Thief

Michael Mann | 1981 | 122 min | US

Thieves should really try to stop at the second-to-last big score, because that last big score always turns out terribly. James Caan's Frank is a perfect example. He's a safecracker doing every job quietly, cleanly, and professionally. He makes nary a ripple until his fencing middle man gets tossed out a window and Frank goes looking for his money. He finds his money in the hands of a syndicate that promises him everything he would need to finally get out of the game and lead a comfortable life in a comfortable family. But trying to get an honest deal out of Megacorp when you're running a local mom and pop isn't so easy.

It is impossible not to root for Caan's thief. He is a talented craftsman (a fact proven through intense, calculated robbery set pieces) and a likeable man. After too many years spent in the care of the state, Frank is trying to carve out his piece of the ol' American dream. His modest goals make him the least corrupt and corruptible man in a world of thieves. His courtship with Tuesday Weld, in which he tries to quickly explain the above through collage art, is one of the finer courtships on film.

The eclectic and remarkable supporting cast includes Weld, Willie Nelson, Robert Prosky, The Belush, and a host of easily recognizable character talent like Tom Signorelli, Dennis Farina, and William Petersen. The movie is stacked with talent from the Michael Mann Players. And while I am not a big fan of Tangerine Dream, this soundtrack sets the perfect mood, often sounding more like discordant Eno than the sonic wallpaper of Risky Business.

Best of all, Thief is not troubled by the interior decorator pretensions that I find bog down some of Mann's other films. But don't worry Mann-purists: Frank runs a Cadillac dealership, offering plenty of shots of light arrays reflected in triple-gloss paint. Thief is set in that New York City which exists exclusively in film, with permanently rain slick streets and street lights that barely illuminate anything. De rigueur for neo-noir, but I'm not complaining. Thief is the complete package, aesthetically, with the emotion and story to back it up.

Though it is a great one, Thief is only a crime procedural superficially; ultimately it is a lesson in capital, labour, corruption, and exploitation. The inevitable shootout ending isn't neatly topped with a True Romance bow. The moment before credits instead marks the beginning of a Man with No Name story, or perhaps a revised vision of The Jungle.

Death Wish 3

Michael Winner | 1985 | 92 min | USA

East New York City, 1985: a time when crime ran rampant and cars exploded at the slightest provocation. Mean streets indeed for architect/crime fighter Paul Kersey to return to, particularly when played by a then 63 year-old Charles Bronson.

Kersey buses his way back to the big city to see an old friend and arrives just in time to hear his final words. His friend had been the latest of many to suffer a violent beating at the hands of local toughs who all look like Adam Ant (including a baby faced Alex Winter). That death cannot stand, will not stand, and the fearful neighbourhood residents have little to do but watch as Kersey takes revenge and causes massive, massive collateral damage.

Far more than the prior revenge films, Death Wish 3 is stunningly bizarre. From the off-kilter direction, to the dialogue ("They killed the Giggler, man!"), to the funk/no wave hybrid soundtrack of Jimmy Page, Death Wish 3 is relentless is the best possible way. This was the third and last Death Wish for director Winner and the second from the 80s action producer giants Cannon Films. All parties involved go for broke. The violence comes fast and heavy, and no one is satisfied until city blocks have been completely devastated. And among all that rubble and amorality, wall to wall laughs.

As the death toll rises around Kersey yet again, Bronson all but shoulder shrugs his way through his performance. At those moments he does speak (according to supporting actor Ed Lauter, he didn't enjoy delivering lines), his delivery is at once psychotically detached and comedic; which is to say, perfect. He shrugs off the death of his wife and coos over his custom Wildey Magnum (the gun's manufacturer later featured the film in a commercial promoting the same!).

Romantic interest Deborah Raffin, playing lawyer Kathryn Davis, also offers a delirious performance and the strangest first date you have ever uncomfortably witnessed. She hates her sister, loves sports, and enjoys taking home brooding strangers after she aids their release from jail onto skid row. Aforementioned Ed Lauter also deserves a gold star for his role as a bipolar cop who salutes friend and foe alike as "dude."

Of course, Death Wish wouldn't be Death Wish if our man didn't soundly dispose of all the street trash ruining grocery runs for everyone. Sure, Kersey takes care of the young punks, but to what end? As the film wraps, wild gangs of geriatrics have pulled out their heaters and tasted blood. . . and loved it.

