Roman J. Israel, Esq. (2017)

Amid my evolution from a trailer addict to a moviegoer who’d almost rather not see a preview for fear of having the whole movie spoiled, along comes Roman J. Israel, Esq., for which I’d seen nary a poster, let alone a trailer. While I’ve been burned more than a few times by trailers that give away an entire plot, this film flew entirely under my radar – all the more surprising, given it stars Denzel “Best Actor” Washington and comes from writer/director Dan Gilroy (who kept me awake one night with that masterfully unnerving Nightcrawler). In hindsight, I’m very glad not to have encountered a trailer for the film – not just because I’ve since learned the trailer unflinchingly gives away all the surprises (honestly, avoid at all costs), but because I genuinely didn’t know what to expect from Roman J. Israel, Esq. and enjoyed it all the more for it.

Denzel Washington stars as the eponymous attorney, self-conscious and awkward despite being a sharp legal mind and a faded major player in the civil rights movement. After his partner takes ill, Roman J. Israel, Esq. finds he must navigate himself into an unfamiliar world, where the legal game is sharkier than ever (epitomized by Colin Farrell’s lean turn as George Pierce) and the social justice game has changed, which Roman learns when he seeks employment with activist Maya (Carmen Ejogo).

Denzel Washington’s performance in and as Roman J. Israel, Esq. is like a great big tree. Not because it’s wooden – far from it, Denzel turns in a nuanced and offbeat performance unlike anything I’ve seen from him and yet irresistibly compelling as we try to figure out what to make of a man like Roman. No, he’s like an enormous tree in that it’s difficult not to stand in amazement at him once you stumble upon this untrumpeted performance. Indeed, there are moments in the film when even the other actors seem to be quite taken by Denzel; the expressions on their faces seem to supplant their scripted dialogue with, “Holy socks, I’m in a scene with Denzel Washington!” Not that I blame them: it’s hard enough merely watching someone else in a scene alongside the perennially mesmerizing Denzel.

As he did in Nightcrawler, Gilroy presents a curious specimen, indisputably a product of his times, and puts him in situations where his moral fiber can be tested. Washington proves himself more than capable of handling a character as demanding as Roman, giving the character weight with which the audience must wrestle. When Roman makes difficult choices, it’s difficult to determine our allegiances because we see Roman as concretely human, entirely understandable and yet somewhat inscrutable. When characters tell Roman about his inspirational value and his legacy as an activist, we buy it, because Denzel wears the history of Roman Israel with as much grace and comfort as he does the character’s trademark afro. (Has an afro been as iconic since Pulp Fiction? You decide.) And in the film’s final moments, Denzel brings to astonishing life the tough choices Roman faces, makes a decision that seems at once bewildering and entirely consistent with his character, and then leaves the final judgment to us. Where it was perhaps easier to render a verdict in Nightcrawler, Roman J. Israel, Esq. ends up more prickly, gladly indigestible.

Roman J. Israel, Esq. is a very strong character study, so I was both surprised and disappointed to see that the trailer cast its titular attorney as an irreverent, speak-his-mind throwback – which, don’t get me wrong, is certainly a part of his character, but it’s a reductionist view that looks only at one set of creative decisions. The film includes one of the most uncomfortable job interviews committed to film, imbued with such heartening pathos as Roman quite literally chokes on his own pride during a job interview and barely stammers his way through handing over a business card. Elsewhere we see the struggle between Roman’s code of conduct and the demands of the world in an encounter with a homeless man, throwing into question issues of perception and how stereotypes lead to false conclusions. Through it all, Denzel & Gilroy are careful to treat Roman with all his intricate layers rather than stack personality traits without understanding the core of the character.

One of the standout sequences of Roman J. Israel, Esq. takes its protagonist to the beach for a sequence which is entirely wordless, save for a moment when Roman orders a gourmet doughnut. It’s the sort of scene that, in nearly any other movie, would have been filler, designed to hawk a hit single on the soundtrack or pad out a runtime by trying to seem deep. But Denzel & Gilroy find ways to make the scene immensely potent, calling back to a throwaway one-liner and turning it into a turning point for the character. I can’t remember the last time a doughnut figured so pivotally into a film’s plot (think Forest Whitaker scarfing down evidence in Taken 3, but those were bagels), but then I can’t remember a film that snuck up on me like Roman J. Israel, Esq. did. I can’t remember the last time a command performance like Denzel’s singlehandedly elevated a movie that might otherwise have been lightly unmemorable and turned it into a late-season must-see. But then, I don’t know what else I could have expected from Denzel Washington.

Roman J. Israel, Esq. is rated PG-13 for “language and some violence.” Written and directed by Dan Gilroy. Starring Denzel Washington, Colin Farrell, and Carmen Ejogo.

