REVIEW: A Most Violent Year

The wintry landscape of New York in the 1980s forms the backdrop of this all-American drama, which centres around the difficulties in establishing a clean business in a crime-ridden town. In this case it's an oil company run by entrepreneur Abel Morales (Oscar Isaac) who, with the help of his attorney Andrew (Albert Brooks) and wife Anna (Jessica Chastain), strikes a deal with a group of Jewish Chassidem, which will give him access to a valued oil terminal on the East River.

The problem is, though, that their oil trucks are regularly being hijacked and stolen by criminals, not to mention the investigation of their company by a persistent District Attorney (David Oyelowo). With only thirty days to gather the money required to save the deal - and therefore the business - Morales must do everything he can while still remaining true to his morality and the law.

If that sounds dull I wouldn't worry about it too much. Director J.C. Chandor has made a career out of making films with potentially mind-numbingly boring subject matter; Margin Call was a film about bankers talking about the stock exchange, while All Is Lost was a dialogue-free 105 minutes about a guy on a boat. But both were extraordinarily compelling experiences, glossily professional yet bursting from the seams with substance, and A Most Violent Year is no exception. It's a smart and tough piece, evocative of its period without ever descending into pastiche, and it treats its audience with a respect lacking in many other films of its type. While there are some action sequences, such as an effectively tense car chase through the gutters of the city, it's a film where the real drama happens behind closed doors, in meetings at restaurants or dim offices, where powerful men attempt to curry valuable political favour among each other. The dialogue crackles with danger even though there's no actual threat here - this isn't Scorsese, a conversation won't end in a shootout, but it's to Chandor's credit that these scenes just as exciting.

Having said that, I do feel it's his weakest film so far. At times it feels like a very high-budget television production, the kind you'd find on BBC2 at 9PM on a Sunday. It's not necessarily an insult - some of the smartest stuff airs on television nowadays - but you can't but wonder if it's really making the best use of its cinematic medium. Although it should be said that the drama is elevated by its performances. Oscar Isaac is on fire right now, clearly making the most of his thoroughly-due recognition from Inside Llewyn Davis, and he plays the lead with a complicated sensitivity (it might be his most likeable role yet). Jessica Chastain is arguably even better, playing a tough-as-nails woman who feels she has been unfairly side-lined, and tries to exert a powerful presence anyway. It's a shame she doesn't have more screen time - the scenes between her and Isaac, where she chastises him for being unable to step up and defend their family, are thoroughly captivating.

In the end it's a film worth seeing. It ruminates effectively on the cost of achieving (that dreaded phrase) "the American Dream", which still seems relevant today - in many ways it's a period companion piece to the neoliberal Margin Call, and its powerful climax certainly brings to the forefront the theme that a rapidly-growing, ruthless business creates as many victims as it does victors. But as I left the cinema I couldn't help but wonder if A Most Violent Year was a touch too slight to justify the price of the ticket.

★★★½

SPOTLIGHT: Don Hertzfeldt

Cast your mind back to 2012. What was the best animated film released that year? I'll help jog your memory: no, it was not Pixar's pleasant but inferior Scottish parable Brave, even though it won an Oscar. It wasn't video game love letter Wreck-It Ralph either, even though it should have won the Oscar. "Para-Norman", I hear you chant. Nope, not even close. It wasn't Tim Burton's Frankenweenie either, although we're getting warmer. And as charming as French buddy-movie Ernest & Celestine was, it's still not the one I'm thinking of.

The best animated film released in 2012 was It's Such A Beautiful Day. Admittedly a compilation of three hand-drawn, animated shorts - Everything Will Be OK, I Am So Proud of You, and It's Such A Beautiful Day, released in 2006, 2008, and 2011 respectively - but compiled together in 2012 with enough new material to flesh it out into a 60-minute long film, it's one of the strangest, most ambitious reflections on life, death, and the universe I've ever seen. The most striking thing about it, however, is that it's all the effort of a single animator from California: Don Hertzfeldt.

"Who?"

Unlike, say, John Lasseter or Hayao Miyazaki, Hertzfeldt is not a household name, possibly because he spends most of his time in his basement carefully constructing each frame of his work. He's also not the kind of guy whose work frequents the public domain: his films' primary exposure to the world is through festival circuits, such as Sundance (where he's won the Short Film award twice) or through late-night showings on Cartoon Network.