If you don't watch this movie you hate freedom.

A spotless 35mm print of Death Wish 3 plays again at Toronto Underground Cinema this Sunday, August 1, at 7:00.

Harry Brown

Daniel Barber | 2009 | 97 mins | UK

I don't really like to open with glib "it's like X meets Y but with more zazz!" descriptions in my reviews, but truly, Harry Brown is like Gran Torino, only it's Michael Caine, and he blows people's heads off. The film's understated badass-ness is obvious from the opening credits, which simply proclaim in small white letters on a black screen: Michael Caine (pause) is (pause) Harry Brown. Yeah he is. And if you mess with him, he will murder you in the face.

Harry is a widower living in a house near a rather rough apartment complex in London. He sees the thuggish kids who hang out at the nearby underpass, and he avoids them by taking the long route. People in the neighbourhood are harassed, fed up and on edge. Harry can feel the bad vibes building up around him but it's not until an old friend of his tries to defend himself and ends up dead that he realises that he can't just sit by and watch. Coincidentally, Harry happened to have been in the Marines as a young man. Those skills might come in handy.

Soon, Harry is on a mission to clean up the 'hood, while a well meaning but ineffectual cop (Emily Mortimer) who started out investigating his friend's death starts to suspect him of the recent spate of gang-member deaths.

There's not much to this film other than Michael Caine's amazing acting chops and some clever action sequences, but that's totally good enough to make it 97 minutes of awesome. Caine is a much more three dimensional and frail vigilante than Eastwood's Kowalski. There's depth to his old-guy-badass, and it makes for some great action. Of particular note is an extended gun purchasing scene in which the tension is so drawn out that when it finally breaks, it's hard not to let out a cheer.

Vanishing Act

David Greene | 1986 | 95 mins | USA

This comedy-tinged whodunit stars Elliott Gould as Lieutenant Rudameyer, a New York cop transplanted into a small town nestled in the mountains, where the air is too damn fresh and you can't find a decent smoked meat sandwich to save your life.

When a man named Harry Kenyon (Mike Farrell) bursts into his police station claiming that his new bride has disappeared during their honeymoon, Rudameyer is skeptical at first, but becomes increasingly embroiled in the strange case. Kenyon claims that his wife Chris, a woman he met only a week before in Las Vegas and fell in love with at first sight, has mysteriously disappeared only days after they began their honeymoon in the snowy oasis.

When the wife (Margot Kidder) turns up in the care of a local priest, Father Macklin (Fred Gwynne), the case seems neatly tied up, except for one thing: Harry Kenyon is adamant that the pretty brunette standing before him is not his wife. There's no evidence to support Kenyon's wild claim that the newly rediscovered Chris is an impostor, but of course he's the only person in town who's ever seen her before, so it's all rather difficult to prove.

The film slowly escalates in tension as suspense, as the husband, the wife and the priest all dance around each other, each more suspicious than the next. Only dear old Rudameyer is reliably unconcerned and uninvolved, spending most of his time talking nostalgically about the good old days, when he lived in smoggy, dirty, beautiful New York. While everyone else is in some kind of thriller, he seems to be acting in a near-slapstick comedy. It's awesome.

Vanishing Act is decent for a TV movie, but not much more than that. At least there's enough payoff in the 'twist ending' to make the 95 minutes seem worthwhile. Sort of.

Man on a Swing

Frank Perry | 1974 | 110 mins | USA

Director Frank Perry followed up '72's awesome Play It As It Lays with this strange thriller, loosely based on a true story. Originally, the chilling real-life tale was written up as the non-fiction book "The Girl on the Volkswagen Floor" (a considerably more sensible title - even after watching the entire film and seeing the 'man' on the 'swing' mentioned in the title and visible on the poster, I have no idea why the film was called that - Frank Perry's own esoteric reasons, no doubt). The few changes that were made in the adaptation to film didn't help the story much, but screenwriters have their own mysterious motives, I suppose.

A small town police chief (Cliff Robertson) is investigating the murder of a young woman found on the floor of her VW Bug, in the parking lot of a mall. There are few leads and even fewer clues, until a strange man (Joel Grey) claiming to be a clairvoyant comes to the cops offering help. His spastic trances, intense visions and eerily accurate details about the crime provide help at first, but ultimately make him the chief's prime suspect.

