FILM REVIEW: MARTHA MARCY MAY MARLENE

20th Century Fox Films
Now Showing



Hype is never a good thing for a film, especially one which you have to wait too long to see. Martha Marcy May Marlene was probably more heavily praised than hyped, but having to wait almost 12 months to see writer-director Sean Durkin's directorial feature debut, which premiered at the Sundance Film Festival in January 2011, was never going to help.

Not that the wait - or the hype - is entirely the fault of the film; I missed the chance to see it at the Sydney Film Festival back in June of 2011. Conversely, Martha Marcy's absence from the current Hollywood awards season probably helped lower my expectations for the film.

That's not to say that Durkin's film, or the central performance by Elizabeth Olsen (the source of most of the hype and awards buzz), is bad or even a disappointment. Overrated perhaps, but again, not entirely the fault of the film.

We first meet Martha (Olsen), or Marcy May, when she decides to escape from a cult she has fallen in with in upstate New York. Marcy May is the name given to her by the cult's charismatic leader, Patrick (an effectively creepy John Hawkes), whose spell she at first falls under but whose ways - sexual abuse of the female members, violence against people whose homes they raid for food, money and supplies - finally prove too much.

Martha seeks refuge in the Connecticut home of her older sister, Lucy (Sarah Paulson), and Lucy's architect husband, Max (Hugh Dancy), but she is unable to shake her memories of her time with Patrick - the film flashes back and forth between the present in Connecticut and her past with the cult - or the fear that his followers will arrive at any moment to take her back.

Matters aren't helped by the attitudes of Lucy, who abandoned Martha to relatives while she attended college following their parents' death, and Max, both seemingly indifferent to, and with an out right lack of sympathy for Martha's wildly inconsistent moods and continual unravelling.

Elizabeth Olsen is transfixing as Martha/Marcy May (the Marlene from the title is the generic name the women of the cult use when answering the phone). Olsen's rounded face is simultaneously watchable yet predominantly void of expression; sunny and bright in her early days with Patrick's group, she perfectly conveys the mental fragility and state of anxiety in which Martha exists following her escape.

Olsen's aided greatly by Durkin who sets the unsettling tone early on. There is a pervading sense of dread throughout Martha Marcy almost from the beginning. We observe the daily rituals of the cult which seem innocent enough, but once Martha makes a break for it, the tension kicks in and a sense of unease persists through to the final credits.

And the ending of Martha Marcy has upset some audiences, leaving them feeling short changed by Durkin; that the abruptness of the ending is a cop out. But I'm less inclined to anger. Not necessarily one for closure or full disclosure, I much prefer that the film ends before the seemingly inevitable climax that is alluded to earlier in the film, and which I had been dreading.

The ending as it stands could be viewed as either a strength or a weakness of the first time feature director, but Durkin - along with Olsen - has announced his arrival, and I will be interested to see what both talents, sans hype, do next .

FILM REVIEW: J. EDGAR

Warner Bros. Films
Now Showing




If windows are the eyes to the soul, then J. Edgar Hoover, founder of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, possessed a very dark soul indeed. As effectively portrayed by Leonardo DiCaprio, Hoover's eyes are a beady black, revealing very little white and nary a glint as though in a permanent squint; always thinking, always analysing people and situations.

Perhaps that made him the best candidate to found the organisation which treated crime fighting as more than a job but a science. Of course, it would too easily explain why such a man - one with a zeal for justice and a strong anti-communist bent - would abuse the power of the office he held for some 50 years.

J. Edgar, Clint Eastwood's biopic penned by Oscar-winning scribe (for Milk, 2008) Dustin Lance Black, serves as a potted history of the United States in the first half of the 20th century, as well as a study of a man who dedicated his life to his work and success at all costs; leaving little time for a social life, friends or lovers.

Other than his mother (a vinegary Judi Dench), the only people Hoover takes into his confidence are his personal secretary, Helen Gandy (Naomi Watts), who rebuffs his marriage proposal but proceeds to loyally man his office for five decades, and Clyde Tolson (a dapper Armie Hammer), a law graduate who fast becomes Hoover's #2 man in the office and his #1 man away from it. (The film does everything to suggest the two men were "in love" if not lovers.)