It's equally likely, though, that if you've spent enough time on the internet - particularly YouTube - you'll have seen something by Don Hertzfeldt, even if you didn't know it. One of his most famous bits is the surreal comedy short The Animation Show, a collaboration with King of the Hill's Mike Judge that centres around two talking clouds trying to teach the audience about the endless possibilities of the animated medium. Which I suppose it does, only its inclusion of flying unicorns and psychedelic dream sequences places its appeal in the same league as Cartoon Network's Adventure Time, or the animated videos of prolific YouTube star Tom Ska - inventive, ironic flights of fantasy and randomness that are packed with enough surrealist catchphrases to satisfy the internet's primary audience of young teenagers.

But this comparison doesn't do justice to the complexity of Hertzfeldt's work, whose comedy often acts as a mask for the more disturbing aspects of his soul. Take his Oscar-nominated short Rejected, for example, which begins as a series of darkly comedic takes on commercialisation but soon develops into a Lynchian nightmare, as the wacky characters are destroyed by their own creator. Or his multi-award winning student film Billy the Balloon, where children are murdered by multicoloured, innocent-looking balloons. They're undoubtedly amusing but seem to be the products of a tortured creative mind; it should hardly be a surprise that Hertzfeldt's production company is titled "Bitter Films".

Let's return to It's Such A Beautiful Day, then. Even by Hertzfeldt's standards this is an exceptional film, which acts as both an existential cry of despair and a profound reflection on the cruel beauty of the world. I suspect much of its key appeal comes from its strange concept: Bill is a middle-aged guy who's got a brain tumour of some sort (the specifics are never revealed) that's making him somewhat forgetful. Like most of Hertzfeldt's work he's drawn as a crude stick man, whose only identifying feature is his hat. But it's to the story's credit that he feels like a fully fleshed-out character, and we explore his mind at first through his daily routine, then through flashbacks and experimental asides using colour and real photography. Uniting it all is Hertzfeldt's own narration; his dry intonation may actually be the weakest part of the film, but it's essential for constructing his unique and (I suspect) deeply personal vision.

Again, just describing the film doesn't do it justice. It's packed full of ideas and images that are so affecting you barely have time to process it all until afterwards, when you sit in stunned silence as the credits roll. The best moments come when music, image, and the story's ideas about the great and small come together in perfect harmony, such as a sequence where Bill watches rain fall on a bus window to the tune of Wagner's Das Rheingold Prelude, or in a flashback where he watches his crippled brother chase a seagull into the ocean and drown. It's a funny film, too - the aside about his family's unfortunate history with trains is a highlight - but this only serves to make the story's tragic focus on death more poignant, the narrative flights into the cosmos (Bill wants to be ejected into space after his death) more transcendent. It sounds terribly depressing, and it is, but it's also a masterpiece in the same vein as Terrence Malick's The Tree of Life, a must-watch for fans of animation and its detractors alike.

And more importantly it's his masterpiece. In an age where animation is a thoroughly industrial affair, where Pixar and Disney have the ability to churn out films every other year, it's refreshing to see one man's singular talents celebrated. Don Hertzfeldt might just be one of our few real artists.

It's Such A Beautiful Day is now available on Netflix (UK) and Vimeo. His latest short film, World of Tomorrow, will be released on March 31 at bitterfilms.com. You can watch the trailer for it here.

NEWS: The Oscars

So it looks like I was a bit wrong. No, not just about Best Adapted Screenplay.

Let me say first that I don't think for one second that Birdman didn't deserve to win a Best Picture Oscar. I loved that film like nobody's business (I gave it five stars!), it had a great screenplay, it was beautifully shot, and had a really good director behind it - dodgy digs at Mexicans aside, Iñárritu's victory was one of the highlights of a (boring) show. And even when you take into account the rest of the awards doled out on the night, I'll be the first to admit that this has been a really good year for cinema - the fact that films like Selma and Foxcatcher only managed to make a peripheral impact at awards season says a lot.

But in ten years, when we're in the pub and trying to answer a deviously difficult question about 2015's Oscar ceremony, we won't be thinking of Birdman, or J. K. Simmons, or Lady Gaga, or even Neil Patrick Harris' tighty whities.

We'll be thinking, "Was that the year Boyhood didn't win?"

FEATURE: Oscar Predictions

I posted this article to The Boar, but it got cut down and mangled in the edit, so here it is in all its uncensored glory.

The Oscars are a silly business. Everyone in Hollywood seems to pretend they don't care about this back-slapping event up until the night itself, at which point they either get worked up if they win or have a sulk if they lose. It's a fever that engulfs most of the Western hemisphere until it's all over by March, when we all return to our boring lives.

