconstitutional manner in which Blacks were being denied their right to vote. Then-President Johnson was politically reticent about sweeping change, so King had to apply pressure by keeping the violent images plastered on the front page of the newspapers that littered America’s collective doorstep. His plan was effective, and ultimately Johnson enacted the single most significant piece of legislation of the Civil Rights Movement.

Selma humanized King in a way that brought him down one step from his pedestal without besmirching his legacy. We see that he was a man, with fears and flaws. He and Coretta had problems like any married couple. He had moments of doubt and insecurity, yet he was brilliant in his strategy to the point of shrewdness. I didn’t feel like the movie deified him, though the glorious nature of his character was undeniable. That is due in large part to the gravitas David Oyelowo (Interstellar) brought to the role, though the Academy has overlooked his contribution this year. Both he and Carmen Ejogo (The Purge: Anarchy) were mesmerizing on screen, coloring their scenes with restrained chemistry.

The subject matter alone would make this film a must-see, but it’s technically sound as well. The cinematography and storytelling were nearly perfect, and performances from the likes of Tom Wilkinson (The Grand Budapest Hotel), Tim Roth (Arbitrage) and Oprah Winfrey (The Butler) in a brief but powerful cameo only strengthened the final product. If you weren’t well versed on the history of the Voting Rights Act or Civil Rights Movement then obviously this movie is one you should see. If you were, it’s a reminder of how far we’ve come, although we still have some work ahead of us. Grade: A

Lee Daniels’ The Butler

I like what I like, and just because the critics have lauded your work, or it’s popular – that doesn’t mean I will be inclined to join the herd.  Some of director Lee Daniels’ filmography includes movies that I don’t prefer.  That’s no knock on his filmmaking, but rather a commentary on his subject matter. I’ve seen Monster’s Ball, which he produced, and I thought it was an excellent film.  It could not be described as a “feel good” movie, however.  I don’t typically enjoy “heavy” movies that settle over the viewer and linger long after the credits have rolled.  For this reason, I avoided Daniels’ Precious, though I understand that it was a powerful film.  With The Butler, he has decided to do that annoying Tyler Perry thing where he makes sure that his name precedes the movie title,* but I’ll overlook it – because The Butler is quite simply a tour-de-force contribution to contemporary American cinema.  It deserves immediate consideration alongside other American classics with the manner in which it interwove American history seamlessly with wonderful dramatization.  This is arguably the best movie of the summer, and a must-see film.

The Butler is loosely based on the life of Eugene Allen, an African-American butler who served in the White House for 34 years, which is my entire lifetime.  Forest Whitaker (The Last Stand) stars as Cecil Gaines, a fictional version of the titular character inspired by Allen.  The art of being a butler, particularly one at the White House, requires a certain temperament and character.  The movie begins by depicting the circumstances that shaped Cecil’s life and developed his character.  He grew up on a cotton farm in the South, where his father (David Banner, This Christmas) worked as a sharecropper.  Although slavery was long over, the power dynamic remained unchanged in many Southern states.  At an early age, Cecil learned that resistance against the status quo might cost you your life.  As meager compensation for a family tragedy that he witnessed, Cecil was brought in from the field into the house, where he would be trained as a “house nigger,” cultivating a strict attention to detail that would serve him well in his life’s work.

Cecil eventually left the cotton farm and found work as a servant, working under the tutelage of an elder butler (Clarence Williams III, American Gangster) who further refined Cecil’s skillset.  He explained to Cecil that there is one face that you show Whites, and there is your true face that you show everyone else.  I was conflicted in my perception of Cecil’s work at various times throughout the movie.  On the one hand I was put off by the inherent subservience of his tasks, particularly the necessity with which he faded into the background, as if the notice of his mere presence would be an affront to his employer.  On the other hand, there is a quiet dignity in the position, and the attention to detail indicated an impressive work ethic.