Monday at the Movies - April 15, 2013

Welcome to this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.”  It’s Clarence Darrow’s 156th birthday this Thursday (April 18), so in tribute we’ve got a few films loosely based on his most famous cases.

Compulsion (1959) – One of my most frequent complaints about certain movies is that they’re confused about their own identities; when two plotlines, atmospheres, and/or themes collide, it’s usually bad news for a movie.  But when a film’s second half is as amazing as Compulsion’s, it makes up for – and even goes so far as to dwarf – a lackluster first hour.  Richard Fleischer’s adaptation of the Leopold and Loeb case stars Bradford Dillman and Dean Stockwell as the killers in what begins as a lurid sensationalist pulp about schoolmates who read Nietzsche and fancy themselves übermenschen.  I wasn’t thrilled with the acting, which seemed a bit overwrought and as homoerotic as the Hays Code would allow (meaning the plot never develops this subtext, alternatingly highlighting then suppressing the implications).  But if the first hour seems unimpressive, stay tuned; E. G. Marshall (the implacable Juror #4 in 12 Angry Men) appears as the district attorney, signaling that you’re in for a treat – when the defense attorney shows up, it’s none other than Orson Welles as Clarence Darrow (here, Jonathan Wilk).  With all his larger-than-life gusto, Welles steals the film with subdued world-weariness (“I am sorry that I have lived so long”).  The judicial battle between Welles and Marshall culminates in Welles delivering a riveting ten-minute closing argument pleading for the lives of his clients while admitting their guilt; if the first half of the film is dominated by the compulsion to kill, the second half is all about Welles’s conviction, delivered like a master’s class in monologue.  In short, Compulsion is a passable film with an astounding conclusion, made all the more amazing by the mesmerizing performance of Orson Welles.

Inherit the Wind (1960) – The marketing materials for this Stanley Kramer courtroom drama herald the film’s connection to the Scopes “monkey trial” of 1925, and the film is certainly of interest to those interested in how we remember our past on film.  But the real stand-out element of Inherit the Wind is the electrifying dynamic between leads Spencer Tracy and Frederic March as Henry Drummond (Clarence Darrow) and Matthew Harrison Brady (William Jennings Bryan).  The film covers the whole trial as well as a portrait of the town of Hillsboro, but the unmistakable highlight is what happens in the courtroom – especially the astoundingly explosive exchange between Drummond and Brady on the stand, a scene that features both men at the top of their game.  Like 12 Angry Men, Inherit the Wind is based on the play of the same name, which accounts for the snappy dialogue, delivered in unforgettable speeches by Tracy and March.  The subject matter, too, is brainy and eloquent, asking smart questions about the nature of thought and the importance of belief.  In particular, pay attention to the character of E. K. Hornbeck (Mencken by way of Gene Kelly), whose droll witticisms mask a dearth of principals; I’d never paid much attention to Hornbeck before, but his relationship with Drummond seems key – evidence that the film is smarter than a reductionist agnostic-vs.-fundamentalist interpretation.  But even with the brain switched off, Inherit the Wind positively sizzles; Kramer gives us the hottest courtroom in recent memory and stages his scenes for maximum intensity.  Though the first hour is slower than the second, it’s not a detriment to the film, nor can I recommend Inherit the Wind highly enough.

That does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We’ll see you here next week!

Monday at the Movies - April 9, 2012

Welcome to Week Fifteen of “Monday at the Movies.” We’re back to the three-film template with three “genre flicks”: a musical, a meta-mockumentary, and a remake.

Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008) – I have a hesitant affection for the Saw franchise (mostly redeemed by Tobin Bell’s star-marking performance), so this Darren Lynn Bousman rock opera is something I’ve orbited but to which I’ve never committed. While I’m no foe of musicals, the cast seemed a mixed bag: Paul Sorvino and Anthony Head on the one hand, Paris Hilton on the other. All told, Repo! is an odd hybrid of Sweeney Todd and the Saw franchise, with a dollop of dystopia thrown in for set dressing. Make no mistake – this is an opera, with generational rises and falls punctuated by bombastic solos and Sondheim-esque talk-singing. Sorvino is Rotti Largo, the dying organ transplant baron in search of a new heir after his brood (including Hilton as the surgery addict Amber Sweet); he finds one in Shilo (Spy Kids alum Alexa Vega), the daughter of his top organ-collecting repo man (Anthony Head). Among the film’s greatest strengths is its highly stylized look, ready-made for the Hot Topic crowd, and its rich plot, whipping between multiple threads which all tie together at the opera-within-an-opera finale. Unfortunately, though, the runtime is a little brief, and each plot thread is introduced with an exposition-heavy montage which might have been better served with a more extended flashback or musical sequence. Additionally, the film will turn off many with its gruesome violence (blood flows, intestines spill, and a face even falls off) and its musical style (more rhythmic slam poetry than melodious harmony), but I found it an enjoyable enough 90-some minutes.

Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story (2006) – Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon (best known as “those guys in the Michael Caine impressions video”) star in this metafictional adaptation of Laurence Sterne’s famously sprawling proto-postmodern novel, at once a filming of the book and a mockumentary on the making of said filming. After finally reading Tristram Shandy, I went back to the film, and my suspicions were confirmed – the film has many more jokes for those in the know, but it’s at its best when Coogan and Brydon are turned loose upon each other in a battle of one-ups-manship and celebrity impersonations. We begin with a riveting conversation in the makeup chairs, move to a half-hour adaptation of the first few volumes of the novel, and conclude with a failed preview screening of the failed film. There’s about 45 minutes that are almost entirely negligible, dwelling on Coogan’s self-caricature and ruminating a bit too much on the unfilmability of the novel. As a result, it’s easy to get distracted once the film stops showing the straight adaptation segments, especially in the moments when Coogan and Brydon are kept apart. There are a few clever bits, as when Gillian Anderson is cast to play the Widow Wadman, but this is a plot that doesn’t get as much attention as it ought. I’ll say this, though; rewatching Tristram Shandy has reminded me how much I still need to see The Trip, in which Coogan and Brydon team up for a restaurant road trip.

12 Angry Men (1997) – Having glowingly reviewed the Sidney Lumet original last week, I was delighted to see that the remake is available on YouTube. I was even more delighted by the all-star cast – Jack Lemmon, George C. Scott, Ossie Davis, and James Gandolfini, among others. But almost immediately I realized this was a case of a remake which doesn’t do enough to distance itself from the original, nor does it remain slavishly loyal in apparent devotion. Instead, it’s an indistinct reflection of the original, right down to imitative line readings (especially from Tony Danza as Juror #7). While Lemmon does gravitas without even thinking about it, he’s a far cry from Henry Fonda, and even Scott doesn’t improve upon the performance of Lee J. Cobb. Indeed, the only performance which adds something to the film is Mykelti Williamson’s turn as Juror #10; here the white supremacist Ed Begley is replaced by a lapsed member of the Nation of Islam, spouting bigotry against the Hispanic defendant. This clever update, however, is overshadowed by the fact that the film frequently oversimplifies itself, telling instead of showing, as when Juror #3’s bias against the defendant is verbalized instead of implied (as in the original). While it’s in theory a good idea to put contemporary actors into an old classic, when they don’t turn in a new or interesting product, even Juror #12 – straight out of Mad Men – couldn’t sell it to an audience. Stick with the original; this one’s guilty of stagnation.

That does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We’ll see you here next week!

Monday at the Movies - April 2, 2012

Welcome to Week Fourteen of “Monday at the Movies.” Only one film this week, but it’s a heck of a film – easily one of the best films of all time.

12 Angry Men (1957) – It’s always difficult to write reviews for excellent films, because what is there to be said beyond how perfect the film is? I’ve been a fan of Sidney Lumet for many years now, and going back to his first theatrical film is one of the greatest pleasures I have when I teach this film every semester. This is a story that’s frequently referenced (and even remade in 1997), its account of one man’s holdout for justice by now legendary. Henry Fonda is Juror #8, a brilliant rhetorician thirsty for the truth; #3, Lee J. Cobb, is the loudest voice in favor of the defendant’s guilt, and a cast of all-stars – each of whom gets their moment to shine – fills the deliberation room. Lumet is as always the master of tension, as best demonstrated by the fact that the camera never leaves the room and we never learn the characters’ names. These performances are among the top in any movie I’ve seen: dynamic, exciting, and memorable. Fonda’s is, of course, rightly the most important role in the film, and he bears the weight with aplomb, light when needed but continually imbued with the gravitas we have come to expect from him. The script, adapted from Reginald Rose’s play, retains the style of the theatrical play, but the work of Lumet and his cast never allow the film to feel stagey. Instead we have the best of what cinema can do – 12 Angry Men is affective, dramatic, engaging, and thought-provoking.

That does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We’ll see you here next week!

Monday at the Movies - January 23, 2012

Welcome to the fourth weekly installment of “Monday at the Movies,” in which we find ourselves once more pigeonholed into reviewing movies that begin with the same letter. This edition of “Monday at the Movies” is brought to you by the letter “A.”