I'm a prime culprit of someone who succumbs to awards fever, simply because it's quite good fun. Last year I championed Gravity, even when most of the people I knew found it 'cool' to criticise its inaccurate science and plot. For a time I was very irritating at parties, and this year I'm supporting Boyhood in a similar way - I think it should win every award going for it, and it might just do that - it's certainly a front-runner in some important categories. But will it lose out to Birdman, the film which made acting and directing cool again? Or will the more traditional biopic The Theory of Everything take the crown? Will the Cinematography award be unjustly denied to Dick Poop? There's only one way to find out, but until the night there's no reason we can't make some predictions...



BEST ACTOR

Who will win: Michael Keaton/Eddie Redmayne
Who should win: Eddie Redmayne

It's a difficult category to be in this year. I feel particularly sorry for Steve Carell, whose brilliant performance in Foxcatcher would have had a chance if he'd rightly been nominated in the Best Supporting Actor category. But this year it's all about two guys: Eddie Redmayne in The Theory of Everything and Michael Keaton in Birdman. In any other year Redmayne's transformative performance as Steven Hawking would all but guarantee a win - it's the kind of thing the Academy love, and reminded me of Daniel Day Lewis' winning role in My Left Foot. But they love a comeback story too, and Keaton performance, rooted in his personal history as an actor, might just have the edge. Might. Officially too close to call.

BEST ACTRESS

Who will win: Julianne Moore
Who should win: Rosamund Pike

Julianne Moore's been on a role so far, scooping up awards all over the place for her performance as a woman with Alzheimer's in Still Alice. And in many ways this feels like her year - she gave a great performance in David Cronenberg's Maps to the Stars, which won her an award at Cannes, and an Oscar for the actress is nothing if not overdue. But she's also facing some strong competition, namely Reese Witherspoon in Wild and Felicity Jones in The Theory of Everything. As for who I'll be rooting for, I'm still drawn to the brilliant Rosamund Pike in Gone Girl - she's the British underdog, who won't win but should be recognised for a performance that scared the pants off me.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR

Who will win: J.K. Simmons
Who should win: J.K. Simmons

No qualms here. Simmons has been sweeping the awards circuit and there's no reason why he won't win here - his physically ferocious music teacher in Whiplash is one of the most iconic cinematic creations in ages. I'll be using his scathing put-downs for years to come.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS

Who will win: Patricia Arquette
Who should win: Patricia Arquette

Again, the supporting categories are on a lock this year, and that's no bad thing. Arquette hasn't been relevant in about a decade, but she's never stopped being brilliant, and in Boyhood she displayed this as the beating, bruised heart of the family. Applause, lovely speech, let's move on.

BEST DIRECTOR

Who will win: Alejandro González Iñárritu
Who should win: Richard Linklater

In what might be the most contentious category this year we've got two very different kinds of talent going up against each other. On the one hand, you have Iñárritu's flashy and visually creative Birdman, which wouldn't have been such a drunk pleasure without its director's firm grip. On the other you have Boyhood, which feels so effortlessly naturalistic that its director's talents might be overshadowed by its more obvious accomplishments. But I'm firm supporter of Richard Linklater, whose philosophy I find so much more appealing than Iñárritu's - he has such an enduring faith in the human spirit, and treats his audience with respect rather than hostility, something which I'm sure that the Academy will appreciate. It'll be a close one, though.

BEST FILM

Who will win: Boyhood
Who should win: Boyhood

It's the big one, and it should come as no surprise that this film is the frontrunner for both the Academy and myself. Everyone I've spoken to loves this film, audiences and critics alike, and I can't see that changing any time soon. It's remarkable in its perfection as a miraculous finished product, and it's definitely the kind of thing that the Academy understand and appreciate. I don't know, maybe Selma will win just to prove that they're not all racist, but I think it's unlikely that anything will take Boyhood's rightful crown.

THE OTHER AWARDS

The major awards are usually quite limited in the scope of films that they allow, but there's more breathing room in the lesser categories. Best Original Score has some good nominees, and my favourite still stands at Alexandre Desplat's excellent and funny score for The Grand Budapest Hotel. Writing should - and likely will - go to Whiplash and Birdman for Adapted and Original Screenplay respectively, though it would be nice if Foxcatcher or Nightcrawler won at least one thing.

The Foreign Language Film award will likely go to Leviathan, certainly my favourite pick of the nominees. Editing and Cinematography should, again, go to Whiplash and Birdman, though both The Grand Budapest Hotel and the under-represented Mr. Turner are astonishing visual creations. It'll be an interesting dual between Steve Carell's fake nose in Foxcatcher and Zoe Saldana's green face in Guardians of the Galaxy for Best Makeup. And The Lego Movie How to Train Your Dragon 2 will probably win best Animated Feature Film, though I've heard good things about The Tale of the Princess Kaguya.

Ultimately, the Oscars are a waste of time, but every year I always tune in (with a few drinks) to see how it all turns out. I could be wrong about every single one of my predictions, but hey, that's part of the fun, right?