In the original story, the man investigating the crime and delving into the mysterious realm of the occult is a reporter, which actually makes a lot more sense than making the guy a police chief, who would hardly be able to take off from his job for days at a time to go chat with occultist professors about ESP. Still, in spite of the inconsistencies and loose ends that never quite get tied up in the story, Man on a Swing is a compelling and creepy thriller.

The film's appeal is owed almost entirely to Joel Grey's over the top, terrifyingly bizarre performance as the spindly little psychic in the white suit. His near-epileptic fits and feverish pronouncements keep you guessing until the end, exactly as the tag line on the poster predicts:

Clairvoyant.
Occultist.
Murderer.

Which?

Terribly Happy [Frygtelig lykkelig]

Henrik Ruben Genz | 2008 | 90 mins | Denmark

Terribly Happy is loosely based on some very grizzly real-life events, and it's the kind of story that would have been adapted into a gritty, tension-soaked crime drama anywhere else in the world. In Denmark, though, they turn it into a tension-soaked, nearly Twin-Peaks-esque black comedy, which actually rescues it from being a so-so drama and turns it into a truly eerie thriller.

Robert (Jakob Cedergren) is a policeman with a shady past who's been reassigned from Copenhagen to a quiet provincial town surrounded by grim expanses of grey clouds and muddy swampland. The townsfolk are predictably suspicious of the prim, proper, by-the-book young man, and soon local customs and disturbing secrets start to come knocking on the cop shop door.

The "everything's ok down here" facade of the creepy little town begins to crumble pretty much the second Robert moves in, when we see him walking down the desolate, rain slicked streets of the town, observed by a small, lone girl walking a squeaky (and empty) baby stroller. Robert soon finds himself pulled into the orbit of the local beauty, Ingelise, who needs his protection against her abusive husband - the most dangerous man in town.

Robert arrives in the south Jutland community as a good cop and a good man who's trying to sort out his own life while injecting a little bit of civilized order into a place that's too set in its weird ways. Instead, our hero finds himself being changed by the place and its inhabitants - bit by bit, but irrevocably.

Based on an Erling Jepsen novel (he also wrote The Art of Crying) and apparently on a true story before that, Terribly Happy is a surreal and spellbinding nightmare about a world so realistic and similar to our own that the slight differences are all the more horrifying and grotesque. The churning bogs that hide a bubbling mass of dark secrets create an atmosphere so oppressive that it's hard not to worry from the start that Robert has accidentally stepped outside of time and into a forgotten place that one cannot easily escape from.

Harry and Walter Go to New York

Mark Rydell | 1976 | 115 mins | USA

I love Elliott Gould more than could be expressed in a simple blog post. I'd rather watch him on screen than the vast majority of actors in Hollywood, so when I discovered that he once starred in a wacky caper / heist comedy with James Caan and Michael Caine, I thought "this is going to be 100% pure solid gold".

I was wrong in so many ways that it's hard to count them all. There was nothing the absurdly star-studded cast (which also features Diane Keaton, Carol Kane, Lesley Ann Warren, Jack Gilford, Burt Young and many others) could possibly have done to rescue this bizarre period clunker from a grim death. Actually, I think the film probably had a chance at a life as a cult favourite if it weren't for the unfortunate musical number featuring Elliott Gould in blackface.

In case you're thinking "Heist comedy? Blackface? Gould and Caine facing off mano-a-mano? What doesn't sound awesome about that?", let me clarify.

Gould and Caan play Walter and Harry, respectively. They're a pair of small time shyster Vaudevillians who get caught stealing dough during their phony fortune teller act and end up in the same prison as the notoriously wealthy, classy and powerful bank thief Adam Worth (Michael Caine). When the two hapless would-be criminals discover Worth's scheme to break into the world's most impenetrable bank vault, Harry convinces the reluctant Walter that they should try to beat him to it.

The film isn't bad because of the dumb plot, the casual racism, the excessively wacky slapstick sequences that go on too long, or the repetitive and too frequent Vaudevillian musical numbers. It's bad because in spite of all of the above (which you'd think would at least make it a hilarious thing to watch while you're drunk on a Friday night), it manages to be kind of slow paced, plodding and dull. Even Diane Keaton manages to be so shrill and annoying that it's hard to believe Annie Hall would make her a universal love object for nerds only a year later.

