CANDY SMUGGLERS ANONYMOUS

CSA Communiqué no. 12 
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy
Directed by Tomas Alfredson
Starring Gary Oldman, Colin Firth, John Hurt, Tom Hardy
Chelsea Clearview
Candies: Haribo Twin Cherries(TC), Haribo Rattle Snakes (CM), some weird cookie, which is technically a baked good and not a candy (LZ- guest Smuggler)

It’s pretty clear to this reviewer that Tomas Alfredson is now emerging as a potentially titanic new force in cinema. Returning to the big screen for the first time since Låt Den Rätte Komma In (Let the Right One In), one of the more brilliant films of 2008, Alfredson dazzles in his first real foray into English language cinema. Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy is an adaptation of the John le Carré novel of the same name. In Alfredson’s capable hands, and trusted to a small army of fantastic actors, it is a veritable tour de force.

The art direction and costumes could not evoke the era more thoroughly—the floral patterns, the multitude of browns, the hair, the suits, the wall paper—everything was flawless. I was only alive for the last couple years of the seventies, but everything I saw on the screen transported me instantly back to that time. This achievement can largely go unnoticed in some films, but I believe that it goes along way towards the believability of the film in the eyes of the viewer. Tinker, Tailor was reminiscent, in parts, to another European spy story told on celluloid: Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck’s Das Leben der Anderen (The Lives of Others).

My favorite shot was probably the wide angle image of the archive, showing all the different parts on multiple floors moving around simultaneously, à la a Wes Anderson model of a submarine or a train or a house. There were lots of other moving parts in the movie, including the titles in the opening sequence, which had the credit and name of the person receiving the credit moving in different directions. Not sure if there is a larger, hidden meaning in the moving images (spies always moving, noticing, watching, reacting, switching sides?), but at the very least, it made for interesting viewing.

Gary Oldman, playing the ousted protagonist, George Smiley, did not say a word for the first fifteen minutes of the movie, even though he was being talked at and about in almost every frame. His estranged lover Anne’s face, is never seen in full, even though other parts of her body are glimpsed in different shots throughout the movie.

The child that Jim Prideaux (Mark Strong) befriends at a boys’ school later in the movie is commended as “a good watcher.” Everyone in the film is, in fact, watching someone else. Is the kid supposed to be good material for a future spy? Also, the intelligence home base is called “the circus” and for the length of the movie, it certainly feels like one. I also loved the device of repeatedly returning to the holiday party that occurred in the past and showing bits and pieces of it throughout the movie to buttress different plot points.

The ending might be described as a little bit rushed, but it affords Mr. Alfredson the opportunity to flex his formidable film making chops: plot points whirl across the screen, scenes that would otherwise have taken minutes to convey normally, are conveyed in passing with shots that last only a few seconds. It takes a concerted efforts to decode each one and pay close attention not to miss anything.

This is definitely a movie I will need to see again, but one that immediately left a very favorable and lasting impression. The best directors always pick the best stories; after seeing the American remake of Mr. Alfredson’s previous feature, I was convinced of that fact. In this particular instance, the director chose another powerful story and succeeded again in interpreting it not only with panache, but also with grace. —LZ

It breaks my heart to see people leaving screenings of films. On the one hand, I think that these lazy people should just bear it; on the other hand, I can imagine that these people wanted to escape into a world of film, to be entertained (in this case, an espionage thriller), but instead found a complex, slow-moving drama about spies… with lots of nuanced dialogue with a variety of British accents. I noticed this too, and this may have distracted me from following the plot more carefully…

… ‘cuz I was lost. I didn’t know who was Tinker or who was Tailor! It wasn’t until near the end of the film that I realized that the person who was shot in the opening scene was still alive! I felt lost, stupid, and at times, bored! (I was also bothered by a sudden heat flash, for which I had to fan myself to cool off.) I was so “off” this movie that I thought I was seeing a film called, “Tinker Tailor Toy Soldier”.