TV REVIEW: Better Call Saul

Season 1, Episode 1: "Uno" and Episode 2: "Mijo"

Vince Gilligan and Peter Gould had the most unenviable job in television this time last year: how to follow up Breaking Bad, a show which turned the entire Western hemisphere into binge-watching evangelists, whose sole purpose was to recommend this show under the promise that it was the televisual equivalent of the second coming of Jesus. Its reputation threatens not only to overshadow but to completely engulf anything Gilligan and his team will create in the future, for the fact that Breaking Bad was such a surprising runaway success among audiences and critics alike has set a high precedent that, realistically, cannot be lived up to.

In many ways, then, creating Better Call Saul is the riskiest thing they could have done. Going back to the same universe sans the presence of cancer-ridden anti-hero Walter White (Bryan Cranston, off making insurance commercials) and hood-rat-with-a-heart-of-gold Jessie Pinkman (Aaron Paul) seems counter-intuitive, for every step of the process is in danger of being unfavourably compared to its forerunner by a rabid online fanbase. It even does the thing some shows do of taking a character with a defined niche - Saul Goodman (Bob Odenkirk) was a dose of much-needed comic relief - and seeing if they survive by themselves in a new environment, like a newborn baby deer. But can Better Call Saul stand up by itself (Frasier) or does it collapse into a placenta-filled mess (Joey)?

It shouldn't surprise you that it's definitely the former, and for precisely the reason I was so concerned: it's more of what we loved from Breaking Bad. Sure, the focus and time period is different - we open in the post-blue meth era, with a haggard Goodman in hiding watching old tapes of his infomercials, before flashing back to 2002, to see how the man became the cheerfully amoral lawyer we saw in Breaking Bad's second season. But fundamentally the two shows are the same, or at least similar. They're both about contemporary, commercial America, and they're both about two men who learn to define themselves through their money and reputation (one leads nicely to the other, it's just getting there in the first place that's the trouble).

Of course, Better Call Saul sets itself apart by losing the cancer and drugs and turning its gaze to the world of public law. When we first see Goodman - sporting his original name, Jimmy McGill - he's living in the back of a Chinese laundromat and turning tricks for change at the local public court. It's not enough to make a living, particularly when he has an ill father to look after (who seems to be allergic to electricity), and it's why he jumps at the opportunity to represent a client who has committed a serious form of bank fraud. It's a tricky set up, de-familiarising much of what we know about the character - he's noticeably greener and more straight-laced, and reminds us of the stark contrast between the bumbling Walter White standing in his underwear in the pilot and the merciless embodiment of drug lord Heisenberg by the series' end.

Crucially the series is funnier than its predecessor, which is most evident in the pilot episode "Uno". From the darkly ludicrous antics at the courthouse involving a severed head to the sequence where McGill and two skateboarders concoct a scam where they hurl themselves at cars, it feels like a show which revels in the more absurd elements of the criminal underworld, even more so than Breaking Bad. There's also a huge debt to Bob Odenkirk, whose character could be quite annoying but stays on the right side of our sympathies by expressing vulnerability and humanity in place of unctuousness. Evidently our hero will change (for the worse) as the series goes on as he's tempted into moral ambiguity, but if this beginning is anything to go by Odenkirk can handle the dramatic material with ease - his transformation should be nothing less than compelling.

So if "Uno" is our set up episode, then "Mijo" is where the series really comes to life. Following the shocking but entirely welcome reappearance of a familiar character we get that old Breaking Bad buzz of excitement and danger, none more so in a brilliant scene where key characters Take A Ride Into The Desert (never good). McGill shows the first hints of his Goodman persona here, as he negotiates in lawyerly fashion over the severity of punishment for the two aforementioned skater boys (they settle for breaking legs). Simultaneously hilarious and brutally queasy, it proves that it's another show that works best when it's violent, frightening, unpredictable. Odenkirk describes the series as "85 percent drama, 15 percent comedy", and it's clear that it's the darkest of drama that really makes the comedy come to life.

I'm sure Better Call Saul will have its detractors, maybe even for its cloth being too closely cut from its predecessor. But it's no bad thing - Gilligan and his team have proven themselves capable of managing an audience's expectations, creating exciting and fresh drama with a consistent ease, and this has the potential to be a great show.

THE BOAR: Leviathan & Wolf Hall

Here's my review for edgy Russian film Leviathan, a.k.a. the film that should have replaced Jodorowsky's Dune on my Top 10 list...

...and here's my review of the first episode of BBC1's new costume drama Wolf Hall. There'll be an Oscar predictions article surfacing eventually too, so stay tuned...