The one fascinating thing about this debacle is Caine's character, Adam Worth, who was based on a real 19th century thief known as the "Napoleon of crime". One of William Pinkerton's worthy adversaries ('scuse the pun) and allegedly the inspiration for Sherlock Holmes great nemesis, Professor Moriarty, Worth would make a better subject for a movie than Harry and Walter do. Apparently, a fictitious one was already made starring Christian Bale in the title role. Someone should make a real one.

Road House

Jean Negulesco | 1948 | 95 mins | USA

No, this isn't the Patrick Swayze film by the same name. This is another Ida Lupino gem that I discovered recently on my Noir kick. This time, she plays a tough lounge singer from Chicago named Lily Stevens who takes a six week gig at a backwoods road house owned by rich boy Jefty Robbins (Richard Widmark). It's not quite clear why Lily takes the job at first, but she obviously needs the dough, doesn't want any funny business from Jefty, and probably thinks it's none of your damn business why she took the offer anyhow.

Jefty's manager and lifelong friend Pete Morgan (Cornel Wilde) assumes Lily is just another pretty face with no talent that Jefty has dragged in to seduce until he tires of her. Instead, Lily's cigarette-soaked voice and melancholy air charms not only the road house customers, but Pete Morgan himself.

When Jefty leaves Lily in the care of his trusted pal while he's on a business trip, the inevitable happens. The two argue so much that they end up falling in love with each other, and are left with the considerable problem of what to tell Jefty when he returns.

The last couple of Ida Lupino films I've seen make me wonder if she had it in her contracts that she had to be smoking in every scene because she couldn't do otherwise in real life. Her hauntingly hoarse voice and dazzling outfits certainly thicken the atmosphere, but what really makes this an effective thriller is Richard Widmark's remarkable transformation from affable (if spoiled) playboy to menacing psycho who will stop at nothing to squash his former friend's every chance at happiness. Teetering on the edge between hatred and insanity, Widmark's Jefty is dangerous, volatile and relentless in his drive to get what he wants and ensure that nobody else does.

Plus, the film is almost worth watching just for the brilliant misty-woods set in which the grand finale takes place. It's an example of the kind of perfection that makes you not care that the forest was built in a studio lot somewhere, because it looks better than real woods anyway.

While The City Sleeps

Fritz Lang | 1956 | 100 mins | USA

I'm not sure if this Fritz Lang gem is "little known" or if I've been under a rock lately, but I'd never heard of While The City Sleeps until tonight, when my Noir mood led me to it.

Dana Andrews plays Edward Mobley, a Pulitzer prize winning reporter who works on the TV portion of the media empire of Amos Kyne, an aging mogul who kicks the bucket just as a hot news story comes in about the "Lipstick Killer" who's been offing young single girls around New York.

Kyne's wastrel son Walter (played with an impecably smarmy tone by Vincent Price) takes over the family business and immediately sets about pitting the top men in the office against each other for a spot as his right hand man. The news wire chief, Mark Loving (George Sanders), the managing editor John Day Griffith (Thomas Mitchell) and photographer 'Honest' Harry Kritzer (James Craig) are in a race against time to catch the killer before he strikes again, and snag the coveted Executive Director position. Meanwhile, Mobley just tries to keep his fiancee Nancy (Sally Forrest) happy while fending off the advances of womens' columnist Mildred Donner (hot hot Ida Lupino).

Of course, it's all really up to Mobley (a man without a lust for power) to find the killer, save the media empire from falling into the wrong hands and restore peace to his relationship. It's a tough job, but if anyone can do it surely it's a smooth talking, hard drinking newspaper man.

While the City Sleeps isn't more newspaper-romance than it is a mystery story, but it's still fun, fast paced noir thriller with plenty of razor sharp banter and sexy dames. Oh, and John Barrymore Jr. is fabulous as the menacing, silent 'mama's boy' killer. Don't worry, that's not a spoiler. You get to see him in action before the opening credits even roll.

The Big Fix

Jeremy Kagan | 1978 | 108 mins | USA

A very young and astonishingly charming Richard Dreyfuss stars as an ex Berkley activist turned private eye in this love letter to 1960s radicalism. Dreyfuss was riding the highest wave of his career, in the aftermath of Jaws, Close Encounters of the Third Kind and The Goodbye Girl, so I guess it's no wonder that he plays the character of Moses Wise in this fun little crime-comedy with so much natural charm that you just want to pinch his cute, rosy cheeks all the goddamn time. After all, he was on top of the world!