But like Charlie, I still enjoyed Tinker (who?), Tailor (what?), Soldier (huh?), Spy (which one?), despite failing miserably in not being able to recount the critical details. The pleasure of this film came from its amazing cast (mostly old dudes, though) and also for its intelligent set/production design. There was one amazing scene where a phone call is being bugged by a woman who is transcribing the conversation, and as the line is placed on hold, everyone involved in the phone call are shown humming the same tune. I didn’t know what was going on (who was calling whom and why were they being bugged?), but I didn’t need to know much to feel the resonance of this particular scene.

Now somebody please get me the Cliff Notes to Tinker Tailor so that I may reconstruct this film from memory. Oh, yes… I remember that! —TC

CSA Communiqué no. 11
Moneyball
Directed by Bennett Miller
Starring Brad Pitt, Jonah Hill, Phillip Seymour Hoffman
Quad Cinema
Candies: Hershey’s Cookies and Cream, Bounty (TC), Twizzlers, Raisinettes (CM), Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups (LZ, guest Smuggler)

As someone who doesn’t understand much about baseball, I really enjoyed Moneyball. To me, you don’t have to love the sport in order to love a sports movie (growing up, Hoosiers was one of my favorites!). If the story is a good one and it’s well told, then I’m in. And because I don’t follow baseball or have any interest in which team is winning in any given season, I had no knowledge of how the story would turn out. All I knew about the film was what I had read about the plot: Constricted by a tiny budget (in MLB standards) Billy Beane (Brad Pitt), general manager of the Oakland A’s, uses computer generated analysis to put together what seems to be a rag-tag team with remarkable results. 

I found this film to be understated, and I love an understated movie. Casting Jonah Hill was inspired. I think he is funny and smart and, and it turns out the casting department’s gamble paid off- he’s a good dramatic actor to boot! No doubt, this role will open up all kinds of different roles to him, which is very deserved, in my opinion. 

After the movie, Tom said he thinks that Brad Pitt always plays himself. Tom, I’m going to have to disagree with you. I think Pitt is an underrated actor. He is a very good looking man and I think he is passed over in terms of his talent because of it. I do agree though, that it’s hard not to see him as Brad Pitt, but I think that is more due to his overexposure in the tabloid media than his acting ability. He was really terrific in Twelve Monkeys, Fight Club, and Inglorious Basterds and I think he portrayed Billy Beane as a multi-dimensional person with smarts, character, bravery, integrity and humor. Whether that is an accurate portrayal of what the real Beane is like, I have no idea, but I believed Pitt and was rooting for him right from the start.

So overall, Moneyball was one of the better movies I’ve seen lately. I thought the restrained use of music was unusual and actually a nice touch and I liked the gritty way in which it was filmed (weak-armed boom operator notwithstanding!). It’s nice to see a film which makes you feel good about life. Moneyball doesn’t necessarily end how I thought, or I should say hoped, it would, but life also doesn’t always turn out how you expect it to either. What’s important is the journey and hopefully we enjoy the ride along the way. —CM

PS. I would also like to note that although I enjoyed seeing this movie in such an empty theatre, the seats at Quad Cinema are SO tiny and close together, that if I wasn’t friends with the people sitting beside me, I would have felt they were invading my personal space. I think, had this been a sad movie, that would have negatively affected my experience. 

I despise films like Moneyball: these “feel-good” films that say, hey, let’s take something interesting and specific about an industry (here, baseball and the rise of statistics in baseball management) and make it good entertainment for everybody. Let’s throw in a big-name star and let him hit a home run.

The home run is the least interesting thing about baseball, I say.

Moneyball sets itself up nicely at first. There are snappy moments of the kind of behind-the-scenes decision making among baseball executives, managers, and scouts. As a diehard baseball fan, I was entertained.