Eventually Cecil’s impeccable job performance landed him a position at a posh Washington hotel, which is where a White House employee was so impressed that he notified Cecil when a service position became available at the White House.  Cecil began working at the White House during the Eisenhower Administration and would come to know each President’s eccentricities and disposition.

The film chronicles Cecil’s tenure at the White House as America evolves over the decades and through the various Administrations.  Initially his wife Gloria (Oprah Winfrey, Beloved) is pleased with Cecil’s esteemed new position, which affords him the ability to be sole provider for his family.  However, she eventually begins to feel neglected as he spends more time away from home, enraptured with his job.  He becomes fast friends with fellow employees Carter Wilson (Cuba Gooding Jr., Red Tails) and James Holloway (Lenny Kravitz, The Hunger Games).  Gooding turned in a scene-stealing performance as the crudely affable Carter, while Kravitz added quiet gravitas to his slight role.  The film was rife with notable actors, which I will address later.

The Butler’s strength lies in its artful juxtaposition of Cecil’s life at the White House with the social upheaval of the 50s, 60s and 70s.  While Cecil worked daily in a sterile, sanitized environment, America raged beyond the White House walls, careening to and fro down an historical path.  Cecil’s eldest son Louis (David Oyelowo, Jack Reacher) was at the forefront of these tumultuous times, participating actively in the Civil Rights and Black Power Movements.  One of the more effective scenes in the movie depicted this juxtaposition perfectly, expertly highlighting the divide between father and son.  While Cecil meticulously sets banquet tables for a State Dinner, Louis and his classmates participate in a sit-in, where they are abused and taunted by White patrons.  As the father serves his country literally through servitude, his son rails against his country through active (though peaceful) resistance.  It is not until much later that father and son realize that they are not so different after all.

The Butler is an authentically American movie.  It should be mandatory viewing for anyone who wants a brief synopsis of a critical time period in American history.  Viewers who lived through the Civil Rights Movement and Vietnam War will recall those difficult times, and younger viewers may be startled at a glimpse into an America that is far different from the land we now call home.  Actual events from history were dramatized in startling fashion, and the fear that characters experienced was always underscored by the jarring reality that this in fact did happen.  There was a scene where Louis and his girlfriend Carol (Yaya Alafia, The Kids Are All Right) rode a bus on a “Freedom Ride” through the segregated South.  Their bus was stopped, and a racist mob descended upon them.  Their fear was palpable, and there were factual touches interspersed with the dramatization.  This is a testament to Daniels’ deft hand, and a slew of Oscar nominations should be forthcoming.

The performances in this film were amazing, as the cast includes a virtual who’s who of names, from Robin Williams (The Big Wedding) as Dwight Eisenhower to Jane Fonda (The Newsroom) as Nancy Reagan.  Cecil’s relationship with each president was unique, though he may have been partial to JFK (James Marsden, 2 Guns) due to his influential civil rights legislation and the fact that he brought a unique family dynamic to the White House with his youth and small children who brightened up the place.  The only President for which I noted a hint of disdain was old “Tricky” Dick Nixon, ably though briefly portrayed by John Cusack (The Frozen Ground).  Many characters were important figures in American history (past presidents and cultural icons), but were only minor pieces of the movie, like Martin Luther King, for example.  It is a testament to the film that so many wonderful actors played such small roles.  The film is weighty and substantial in every respect, from casting to direction.  Forest Whitaker embodied Cecil Gaines’ quiet strength, and his servitude belied an understated courage.  Whitaker gave the performance of a lifetime, and he should be in contention for another Academy Award.  Actually, you could tell me that any one of this prolific cast was in consideration for an Academy Award, and I would deem them worthy.

I loathe long-winded reviews, but how could I cut this short? It was a sweeping film that covered an expansive time period in American history, and I wouldn’t do the film justice if I didn’t address the more compelling aspects of the storyline and the attendant performances.  Some movies simply must be seen.  The Color Purple and Forrest Gump come to mind for some reason.  Even if you aren’t crazy about either of those movies – they had to be seen.  Similarly, The Butler is required viewing. Grade: A+

*After writing this review, it came to my attention that Daniels and the movie studio had legal reasons for titling the movie this way, so my comparison to Tyler Perry wasn’t warranted. Still funny though!