Seriously though, the film is terrific. Moses Wine is a gumshoe and divorced dad who's perpetually late on support payments to his exasperated ex, Suzanne (Bonnie Bedelia). When former flame Lila Shay (Susan Anspach) comes back into his life and asks him to investigate possible sabotage on the campaign of one Miles Hawthorne, a dull liberal running for Governor of California, everything goes haywire.

It seems that someone has been passing around fake flyers on which '60s radical Howard Eppis (now living underground after a famous conviction) is shown endorsing Hawthorne. Since associating with a known criminal and wanted man could sink the whole campaign, Moses is sent off by ambitious campaign manager Sam Sebastian (John Lithgow) to find the elusive Eppis.

Eppis (F. Murray Abraham) is a prankster activist whose appearance and notoriety were obviously modeled after real-life radical Abbie Hoffman (who was living underground at the time the film was made), with a bit of Weathermen-esque violence thrown in for good measure. As Moses draws closer to Eppis and to the answers, a torrent of nostalgia for the '60s rains down upon the film so intensely that you're gonna miss the good old days even if you weren't even a glimmer in your hippie mom's eye at the time.

I could easily watch a series of five or six Moses Wise films, in which the pot-smoking P.I. takes his kids on stakeouts and solves mysteries in his yellow convertible VW Bug.

Halfway through this film my movie date turned to me and asked "who's the Richard Dreyfuss of today?", and I have to admit we were both stumped. Please weigh in on this important question, loyal readers.

The Last of Sheila

Herbert Ross | 1973 | 120 mins | USA

I love gambling in a video store on something I've never heard of that either has an interesting cast, an curious sounding description or some other factor that will, on the basis of the box alone, compel me to rent it (or, if it's a dollar rack in a used store, buy it - see: Impulse, for an example of how this strategy can be incredibly successful).

The Last of Sheila was just such a video store gamble, and one that worked out amazingly well. The all-star cast and intriguing plot were enticing, but I wasn't really and truly sold until I discovered on the back cover of the video box that this film was co-written by Stephen Sondheim and Anthony Perkins. Just the thought of those two drunk queens sitting around some beachside villa and coming up with the story for this Hollywood insider whodunit was so appealing, I couldn't resist.

The story goes like this. James Coburn is Clinton Green, a rich, mean (but oh so funny) producer whose wife Sheila was killed in a hit and run accident a year earlier. Incredibly wealthy and clearly successful, Clinton has invited all the people who were there on the night of Sheila's death to spend a week on his yacht (aptly named Sheila), discussing the possibility of making a film about her life. In attendance are Philip the director (James Mason); Tom the writer (Richard Benjamin) and his rich wife, Lee (Joan Hackett); Christine the talent agent (Dyan Cannon), Alice the sexy starlet (Raquel Welch) and her rough-around-the-edges Brit boyfriend, Anthony (Ian McShane).

All six cloying guests are a bit too desperate to work on a hit picture, so they naturally go along with Clinton's desire to play a little game. Each is given an index card which reveals a secret crime that occurred in the past. The others must discover the identity of each "criminal" through a series of clues and activities while they are in port. Soon the guests start to realize the game may be more than a bit of fun, as real secrets from their own pasts start coming out to haunt them.

Is any of this connected to Sheila's death, or is the host just playing a cruel joke on his travel companions? As tensions and suspicion rise on the boat, everyone starts to wonder whether they've seen or heard the last of Sheila.

This film really made me wonder where the hell Richard Benjamin's been lately. Shouldn't he be playing all the roles that keep going to Alan Alda?

The Thin Man

W.S. Van Dyke | 1934 | 93 mins | USA

If you find the this-year's-Juno tone of the advertising for Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist unappealing at best, why not treat yourself to the original Nick and Nora, the quick witted, silver tongued, utterly charming pair from the Thin Man films. This was my thinking the other night when I finally rented The Thin Man, a mid-30s whodunit that I'd always meant to see but never had.

Nick and Nora Charles (William Powell and Myrna Loy) are a married couple whose wedded bliss seems to consist of a never ending string of quick witted conversations had over an array of appetizing cocktails. No hangover is bad enough to keep tomorrow's party from happening, or crippling enough to keep the jokes from flowing.