Then Moneyball veers off into familiar Hollywood territory and becomes a movie about Billy Beane, the quiet maverick General Manager of the Oakland A’s who overhauled his organization by introducing statistical analysis. Moneyball, the film, isn’t about baseball: as presented in this limp, feel-good movie, Moneyball is about a man undergoing midlife crisis who wrestles with his failure as a once-promising baseball player, who tries to reconnect with his daughter, who wants to make a mark in his own way.

I remember seeing this very same film last year: it was called Somewhere by Sophia Coppola. I didn’t like that movie (although I found the scenes between the dissolute father and his daughter to be charming—but pointless) and certainly didn’t like Moneyball.

Then as these feel-good movies often do, the baseball season was recapped in cliched montages, complete with that scene from The Natural: an unlikely home run is hit and we see the batter run around the bases in slow motion, in silence. The crowd suddenly erupts. Lights everywhere.

Boring.

I kept wondering about the film that Steven Soderbergh was originally slated to make based on Michael Lewis’ book Moneyball (which I haven’t read), about how Soderbergh’s movies have far more interesting dialogue and weirdness. Didn’t Brad Pitt do his best work on Soderbergh films (The “Oceans” films)?

Ah, the possibilities. That being said, I can’t wait for Soderbergh’s upcoming chick-action flick, Haywire. I hope that he hits a triple (‘cuz a triple is the most exciting play in baseball). —TC

[Addendum: I also forgot to mention the single most ludicrous detail in Moneyball: the actor who played Jeremy Giambi was a good 18” inches shorter than Brad Pitt! What?]

I loved all the language in the “old boys” scouting room about good players having a “nice face.” Like being good looking was a prerequisite for being able to hit a baseball.  The book refers to this many times because it’s how the old school guys have always spoken. Billy Beane himself was the personification of this: a pretty face with a lot of confidence that was sure to pan out.. except that he didn’t. My favorite back and forth in the room was about the one player who would surely not pan out because he had a “6” girlfriend. The implication being that the player lacked confidence, and since confidence is universally acknowledged as the greatest baseball asset (this is a sport where players failing 7 out of 10 times are considered the elite of their profession), there was no way he could possibly succeed. What that equation failed to take into account, as we were to learn during the movie, was that the number crunchers should not be thinking in terms of getting three hits in ten at bats (.300 batting average), but should steer talent acquisition towards ball players getting to first base (or better) at a clip of 4 times in 10 plate appearances (.400 on base percentage). Jonah Hill made this clear to Brad Pitt in the parking lot, setting the story into motion.

Billy Beane’s daughter is the moral compass of the movie. It wasn’t immediately clear to me how she was going to factor in to the plot of the movie, but the ending set up a tidy, if over simplified, dilemma: Billy Beane has to decide whether or not he’s going to follow the money and (possibly) his dream job to Boston or stay home with the lowly A’s and their tiny payroll and remain close to his daughter. The implication here is that despite alluding to grander themes and goals (“If we pull this off, we change the game; we change the game for good”), Billy Beane has to look back to his moral compass first:  the game of baseball is great and amazing and whatever else, but his daughter and spending time with her is ultimately more important to him. As it should be. This decision is not really highlighted in the book, as Tom posited when we left the theater. The book is about the number crunching and the personnel decisions that come out of that. To the best of my recollection, there was no allusion to Beane’s family or daughter or any offer from Red Sox owner John Henry to go work for the Red Sox. I may be misremembering, but I agree with Tom that the movie has chosen (in part) to focus on other more universal themes to connect with its audience. It’s cop out in some ways, but one that ensures that the audience for this movie is not severely limited. A quick run down of the CSA reviewers of this movie illustrates this point pretty clearly.

“It’s hard not to be romantic about baseball.” I think that’s another theme at the heart of the movie. As Ken Burns might posit, baseball, like jazz or the American civil war, is one of our country’s most lasting legacies. Everyone who’s ever played the game or watched the game religiously views the game and its rich history very fondly, regardless of the steroids or the corked bats or the chaw spit or whatever. In fact, some of those things are what make the game endearing. I liked the fact that Billy was always spitting into a cup, btw. Billy Beane has to challenge all these romantic notions in order to be able to make the Oakland ball club competitive. It is this struggle that is the heart of the book, and in this reviewer’s opinion, should have been the greater struggle in this movie.

