TIFF '11: Day Three

Wuthering Heights
Director/Country/Time: Andrea Arnold/United Kingdom/128 min.
Cast: Kaya Scodelario, James Howson, Shannon Beer
Program: Special Presentations
Headline: Anti-Masterpiece Theater
Scott’s Take: Andrea Arnold’s radical upending of the frilly costume drama opens with a statement of purpose: Our introduction to Heathcliff, one-half of the doomed couple at the center of Emily Brontë’s novel, finds him alone in a dimly appointed farmhouse in mid-1800s Yorkshire, throwing himself against the wall masochistically and beating his forehead bloody. Outside in the arid, craggy, fog-choked landscape, the wind persistently howls and the sky remains persistently gray-black. There’s no relief from the physical and emotional brutality of Arnold’s Wuthering Heights, which thoroughly rejects the expected arthouse treatment in reducing the book to raw, primal emotion. Working without well-known actors, Arnold minimizes the dialogue to such an extent that the characters, Heathcliff in particular, react to each other simply and at times territorially. Flashing back to Heathcliff’s arrival at the farmhouse—where his mixed-race and brusque manner draws sharply contrasting reactions—Arnold builds his relationship with Catherine on an accumulation of non-verbal gestures, and the unsparing landscape itself tells much of the story. Though Wuthering Heights can get too precious in its Malickian visual style—ditto Arnold’s Fish Tank—and the severity of it obliterates nuance for the sake of unvarnished power. Yet the harshness allows those fleeting moments of tenderness to pop like a desert bloom.
Grade: A-
A Better Life
Director/Country/Time: Cédric Kahn/France/110 min.
Cast: Guillaume Canet, Leïla Bekhti, Slimane Khettabi
Program: Special Presentations
Headline: Better can’t make your life better
Noel’s Take: I got excited about 10 minutes in to Cédric Kahn’s episodic melodrama A Better Life, right around the time that an irresponsible Paris chef played by Guillaume Canet and his Lebanese girlfriend Leila Bekhti sat down with a banker to discuss the details of Canet’s plan to open a restaurant next to a lake in the woods. I love occupational procedurals, so I was looking forward to a nuanced drama about what it takes to make it in the upscale foodie game these days. Alas, no. Kahn and his co-screenwriter Catherine Paillé have other plans. It doesn’t take long for the hero’s fast-and-loose approach to his finances to waylay his plans, and to send Bekhti on an extended trip to Canada to make some money, leaving Canet in charge of her pre-teen son. At that point, A Better Life becomes about a grueling case study in how dreams get modified as time and circumstance intervene. That’s a profound theme to explore—or would be, if Canet’s character weren’t such a screw-up and his misfortunes didn’t mount so ridiculously high. As it is, it’s hard to derive much from the movie beyond the moment-to-moment drama of the protagonist’s predicament. (Which, admittedly, is fairly gripping.) Ordinarily, a gritty, realistic film like this would indict society or fate for what goes awry, but in A Better Life, Canet could resolve most of his financial troubles if he weren’t so stubborn, impatient, and short-sighted. And while that’s a novel direction for a movie to take, it’s a stunted one so far as audience engagement and identification go.
Grade: C+
The Descendants
Director/Country/Time: Alexander Payne/USA/115 min.
Cast: George Clooney, Shailene Woodley, Beau Bridges, Judy Greer
Program: Special Presentations
Headline: Aloha? Oy.