Jack Reacher

Sometimes it’s hard for me to separate the artist from the work.  If I dislike the way an actor conducts themselves outside of their movies, I don’t really look at their movies the same way, if at all.  Clint Eastwood pisses me off now.  I think he’s an ornery old cracker.  His movies are dope, but I just don’t rock with him like that.  Which brings me to Tom Cruise (Rock of Ages), my old favorite up until recently.  I have always liked Cruise, the venerable star whose movies were sure blockbusters.  And then he started to seem like a kooky scientologist.  Granted, I never heard of him doing anything really bad; he just seemed kind of weird.  But dammit, I couldn’t completely give up on him.  I liked him in the last Mission Impossible movie, because he’s still a great action star.  He’s charismatic and capable and seems like he performs his own stunts.  I’m sold on him in these types of roles, so when I saw the trailer for Jack Reacher, it looked worth checking out.

Cruise stars as Jack Reacher, a military investigator who is “off the grid.”  He served honorably, receiving numerous medals of distinction.  He hasn’t been definitively heard from or seen in a couple of years, and only resurfaces after being requested by a domestic terror suspect.  The movie begins with a vivid and terrifying sequence of events where members of the public are seemingly shot at random.  In light of the recent shootings in Connecticut, I’m sure this scene was particularly disturbing for some.  It reminded me of the DC Sniper, as we see the killer hunt his victims as they engaged in routine activity.  First he trained his sight on a woman walking alone, then on a man seated on a bench, and so on and so forth.  At first it seemed that he was bypassing his targets, whimsically sparing each one – but he quickly retraced his steps and picks off each victim in rapid succession.  He makes his getaway quickly, and soon the wrong man is arrested for the heinous crime.  We know this right away, but what we don’t know is why this unsuspecting former soldier named Barr was chosen as the fall guy, or why he wants Reacher to help him.

Rosamund Pike (Wrath of the Titans) and David Oyelowo (Lincoln) round out the cast as Barr’s lawyer Helen and the detective who wants to put him away, respectively.  They were serviceable in their roles, though something about Pike annoys me.  I think I haven’t forgiven her for replacing Gemma Arterton in Wrath of the Titans, which is unfair.  Nevertheless, I was glad that her character and Reacher kept it professional throughout the movie.  I didn’t notice any particular chemistry between the two, which was in keeping with Reacher’s solitary nature.

Reacher was similar to some of Tom Cruise’s past characters, in that he was a skilled antihero, a good guy who isn’t afraid to punish mercilessly when pushed by an adversary.  Despite his toughness, I liked that Reacher was more of a thinker than a bruiser; he only used violence as a last resort.  His mysteriousness only heightens the suspense of the movie, and I thought much of it was smart and well done.  However, after mulling it over with a friend who also saw it – I have to admit that certain scenes were foolish and didn’t quite make sense.  One fight scene between Reacher and two foes looked like something out of the Three Stooges, and it dumbed down an otherwise smart movie.  I’m not sure why the scene played out that way, though writer/director Christopher McQuarrie is brilliant to me, on the strength of The Usual Suspects alone.  I thought the writing was very sharp for the most part, but I was admittedly sucked in from the opening scene, so I may have had blinders on.

Tom Cruise is like a timeless, cryogenic wonder.  He is either genetically blessed, or he has the best plastic surgeon in Hollywood – because he still looks great and is believable.  At the age of 50 he is still convincingly playing the action hero, which is pretty impressive.  I’m not familiar with the series by which the movie was inspired, but I understand there was some backlash from its fans about his casting.  The Reacher of literary note was a blonde behemoth – which clearly does not describe Cruise.  Like I said, I’m not familiar with the books, so I share no such disappointment.  In sum, I thought Jack Reacher was pretty good, but it’s not a must-see.  Grade: B.