When we first meet the duo, Nick (an ex-detective) is in a bar teaching the bartender how to shake a martini (always to a Waltz rhythm, apparently). Nora (his sassy, rich, fabulously independently-minded wife) joins him at the table, orders a martini and immediately asks him how many drinks he's had. Upon learning that he's on his sixth, she beckons the waiter to bring her five more. Hard not to fall in love with them, right?

Nick and Nora are in New York for Christmas, and even though Nick's retired from sleuthing, the disappearance of an old friend, inventor Clyde Wynant, under seemingly shady circumstances threatens to bring him back into the game. It doesn't help matters much that the missing man's money-hungry ex wife Mimi and his loving daughter Dorothy (Maureen O'Sullivan - you might know her as Jane from 1932's Tarzan the Ape Man and about four other early Tarzan films) desperately want Nick to take the case. Not to mention the fact that an assortment of underworld characters (including Mimi's new beau, played by a very young and swarthy Cesar Romero) all assume he's involved from the get go.

When the simple missing person's case leads to a young woman's murder, the sleuthing marrieds have no choice but to get more deeply involved. In what would become a staple of all six Thin Man films, the debonair Nick Charles invites all those involved over for a dramatic showdown. What better way to solve a murder than by having the suspects for dinner?

This terrific comedy/mystery privileges witty banter and razor-sharp wit over action and suspense, and is a much more memorable film because of it. Plus, Myrna Loy's costumes are out of this world.

Oh, if only married life were an eternal cocktail hour full of quips as sharp as olive spears!

L'instinct de mort (Public Enemy Number One: Part One) - Work in Progress

Jean-François Richet | 2008 | 114 min | France/Canada

Vincent Cassel stars as notorious French gangster, Jacques Mesrine in this action-biopic that is competent and entertaining enough but in no way original. It feels like a dozen other rise and fall mob movies, only it's in French.

Cassel is good as Mesrine but he's a much better actor than the performance he gives here. The big surprise of the film is Gerard Depardieu as an overweight Italian mob boss who Mesrine works for. Maybe his believability as an Italian could be challenged but not his believability as a weathered heavy who commands respect and who won't hesitate for a moment to get his hands dirty if blood needs to be shed.

L'instinct de Mort is a solid film that entertains, but at just under two hours long, and being only the first half of the story, let's hope that the rest of Mesrine's life is what warrants being made into a film (or two in this case).

In The Shadow of the Naga

Nasorn Panungkasiri | 2008 | 94 mins | Thailand

At first glance, the description of In The Shadow of the Naga makes it sound a lot like the Martin Lawrence joint Blue Streak. Somewhat unfortunately though, that's where the similarities end.

A trio of criminals - Parn, Por and Singh - return to the spot where one of them dumped their stash a few months before, only to find that a Buddhist temple has been rather hurriedly erected on the spot. The solution is obvious: they must coerce the elder monk into ordaining them so that they can stay in the nearby monastery while they dig for their money.

Parn and Singh are charismatic and masculine, dangerous criminals who wouldn't hesitate to besmirch the good name of the monkhood to get their way. Por, in contrast, is plagued with guilt over what they are doing and opts not to get ordained with his co-conspirators. While Por seeks some absolution in Buddhism, Parn and Singh become increasingly frustrated by the difficulties of finding their money. When Singh's sassy prostitute wife intrudes upon the scene, the undercurrents of tension and violence threaten to explode.

Parts of the plot of In the Shadow of the Naga are a bit difficult to piece together, but the moral lessons are pretty clear. Shady dealings and shocking secrets are hinted at, but so obscurely that by the dramatic climax it's a bit difficult to know who the good guys and bad guys really are. Interesting, but maybe not actually superior to Blue Streak.

Nothing But The Truth

Rod Lurie | 2008 | 108 mins | USA

An American political drama starring Kate Beckinsale and David Schwimmer is pretty much the complete opposite of what I like to see at TIFF, but the screening I wanted to get into was sold out, so I decided to give Rod Lurie (Resurrecting the Champ, The Contender) a chance to not suck.

Very loosely based on the real case of Valerie Plame, whose status as a CIA agent was exposed in the media after her husband (a US Ambassador) wrote a New York Times piece charging the Bush administration with manipulating their intel to justify invading Iraq.