Noel’s Take: I never thought I’d see the day when I’d be more impressed with the visuals in an Alexander Payne film than in the writing or acting, but that’s exactly where I am with The Descendants, a muddled family drama that thrives primarily because of Payne’s staging. Always a master at using location, Payne takes a story set in Hawaii and largely avoids the “little slice of paradise” side of the islands (though he can’t avoid it entirely), instead showing the old family homes and office parks where Hawaiians actually spend their time. That fits with the plot of The Descendants, which has George Clooney playing a real estate lawyer and lifelong Hawaiian trying to resolve some family business while his wife spends her last few comatose days of life in a local hospital. Payne (adapting a novel by Kaui Hart Hemmings with co-screenwriters Nat Faxon and Jim Rash) aims to show how the outside perception of certain people as prosperous, fortunate, or even just happy is never as true as it may seem. And The Descendants does get that across, in scenes where people openly confront their families and their legacies, facing the messes they’ve made and the ones they just might leave behind if they’re not careful. (Really, the accumulation of family heirlooms and clutter in their respective homes tells a story all on its own.) But Clooney seems surprisingly at sea here, in a role that requires him to be more hurt and befuddled than suave. Or maybe it’s just that he doesn't know what to do with the dialogue, which is startlingly tin-eared at times, given the writerly gifts Payne has shown in movies like Election and Sideways. The movie suffers from backstory-heavy voice-over narration in its first half, followed by an excess of quirky laugh lines down the stretch, just when it seems to be finding a better rhythm. There’s a shameless crowd-pleasing element to The Descendants that holds it back from the truths about family relationship that it’s trying so hard to reach. Still, Clooney’s movielong journey from cousin-to-cousin and friend-to-friend—to deliver the news about his wife and to learn more about what she was up to before her accident—keeps the locations and tone shifting often enough to keep the story compelling, and the Hawaiian setting gives The Descendants a distinctive flavor that survives Payne’s efforts to bury it in schmalz.
Grade: B-
Extraterrestrial
Director/Country/Time: Nacho Vigalando/Spain/90 min.
Cast: Julián Villagrán, Michelle Jenner, Miguel Noguera
Program: Contemporary World Cinema
Headline: The invasion after the alien invasion
Noel’s Take: Writer-director Nacho Vigalondo’s debut feature Timecrimes made the most of tiny budget, using just a few locations and a few actors to tell a funny, exciting, and even poignant story set in an increasingly constricting time-loop. His second film tries to maintain that level of simplicity and tautness, but the outcome is less than stellar. Extraterrestrial begins with Julián Villagrán waking up in the apartment of Michelle Jenner, neither of them remembering how they ended up in bed together. Then Jenner’s boyfriend Miguel Noguera comes home. Also, there are huge spaceships hovering over Madrid, and the few people remaining in the city have scant information about what’s happening. Most of Extraterrestrial takes place in Jenner’s apartment, as Noguera makes plans to thwart the aliens, while the secret lovers try to hide their affair. I’m not sure whether Vigalondo intended to make a constrained alien invasion movie, and came up with the romantic triangle to add an extra layer of tension to Noguera’s efforts to ferret out aliens in disguise, or whether he’s using the invasion as a metaphor for Villagrán’s intrusion into another couple’s life. Either approach would’ve be fine, provided that it’d been supported by a script with lively dialogue, surprising plot twists, whatnot. Timecrimes had that; Extraterrestrial does not. Instead, it’s a lightly comic sci-fi movie in which not much happens and no one has much to say that’s all that amusing. As a fan of Timecrimes, I found this one to be a pretty crushing disappointment.
Grade: D+
Jeff, Who Lives At Home
Director/Country/Time: Jay and Mark Duplass/USA/83 min.
Cast: Jason Segel, Ed Helms, Susan Sarandon
Program: Special Presentations
Headline: Mumblecore Goes Hollywood
Scott’s Take: Since their no-budget debut The Puffy Chair, the Duplass Brothers have been inching closer to Hollywood—first with the faux/meta-horror movie Baghead, then with the mostly successful relationship comedy Cyrus, and now Jeff, Who Lives At Home, which puts them right in the whale’s belly. The good news about Jeff, Who Lives At Home is that Jason Segel and Ed Helms, playing screw-up brothers in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, are well-suited to the Duplass’ brand of shambling naturalism and offbeat comedy. The bad news is just about everything else, starting with the painfully quirky story about a basement-dwelling layabout (Segel) who turns a simple errand to buy wood glue for his mother (Susan Sarandon) into a date with destiny. Once Segel hooks up with Helms to follow the latter’s wife (Judy Greer), whom he suspects of cheating, the conflicts bear a closer resemblance to the real world. But then it’s back to fantasyland again when the all the storylines come together in a climactic deus ex machina more phony and ridiculous than the one mocked by Charlie Kaufman in Adaptation. The ending smacks either of tinkering by its major-studio distributor, Paramount Pictures, or a shameless effort to meet its expectations. Either way, it’s a laugher.
Grade: C