OK, so my brief thoughts turned slightly more expansive than I had anticipated. That may end up being my hallmark? What I was originally going to say was that my observations were not nearly as comprehensive as my thoughts on Shame, but that I thought that spoke to the level of impact the movie had on me: I liked it, but didn’t particularly love it. Which still holds true. —LZ

CSA Communiqué no. 10
Shame
Directed by Steve McQueen
Starring Michael Fassbender, Carey Mulligan
Chelsea Clearview
Candies: Welch’s Gummies (TC)*, Haribo Gummi Bears (CM), Dove Chocolate Minis (LZ- guest Smuggler)

*To be fair, I also had Ricola, which both Charlie and Lee contend is not candy. Hey, if it looks like candy and tastes like candy…. I say.

I found Shame to be a sad film. Brandon’s (Michael Fassbender) life is carefully constructed in order to indulge his sexual addiction, until it is disrupted by an unannounced and open-ended visit from his sister, Sissy (Carey Mulligan).

Obviously a sex addict has problems, but I found it so disturbing and sad how Brandon’s entire life revolves around sex. He has no real friends, seems to have nothing in his life he enjoys (other than sex), and doesn’t feel anything… ever. The only emotion we see until the very end is a single tear running down his cheek as his sister sings in a nightclub. Why does her singing strike through his cold heart?

There is a whole back-story which we are not privy to, but is hinted at a couple of times throughout the film. I am intrigued as to what the writer had in mind, but I also appreciate that it’s not really necessary to know. I like not being spoon-fed a story and, as I have said before, I think it is often scarier to leave it up to the viewer’s imagination.

Fassbender was very good in this—at times strikingly handsome and then almost grotesque in his icy demeanor. I liked the way this film was shot, I liked the long tracking shots and uncut scenes and my two favorite shots were the long tracking shot of him running down what I think must have been 31^st Street and the shot of him at the end of Pier 54 in the rain.  I also really liked the music, which I thought was a nice juxtaposition to the emotionally stunted characters on screen.

This was a disturbing movie, for sure, but I also found parts to be slow and a bit boring.  I am eagerly awaiting a film which deeply resonates with me.  The only film I’ve seen so far this Oscar year which I would categorize as outstanding and unforgettable is The Skin I Live In. Is it me or, Hollywood, is it you? I’m leaning towards the latter. —CM

The last scene where he re-encounters the red haired girl on the subway reminded me very much of the ending of Martha Marcy May Marlene. In that movie, the cultish hippies are chasing after her in a car and you feel like she will never quite be able to put that experience behind her. They will always be after her. In this movie, he runs into a failed conquest, but this time she does not appear eager to run away. He’s got to make a decision as the movie ends: go back to his old ways and chase the girl or head off a relapse and let her get out without following her. Same idea: the protagonists in both movies will continue to face their struggles even after the story we see on the screen ends. Feels like this type of ending is a little more prevalent these days. I was originally hesitant to embrace it, but now I kinda like it.

I did not understand the connection between the subway police investigation and his sudden urge to call the sister three times and then run back to the apartment. My first thought was that maybe the incident on the platform somehow spurred bad thoughts about what his sister might be doing or may have already done to herself, but my problem with that is that these sudden feelings have been more or less completely absent the entire movie. I mean that’s what the movie is about, right?  He doesn’t feel anything because everything in his life is just about surface pleasures? After he chews the sister out on the couch, does he actually feel bad about it? How about when she catches him whacking off and then he jumps on her on the couch and shakes her and yells at her to tell him what she’s doing there? He doesn’t understand why she’s there because he can’t communicate with her or anyone else. Except, of course, through sex. He’s pretty good at that. Does the crime on the subway platform really make him think for the first time that his sister might hurt herself? Her suicide attempts are referenced earlier by the boss who takes her home after her singing performance because he notes the scars on her arms, so we know it’s come up before. We see the scars ourselves when she’s in the hospital. And by the way, that building “downtown” was totally not believable. Tall building like that is more likely north of Union Square. [Note: we determined that the “tall building” in question may have been Trump Soho. It’s always fun to piece together the locations of movies that are shot in New York City.]