In the film, Iraq has been replaced with Venezuela, and reporter Rachel Armstrong (played by Kate Beckinsale) goes to prison to protect her source. Beckinsale’s efforts will undoubtedly be touted as a real ‘breakout performance’, but I actually preferred Vera Farmiga’s portrayal of CIA soccer mom Erica Van Doren.

Unfortunately, if you’re paying one iota of attention to anything happening on screen, you’ll figure out the identity of the mysterious source within the first 15 minutes, and the rest of the film will seem like a clumsy martyrdom story in which a principled woman is surrounded by cold hearted zealots who, if they only knew what she was doing it for …

Matt Dillon is actually pretty alright as the special prosecutor, but the real accolades belong to Alan Alda, the defense attorney whose absurd non-sequitur expressions are the only glimmers of true entertainment in the film.

David Schwimmer plays Beckinsale’s spineless disappointment of a husband. He’s perfect for the role. Wait for this one on DVD, if you're a Matt Dillon completist.

Gomorrah

Matteo Garrone | 2008 | 135 min | Italy

The Gomorrah are one of Italy's largest crime organizations, but until now, nobody has dared make a film about them. If they're really as dangerous as that suggests, I'm not quite sure why the makers of Gomorrah decided to use them as the subjects of their film. There is rarely mention of its characters' names, so it could just as well have been any crime organization. That said, Gomorrah is a near masterpiece.

The film bounces back and forth between different members of the Gomorrah without much connecting the characters (with some exceptions) or concern for plot. It's a day-in-the-life-of-mobsters style script that covers territory I've never seen in a gangster film before. Among the most interesting is the production of garments as a source of income, waste disposal, and an apartment project that's inhabited solely by members of the clan.

Taking its time to follow characters like a garment maker, a money delivery man, a young boy just getting his feet wet in the organization, a pair of men responsible for landfilling toxic waste, and a couple of ignorantly cocksure teenagers, Gomorrah paints one of the most complete and compelling portraits of mob life to be put on film. Everything is presented so matter of factly and without judgment. The film's best performances are by its confident teens who have aspirations of taking over. They're so good that they seem like actual stupid teenagers who want to be big time gangsters, that the filmmakers have given guns to and have encouraged to be as reckless as possible while they film it. They're beyond compelling. The acting in Gomorrah is all for the most part, extremely natural and believable. A very rare thing for a gangster film.

After ninety or so minutes of brilliantly executed character observation, Garonne decides to take the typical gangster film route and give each character a violent denouement that undoes a lot of what is special about the film that precedes it. Regardless, Gomorrah is an incredible film and will hopefully be recognized with time as one of the best gangster films ever made.

JCVD

Mabrouk El Mechri | 2008 | 96 min | Belgium, France

Imagine Jean-Claude Van Damme starring in a seventies Sidney Lumet crime film. Now imagine that Van Damme is excellent in this film. Try very, very hard. Got it? That's JCVD. For reals.

JCVD is essentially about a desperate man trapped in a heist gone wrong. That desperate man happens to be action star Jean-Claude Van Damme, played by the man himself. Perhaps interesting enough on its own, but on top of that premise director Mabrouk El Mechri layers material about Van Damme's custody battle with his wife, his financial troubles, and the nature of (fading) celebrity. The final product is as interesting an homage to fame you will get outside of Being John Malkovich.

There are plenty of mentions of Van Damme's drug use, his problems with women, his troubled past with his family, and his position as Belgium's only export to Hollywood. At times JCVD is very personal and as El Mechri stated at the screening, there is no way this film would have the same weight with any other star.

Van Damme is playing "himself" but it is a slightly fictionalized version, due in part to the intervention of lawyers and in part to Van Damme's need for some degree of privacy and separation. However, El Mechri does a wonderful job weaving in and out of the real and fictional lives to create a film that is highly entertaining and surprisingly moving. At one point Van Damme delivers a lengthy, one-take monologue that will surprise a lot of viewers.

Though it suffers a bit from numerous flashbacks and perspectives which unnecessarily repeat some information, for the most part JCVD is taut and striking, both visually and textually. This feature may be a bit too in-jokey for everyone to enjoy, but El Mechri will most definitely be delivering some great films in the future.