Much like the man himself, J. Edgar is torn between what it is and what it wants to be: a study of a complicated man whose public life was at cross purposes with his private emotions. And much of that confusion stems as much from Black's screenplay as it does the historical figure himself, for while Hoover's official life was a matter of public record, his personal life remains purely speculative.

Black's and Eastwood's handling of the Edgar-Tolson relationship is, for the most part, as coy as the two men themselves; Hammer's Tolsen looks at DiCaprio's Hoover with undisguised admiration, a goofy smile always upon his face. And while they may dine together twice a day, every day, and occasionally hold hands, there ain't nothing dirty going on.

But those intimate moments we do witness, including one melodoramatic moment in a hotel room, but particularly in the men's old age - the film spans 50-odd years, flashing back and forth as Hoover recounts his story to a succession of handsome young FBI agents - hints at an altogether different, more interesting film.

Eastwood's handling of the political aspects of Hoover's career and impact, however, are less successful. When Hoover meets with the sitting U.S. president - he served eight of them, keeping secret files on each - the effect is almost laughable; President Nixon (Christopher Shyer) and Robert Kennedy (Jeffrey Donovan) are borderline pantomime caricatures. Other notable events, such as the kidnapping of the Lindbergh baby, are similarly unconvincing.

Still, as a film attempting to examine the human side of a reviled conservative political figure, J. Edgar is more successful than the recent The Iron Lady, where Meryl Streep brilliantly portrayed an aged Margaret Thatcher but which saw director, Phyllida Lloyd, and screenwriter, Abi Morgan, skimp on the British PM's less than perfect time in office and the socio-political fallout.

Whether J. Edgar paints a sympathetic portrait of a reviled man, one who attempted to blackmail Dr Martin Luther King (whom he deemed an enemy of the State) to prevent him accepting the Nobel Peace Prize, may well depend on your politics. For mine, Eastwood and Black's even-handedness sees Hoover remain unlikeable if not entirely evil, black beady eyes not withstanding.

FILM REVIEW: WEEKEND

Rialto Distribution
Now Showing
Limited release*





While Weekend owes a minor debt to the lo-fi, two-hander films Before Sunrise (1995) and Before Sunset (2004) - Richard Linklater's wonderful walk-and-talk pieces about possible soul mates, played by Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke - writer-director Andrew Haigh's second feature is very much an original, and arguably far more emotionally resonant.

When out on a Friday night, Russell (Tom Cullen) meets Glen (Chris New), or we assume he does. We don't witness the meet-cute but the pair wake up the next morning in Russell's bed. The previous night is a bit of a blur to them both, although Glen distinctly remembers rescuing Russell "from Gollum", a less than attractive potential pick-up.

Glen is an artist, and just happens to have brought along his dictaphone, hoping to involve Russell in an impromptu interview for a project he's working on. Russell, not surprisingly, is reticent at first; he's reserved by nature as opposed to Glen's more forthright demeanour. They are polar opposites, but could they also be soul mates?

What begins as a one night stand quickly takes on another dimension; the pair agreeing to meet up after Russell's shift at the local aquatic centre - where he works as a lifeguard and endures the lunch room sex talk of his straight co-workers (presumably Russell isn't out to all) - where a night-in with food, wine, drugs, sex and lots of conversation ensues.

Gay or straight, audiences shouldn't have trouble identifying with the characters and situations in Weekend. Haigh, who also edited Ridley Scott's Gladiator (2000), deals with a universe of emotion which is less about sexuality - though it is refreshing to see three dimensional gay characters front and centre - and more about connection.

Newcomers Tom Cullen and Chris New give perfectly realised performances: subtlely nuanced, full of humour and heart, and real. Cullen's Russell is a quiet man whose sexuality is not his defining feature; New's Glen is, by comparison, an extrovert who believes everything one says and does is a statement if not necessarily a political one.

Whether that statement is a declaration of love is tempered somewhat, as is the couple's entire weekend, by the imminent departure of Glen; he's heading to the U.S. where he's enrolled in a two-year arts course, leaving that Sunday evening. Will he go? Will he stay? Will love prevail?