What happens to him with the chick from work in the hotel room?  Was that conversation in the restaurant really the only time anyone has ever challenged him about not being able to keep a relationship together? I find that hard to believe given his legendary prowess. We’re supposed to believe that he can’t perform because he’s thinking too much about this one particular girl? Did she really hit that close to home and is that why he needs to confront her and make out with her at the office? What’s the blow for, does he need to psych himself up? Is that a commonplace activity for him, or is this a special occurrence?

The scene in the club across the street came as a surprise, but as it unfolded I thought to myself, “This is almost definitely not the first time he’s done this.” He’s also probably been punched and kicked in the face before as well. Unless the story we’re watching is really a snapshot of a point in his life where things are beginning to fall apart, spurred and illustrated lustily by the scene in the bar where he’s hitting on the girl and throwing it right in the face of her boyfriend. If that’s really the story that’s being told, that’s cool.

But this was not how I originally viewed the movie. Either way is fine, I suppose. Over all, I really liked it. It’s not my favorite movie of the year, but it was solid. —LZ

Sex addiction, man, it is a bitch. Any addiction is bad, I suppose, and most films that represent addiction (mostly of drug addiction or alcoholism) often resort to heavy-handed moralizing or an uplifting finale.

Shame is neither of these two types of addiction movies. In fact, as a film that’s about sex, it throws the viewer deep into the emptiness of the compulsive and irrational routines of a sex addict, Brandon, played masterfully by Michael Fassbender. This is not a rah-rah film. For a film about sex, it makes it seem alien, strange, disturbing, and boring. I marveled at the courage of Fassbender to fully immerse himself into his character. He literally bares it all—and then some. Carey Mulligan, who is also terrific, plays Sissy, Brandon’s equally damaged sister, whose sudden appearance into his closed life suddenly throws everything asunder.

Shame is also a contrast of two very different styles: there’s the cool, formal film that observes Brandon’s sexcapades with great distance; then there are small moments where the characters interact, between Brandon and Sissy, and between Brandon and a co-worker. With the former, McQueen showcases the incomprehensible banality and self-destructiveness of sex addiction with an elegant style that made the proceeding all the more disturbing. This dude is fucking like a maniac—with strangers in alleys, watching porn on his laptop, jerking off in the bathroom, having an orgy—and the scenes are composed with an artfulness and intelligence without casting judgment on his actions. In this a way, Shame asks the viewer to experience intimately sex addiction without making conclusions. (Hey, that pathetic orgy scene towards the end of the film was pathetic and messy but it was lovely, almost ethereal). Then there is that other film within Shame where the characters actually talk to one another. As Sissy presses on to reconnect with her brother or as Brandon woos a co-worker (with whom he might have an actually emotional and intellectual connection), Shame takes on another life: that this is a real person who has compartmentalized the pain of his life by pursuing sex singularly. And with this, as you piece together the puzzles of his story that aren’t necessarily divulged in entirety, the tragedy of Brandon emerges.

In the end, we are presented with a scene that mirrors the opening sequence where Brandon flirts openly with a married woman in the subway. It is not clear that anything has changed and the ambiguity left me impressed: we don’t ever know what goes on in the minds of others. We can observe (in film), we can empathize or be repulsed. But when a character doesn’t want anyone to know his secrets—his shame—it would be disingenuous for us to presume that we should know anything about him at all. —TC

Maybe I’m a killjoy, swimming against convention and popular sentiment, but I did not love The Artist. I had received a rave review of the film from a film via text message: “The Artist was excellent; may be one of the best movies I’ve seen.” I was intrigued…

The Artist is a story about a silent movie star, George Valentin, whose life suddenly changes with the advent of talking pictures and a chance encounter with an up and coming actress Peppy Miller, whose career skyrockets as the leading star of the “talkies.” Presented in lovely black and white, The Artist is a silent film that is presented without synchronized recorded sound, complete with title cards to convey key dialogue.