Before the Devil Knows You're Dead

Sidney Lumet | 2007 | 117 min | US

Philip Seymour Hoffman and Ethan Hawke play Andy and Hank, two brothers who possess veneers of success and failure, respectively. Both are in serious financial trouble, however, and when Andy devises a plan to get them out of their holes Hank seizes the opportunity. But what is intended to be an easy insider job results in the death of their mother, and the shock waves that follow irreparably change the lives of everyone around them.

Though not a perfect film, it is a solid effort. Sidney Lumet proves capable, of course, although the stylistic flourishes of Devil seem slightly out of touch. Jumping around the timeline seems like an attempt to keep up with current film, though it is unnecessary, slightly clumsy, and not so current at all. The story ultimately follows a linear progression, and we learn nothing more by being thrown back and forth along the way. Another issue with the pacing is that the ending feels strangely truncated. There is a wide and obvious gap begging for closure while another thread is closed up neatly. A bit of an irritation.

Hoffman turns in his standard rock-solid performance as the "successful" son who's addictions have begun outpacing his lifestyle. He elevates the material and those around him considerably. Marisa Tomei and Albert Finney do terrific work, and even Hawke seems back on point playing opposite Hoffman. The story doesn't allow any big surprises (the biggest shock is in the opening minutes of the film), but the film is even and assured, despite a couple stylistic missteps. The performances are what push Before the Devil Knows You're Dead into the company of very good contemporary crime films.

The Manchurian Candidate

John Frankenheimer | 1962 | 126 mins | USA

There are some movies that I feel a bit ashamed to admit I haven’t seen yet. Classics, all-time favourites, 1st year film class must-haves, that sort of thing. Until last night, The Manchurian Candidate was one of those movies. Well, no more!

The story concerns Raymond Shaw, an insufferably no-fun soldier who’s just returned from the Korean War to receive a Congressional Medal of Honour. He's a bit put off by all the attention (or maybe he's just a prickly guy) and attempts to escape the hype immediately by moving to New York to work for a newspaperman. The hoo-ha is largely drummed up by his domineering, ambitious mother (Angela Lansbury – who knew the delightful old lady from Murder She Wrote could be so perfectly grating?) who tries to use him to help her puppet husband’s political campaigns.

Meanwhile, Shaw’s C.O., the charming and handsome Major Marco (Frank Sinatra, who is just so much dreamier in his serious roles) has been having some strange nightmares, in which their platoon is being held at a bizarre garden party, watching a brainwashed Shaw murder their colleagues and follow orders from an array of Russian Generals.

Are the nightmares a fantasy or a glimpse into the grim reality of what really happened in Korea? That’s the question, and Frankenheimer answers it very heavy handedly, but not without some skillful twists and turns. This film is, in case you didn’t glean it from my description, ABOUT COMMUNISM. You can make up your own mind about what’s more sinister, though – the covert communists secretly lurking in our midst or the ones who walk openly among us, disguised and undetected!

Side note: I had no idea till I happened upon it on IMDB today that Jonathan Demme remade this film in 2004. That was a retarded idea, Jonathan Demme.

Paranoid Park

Gus Van Sant | 2007 | 85 min | US

Gus Van Sant does some serious channeling of Harmony Korine's youthful verve for this picture in an attempted return to relevance. And it works! We follow a young skateboarder named Alex around his involvement with the accidental death of a security guard. At the film's start Alex is being interviewed by a detective who knows little more than the guard was hit by a skateboard near an infamous skate park and squat. It's a crime story in that it is centered around a criminal act, but Paranoid Park is captivating in how it weaves through adolescent awkwardness and guilt.

Park is loaded down with non-actors, which sometimes works wonderfully and sometimes fails miserably, often within the same scene. The first time you hear the voice-over you will wince, but in the context of a sixteen-year-old uncomfortably reading thoughts from his private journal, it makes perfect sense. The gracelessness forced into the picture is exactly the kind one would expect from teenagers trying to navigate love lives, family break ups, and other events out of their control.

Playing off of the turbulence of the characters is some gorgeous direction and sound design. The extended slow motion skate scenes shot in a Portland park and unlikely song selections from Fellini films turn the discord of the story on its head. Van Sant introduces several moments that allow for breaks in the stress while impressing on us the romance of a teenager just becoming involved in a new subculture.

After a bit a break from "good" it looks like Van Sant is back on his game. The world of Paranoid Park is gripping, beautiful, and authentic.