Weekend is not a rom-com, and Andrew Haigh isn't interested in pat, audience-comforting resolutions; real life is never that simple. But I, for one, would be eager for Haigh, Cullen and New to revisit Russell and Glen in the near future, a la Before Sunrise and Before Sunset. Another Weekend, perhaps?

*Also screening as part of the 2012 Mardi Gras Film Festival

FILM REVIEW: YOUNG ADULT

Paramount Pictures
Now Showing




When Julia Roberts set out for Chicago to win back her ex-college beau from the matrimonial clutches of the chocolate-covered Cameron Diaz in P.J. Hogan's 1997 rom-com, My Best Friend's Wedding, she pulled out all the stops. It was the first time the star had used her flaming mange and mega-watt smile for evil instead of good, subverting our expectations of both the rom-com and its leading lady in the process.

Young Adult isn't a rom-com but a darkly comic tale which similarly sees its beautiful but troubled anti-heroine, Mavis Gary (Charlize Theron), return to her home town of Mercury, Minnesota to win back her high school sweet heart, Buddy Slade (Patrick Wilson).

Never mind that Buddy is happily married and a recent first time father: Mavis views Buddy's situation as a domestic prison and she's come to break him out, friends and family be damned.

And Theron sinks her teeth into the monstrous role which doesn't require the prosthetics of her Oscar-winning turn in Patty Jenkins' Monster (2003): Mavis radiates ugly.

But director, Jason Retman, and screenwriter, Diablo Cody (teaming up for the first time since their 2007 Oscar-winning effort, Juno), aren't conducting a study in bitchery or setting Mavis up for an epiphany-inducing fall.

There may be a rude awakening in-store for this A-grade bitch who ruled the hallways of her high school and became a minor celebrity in her hometown - first by getting out of it, and then for her success as a published author (well, ghost writer) of a teen serial - but Young Adult is made of darker stuff, and not at all concerned with redemption.

That makes the film both bold and rare. There have been plenty of films where the protagonist has been unlikeable, but more often than not they recognise the error of their ways and perform a 180 degree character turn in the third act: all's well that ends well. That's not the case here.

Mavis Gary is profoundly unhappy, as attested to by her almost-permanent inebriated state and her string of instantly regrettable one night stands (the opening sequences of Young Adult succinctly sets up the pattern of Mavis's life perfectly). Of course, Mavis is a "success", so if she is unhappy, then it stands to reason that Buddy, or anyone who remained in Mercury, must be even more unhappy than she.

Anyone who grew up in a small town and managed to "escape" will recognise pieces of themselves in Theron's Mavis Gary. Whether the narcissism, superiority complex or the lingering if inexplicable unhappiness, her predicament is identifiable however extreme. Mavis is a grotesque but she's no less real for that, and Theron, Reitman and Cody ensure we never lose sight of the human beneath the horrid behaviour.

Matt Freehauf (Patton Oswalt) certainly doesn't. A vaguely remembered classmate (they had neighbouring lockers), Matt bumps into Mavis on her first night back in town (at a bar no less), and immediately sees her for what she is. He's not afraid to call her on all her many faults or, as required, to call a spade a f**king evil bitch. But Matt is also the closest thing to a friend Mavis will find upon her return to Mercury.

Theron and Oswalt (star of the Cody-created TV show, United States of Tara, but best known as the voice of Remy the rat in Pixar's Ratatouille (2007)) make for one of the best odd-couple pairings of the year. A somewhat comic inversion of the Beauty and the Beast paradigm, the two make for excellent sparring partners, whose barbs not only bruise but sometimes cut deep.

The same goes for Young Adult. As much as you laugh at Mavis Gary's self destructive homecoming, you'll spend just as much time tut-tutting or cringing. Failure to connect with Mavis may result in a failure to connect with the film - the darkest, most adult work Reitman and Cody have done to date - but I'd recommend you take that risk.

Besides, you can always go home afterwards and watch My Best Friend's Wedding to get that bitter after-taste out of your mouth. Getting Young Adult out from under your skin, however, may prove somewhat harder.