I loved the first third of this film in which we are thrown into this bygone world of wild theatrical gestures and visual fancy. We see the world of the silent film as a near-faithful representation of a silent film. There’s great dancing and a sense of whimsy that is charming. But as the story unfolds in the sudden transition to the world of the talking picture, The Artist unravels and loses its focus. Suddenly, this film is no longer a “silent film” but a film that merely lacks dialogue.

There’s a distinction to be made between a “silent film,” which was a product of its time, of its technological limitations (the synchronization of recorded sound to the rolling image), and the theatrical world that influenced that golden era of pictures. Everything in a silent film must be exaggerated—extreme close-ups with emphatic expressions, scenes that explode with action, theatrical acting (there’s no subtlety of modern acting in silent film)—because the films were made to be seen purely on the presentation of the moving images alone.

I am suggesting that The Artist is not a recreation of a silent film but a film that lacks dialogue: it slips into the techniques and the conventions gained from the talking picture: the acting and the mise-en-scene are more naturalistic, toned-down, and the story is more nuanced and detailed—possibly “fussy”. The Artist is not a silent film, it is a period piece, presented in black and white, that lacks dialogue, that has more in common with talking romantic-dramas of the thirties through the fifties than any silent film that preceded it (that I know of).

And this is why I didn’t love The Artist. If you take any talking picture and hit mute, you aren’t seeing a silent film. You are seeing a film without sound. And in this, you are missing out on a lot of information that is crucial to the story. Now if you turn on the closed captioning, but only selectively view a selection of dialogue, you still aren’t watching a silent film. The Artist was shot, edited, and presented in the language (style and technique) and conventions of the talking picture, and as a talking picture that unsuccessfully tries to be a silent film, it fails on both levels: as a recreation of silent picture (an interesting formal experiment) and as a stand alone film on any level.

Finally, George’s cute dog was a clue that the filmmaker’s assumptions were off. That dog was clearly a nod to Asta from the “Thin Man” pictures, which was a talking comedy. Also, the use of Art Deco typeface in the title screen and in the title cards was another clue. While silent films were created in the Art Deco era, the films employed typefaces that were borrowed from late 19th Century Gothic styles and Art Nouveau. Art Deco typefaces only became the popular choice of title screens in the ’30s just when the silent films were all but gone. These details matter.

—TC

I find I don’t have a whole lot to say about this film (which is perhaps not a bad thing as I have decided that we need shorter reviews on this site). I thoroughly enjoyed some parts, chuckled at a few others, and definitely don’t regret having seen this film on the big screen. And yet, there’s not a whole lot from the movie which stands out in my mind.      

More than anything else, I thought The Artist was an interesting viewing experience. This film is likely to be a darling at the upcoming awards ceremonies, but I think that will be based more on the fact that it is a bold film to make in this age of fast-paced, quick-witted, generally loud movies and less to do with the actual film itself. A very simple plot of boy meets girl, boy’s star sets as girl’s star rises, boy and girl never forget each other, and yet, it’s a shoe-in for nominations and will probably even nab a few big awards. Let me put it another way, if this movie was a full-color, full-sound production, would it attract the same kind of acclaim? 

The acting by Jean Dujardin was good, I enjoyed watching Bérénice Bejo, and the little dog, for me, stole the show. It was fun spotting the many actors from comedic projects such as Roseanne, Babe, and Kindergarten Cop, but more than anything, I think it was the lack of speaking which I found the most interesting element. This movie, undoubtedly, took a lot of courage to produce, but would I shower it with adoration and accolades just because it doesn’t have speaking and is in black and white? I’m not so sure.  