Adam’s Rib (1949) – I’ll not waste much time here and begin by saying that Adam’s Rib is one of my all-time favorite movies, and it’s easily the greatest of the nine films Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn made together. It’s also an extremely progressive picture, anticipating much of the women’s lib movement as well as advancing the cause of equality of the sexes long before the country at large embraced those ideas. Hepburn and Tracy play married attorneys Amanda and Adam Bonner, who find themselves on opposite sides of a case in which a woman attempted to shoot her philandering husband. The chemistry between the two is unindictable, as usual, but the Ruth Gordon/Garson Kanin screenplay is solid, witty in all the right places but genuine and earnest in the moments when the relationship of the Bonners is tested by the case. On this latest rewatch (I’ve seen this film dozens of times since discovering it back in high school), I realized just how frequently the scene gets stolen, and surprisingly it’s not Judy Holliday who does the stealing. It’s David Wayne as Kip, the flamboyant musician who lives across the hall and harbors a strange infatuation with Amanda; the highlight scene of the whole film is easily when Kip performs his new song “Farewell, Amanda” for the Bonners, only one of whom is receptive. But it’s the relationship between Hepburn and Tracy that keeps me coming back to this film, because the way they play off each other is so pitch-perfect that it’ll make even the most embittered cynic feel romantic.

Ayn Rand and the Prophecy of Atlas Shrugged (2011) – I believe this is the first nonfiction film I’ve reviewed for this site, and it almost didn’t happen until the DVD release. While there was never any doubt that I’d be seeing this movie at some point (Atlas Shrugged being my favorite book of all time – and there go the readers), it took two free tickets to one of the very limited screenings to get there. Chris Mortensen’s documentary is music to the ears of Rand’s disciples, poison to those who despise her work, and downright antithetical to those who’ve never read her stuff yet loathe her anyway. The documentary begins with a biographical sketch, delves full-force into the composition and publication of Atlas Shrugged and the attempts to film it, and concludes with an overview of the Rand resurgence in our culture today. The title, however, is a bit misleading; I went in expecting a profile on the ways in which Atlas Shrugged anticipated today’s economic/political scene, but what I got was more of an overview. It’s a good introduction to new initiates in the Objectivist school of thought or even for those curious what all the hoopla is about, but for those who have done a fair amount of reading on the subject (as, in all honesty, I have) there isn’t much new here. Of particular interest: Scene-stealer Al Ruddy reveals just how close he came to producing an Atlas Shrugged movie after The Godfather, right down to locking in Clint Eastwood and Faye Dunaway (perfect casting). While worth a look, this documentary doesn’t introduce much to the conversation surrounding the Objectivist revival; the really good stuff is in the last fifteen minutes, leading me to hope for a “sequel” of sorts exploring those matters in greater depth.

That does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We’ll see you here next week!

Find Me Guilty (2006)

I never thought I'd say these words, but here goes: I enjoyed a Vin Diesel movie.

Sidney Lumet's 2006 courtroom drama/comedy (my third Lumet film this summer... noticing a pattern yet?) Find Me Guilty suffers from what I like to call "Brad Pitt in Twelve Monkeys" syndrome. This condition of cinema (which will probably soon be retitled "Heath Ledger in The Dark Knight") is not something that speaks ill of the film. Instead, it's high praise for a performance that steps so far outside of the otherwise humdrum career of a lackluster actor and allows the person in question to actually ACT.

The actor in question here is Vin Diesel, who plays Jackie DiNorscio, a New York mobster who elects to defend himself in what becomes the longest trial in federal court history. Though he has no legal experience - save for his self-profession that he's "spent half of my life in jail" - "Jackie Dee" actually does a serviceable job defending himself against an elaborate case built by professional prosecutors.

Chalk it up to Lumet, who I'm sure is responsible for getting this knockdown bang-up performance out of Diesel. After all, this is a guy whose credits include The Pacifier and three Fast and Furious movies. So I wasn't expecting a stellar performance, but Diesel surprises here, virtually unrecognizable as he steps into the shoes of DiNorscio. Other performances here of note include Peter Dinklage as another defense lawyer, who seems miscast because he seems underused; Alex "Moe Greene" Rocco as the surly mob boss at the top of the trial; and Annabella Sciorra, who boils up the screen in her one scene as Jackie's wife.

The screenplay is electrifyingly humorous, with much of the courtroom dialogue allegedly taken from actual court transcripts. If the percent of actual dialogue is as high as a title card leads me to believe, this must have been a real circus to see! Of course, too, Lumet's direction is all right, but nothing calls attention to the direction as in some of his other projects.

One down note on the film is that the momentum it builds in the courtroom scenes - which is considerable and hysterical - is lost in some of the other scenes, so the movie feels like it drags its heels in a few spots. It's also a disappointment to read that, in real life, the jury in the case had been bribed.

The movie on its own, though, as a whole, is perhaps not Sidney Lumet's best work, but it's unquestionably Diesel's best work to date.