—CM

CSA Communiqué no. 8
50/50
Directed by Jonathan Levine
Starring Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Seth Rogen, Anna Kendrick, Bryce Dallas Howard, Angelica Houston
Leows 34th Street Cinema
Candies: Dark Chocolate Raisinettes (EH), Swedish Fish (CM), Symphony chocolate bar and Twix (TC)

(Disclaimer #1: This movie would have to be seriously bad for me to not like it. I have a deep, deep love of all things Seth Rogen and I think Joseph Gordon-Levitt is so super cute and basically just love them both. The only thing that could have made this film any better in the casting department would be if Jason Segel was in it. But at least I have the upcoming Muppets movie to look forward to!)

Inspired by a true story, 50/50 is a dramatic comedy that tells the story of 27 year old Adam, who is diagnosed with a rare form of spinal cancer. Finding humor in unexpected places, this is a story of friendship, courage and love as Adam fights for survival. 

I really liked this film (see Disclaimer #1). I thought it was such a refreshing balance of an emotional story, countered with light, amusing moments. Written from his own personal experience, Will Reiser’s script weaves easily between heartfelt emotion and laugh-out-loud comedy. Never veering into the overly sentimental, the writing is honest and straightforward, leaving a lot of the emotion to be captured by the actors themselves. Very few films these days are legitimately funny, and there were a few scenes in 50/50 where I found myself wondering if Rogen and JGL were ad-libbing. As lighthearted as some parts were, there were also really touching and emotional moments as well. I think JGL’s interpretation of Adam was so great and spot on. How many people who are battling serious illness just want to be treated normally? But, as they hope for that, they also eventually always have to face the scary reality. Choosing to just get on with his life and wanting to be treated normally, Adam tries and tries to ignore how sick he truly is, until finally forced to confront his one final option, the frustration, the fury, sadness and fear all come bursting out. 

(Disclaimer #2: Tom, as it turns out, has a heart made of stone. Not only did he not shed a tear, but he laughed at me for doing so—DURING THE MOVIE! Way to ruin the moment, dude! Tom, therefore, gets a failing grade for cinema etiquette this week!).  

Even with his turn in Inception last year, JGL, remains a hugely under-appreciated actor. Hey Hollywood, give this guy some more parts- he is so good and I’ll see ANYTHING he is in! —CM

50/50 is a movie about confronting tragedy with humor. I don’t necessarily mean that the characters purposely deal with the underlying tragedy of the story with humor (though they do to a degree), but more that the movie itself is a lesson on confronting something awful with something lighthearted and human. After the initial shock of his terrible news passes, Adam deals with it with an almost cool calm. His best friend Kyle, played pretty charmingly by Seth Rogan, uses a sort of dark humor and, as I saw it, blasé attitude to attempt to help his friend cope with this awful disease. So in that sense, that character definitely does confront tragedy with humor, but it’s done with the greatest of intentions. I would argue, however, that he does use his friend’s condition to benefit himself and his own sex life, which I found to be pretty sad.  But overall, I liked the way the movie was presented. I liked the way they built a sort of emotional momentum where you’re waiting for Adam’s inevitable fear to break free and then it finally does. I liked that it was also a pretty touching love story. And I loved that they weaved Liars’ “The Other Side of Mt. Heart Attack” into the emotional climax of the movie.

There were a few scenes that I found especially moving. The chemotherapy and backyard pot smoking scenes with Mitch and Alan (played by Matt Frewer and Philip Baker Hall respectively) were interesting insofar as it was two “experienced” cancer patients sort of teaching the “rookie” the ropes of coping with such a disease. One of my favorite scenes was when Adam’s mom (played by Anjelica Huston) confesses to him that she’s been attending cancer support groups. Prior to this scene, Adam treats his (admittedly overbearing) mother almost with disgust. After this scene, he treats her with love and care. Or the scene where, after Adam has accused Kyle of being a selfish friend who has used his cancer for his own good, he then discovers a book on how to support a friend with cancer in Kyle’s bathroom and a genuinely appreciative and emotional smile comes to his face. But the most touching scene, I thought, was Adam telling his dementia ridden father that he loved him in a few short sentences just before going into the operating room.

I thought the acting was great on just about all counts. I don’t particularly love Seth Rogan, but he played this part very well, I thought. Anjelica Huston is always incredible and created a very convincing character in Adam’s mom. I’ve loved Philip Baker Hall since Magnolia, and even though this was a very small role, I thought he was great. Ultimately, though, this was quite easily Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s movie. In a word, I thought he was outstanding. His timing is great, his facial expressions are great, his emotions are fully developed and real; he simply owned the role. I wouldn’t doubt if he’s nominated for an Oscar for 50/50, and frankly, I think he should be.
—EK

My colleagues—I mean, comrades—have failed to mention the best thing about 50/50: Anna Kendrick. I’m not trying to pick a fight with Charlie, but as likable as Joseph Gordon-Levitt is, he is a one-note wonder who excels at playing the nice guy. And as Adam in this movie, JGL doesn’t offer much by a way of depth or range. Playing a producer for an NPR affiliate station in Seattle, he comes across as a generic left-leaning NPR sorta guy. I’m not complaining, but his role and performance was buttressed by the classy Anna Kendrick. She’s got range: she can play the uptight Type A gal and show off an inner sweetness and mirth. I’m glad that Adam survived the 50/50 odds, and even happier that he got a gal who is way beyond his league. The love that Charlie feels for JGL, I feel for Anna Kendrick. You want to root for her.

My other major problem with this film was the treatment of Bryce Dallas Howard as Adam’s fickle andneurotic girlfriend. This dynamic between the sick guy and his uncertain girlfriend would have been the more interesting focus, in my opinion. Yet in 50/50, her character is presented as a comic foil with a strict black and white morality. Howard’s character cheats on Adam because she’s unsure about their relationship and can’t bear his sickness. This is the more honest dilemma of life, sickness, death and love, and I wish that the movie would have treated this dimension with more subtlety—and compassion for her plight. It’s not like she took a vow of “in sickness or in health” vow by being his girlfriend, right? It’s easy to root for the sick guy, but I thought that her character deserved more attention. (Confession: I may be pulling for her ‘cuz she’s really hot…) But, no, it’s not cool to destroy her artwork as Adam and his bro do in this movie. Destroying art is wrong; destroying a present is really classless.

Then, there’s Angelica Huston who plays Adam’s mom and she is wonderful. This is another dynamic that could have been explored more fully in this movie.

While I liked 50/50, I wonder if this film didn’t skate around the real deeper issues about human bonds, mutual fears, and shortcomings. Was this a bro-comedy or a drama about sickness? I couldn’t tell. The film packed a lot of possibilities into the storyline of a man confronting sickness and his mortality. But these possibilities were just that: sketches and not a full engagement with anything. And as the film built up to an emotional climax, buttressed by JGL freaking out on the eve of his risky surgery and the montage featuring a great song by Liars as Erik mentioned previously, I didn’t quite feel whatever emotions were being handed out shot by shot, note by note. Death is sweeping stuff; it’s weepy stuff. But I felt a disconnect between what was being sold and what I had witnessed for myself. Hence, my cold-hearted sabotage of the moment: laughing at Charlie for shedding tears. It was a glib response to a moment that felt artificial.

I said this to Erik and Charlie as we left the theater (note to my comrades: we should try better to have a conversation after the film to fuel our ideas) that this movie felt like a long episode of Grey’s Anatomy. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, I said. One could do a lot worse than to sit through an episode of Grey’s Anatomy, but we would never mistaken an episode of Grey’s Anatomy for illuminating deep ideas about life, sickness, death, and love. —TC