Review: "In Bruges"

Ray: But then, like a flash, it came to me. And I realized, fuck man, maybe that's what hell is: the entire rest of eternity spent in fuckin' Bruges.

Ray is played by Colin Farrell, the Irishman we haven't seen in a while, whose raw talent is, in this film, so raw, in fact, that it often overshadows his sheer, brooding irresistibility. Ray is a hitman who's already botched his first job, and he and his partner, jaded widower Ken (Brendan Gleeson), are subsequently sent into hiding in Bruges. Bruges is a fairy tale sort of place, full of mists and fantastic castles, the most well-preserved midieval town in Belgium. Ken has a quiet excitement about the whole thing. He sees his time in Bruges as a vacation, a moment to relax and to ride down canals, to see wonders made of stone and silver and gold. Ray, on the other hand, has little regard for history. He finds Bruges to be appalling, a cess pool for tedium, the opposite of Dublin or London or anything that thrives. He trails after Ken like a child, storming away when he becomes too bored or too cranky, taking jabs at historical landmarks and mocking Ken's desire to experience culture. In this way, we recognize father and son, the wise and the green. These aspects continue quite strongly throughout, through Bruges and the swelling chemistry it builds. The movie is, essentially, about two hitmen hiding out in a dank and unlikely town. They are to wait there, possibly for two whole weeks, to share a room in a local hotel, and to wait for a call from the boss. During their stay, they run into a movie set. A movie set in Bruges! How fabulous! Ray makes nice with Jimmy (Jordan Prentice), a strange, often intoxicated dwarf who also stars in the film's dream sequence. Ray also meets Chloe (Clemence Poesy), the pretty blond girl who slinks around the set, selling drugs to all the stars. Meanwhile, Ken gets his call from the boss, and, well, surprise! The Bruges outing was not merely a hide-away plot. Ken is to off Ray due to the mishap in the church, and Ken, shocked, terrified, reluctantly obliges. We stare wide-eyed and clutch our cheeks with dismay, but what is a hitman to do? When a hitman is told to hit, he hits. It's a job.

But while watching In Bruges, we learn: it's not just a job, because unlike so many other films about people wacking other people for money, the characters in this film have guts and hearts and souls and pasts, and there are things at stake that so many of us could never dream of understanding. Ken has followed a lone and deadly path, and he has learned to accept his fate. At one poignant moment, we listen closely as he describes the murder of his wife, and we can see the conflict, the sort of pain that comes etched in the bones. And Brendan Gleeson is just so good. He can alter gravity, turn from rough stone to a red bow tie, all with the flit of an eyelid. His weathered disposition is complimented, then, by the brutish sweet of Colin Farrell, whose character has only just begun to endure the pain that Ken has wielded for his entire adult existence.

Much of In Bruges focuses on Ray's inexperience, his youthful perspective and naivete, and how these qualities can leave him fresh and vulnerable to self-torment--especially in the wake of a recent mishap in the field. A few scenes into the movie, we learn about Ray's first hit, a gallant priest-hacking mid-confession, and how that hit went terribly, terribly wrong. Several fatal gunshots in, the priest hits the floor (success), only to reveal the form of a second casualty. Kneeling there, before an army of flickering candles, is a little boy, his face pale, mouth slightly open, a gunshot hole between his eyes. There is Ray, a daft and wounded child himself, staring blankly then, as the little boy crumples to the floor. And even though the boy is dead, and Ray killed him, and Ray is, by way of society, the worst sort of person there is, we, as an audience support him. We see the interchanging hues of fear and heartbreak in his eyes, how he shifts around behind them like a tired infant. "Save the next boy," Ken pleads, and as the tears come down Ray's cheeks and the little kids play in the park, the film becomes stunningly human. It is funny and it is dark, but the core has blood and guts. It is its own underbelly, set in the scenic romp of Bruges.

Finally, we're met with the boys' serpentine boss, Harry, who is played with creepy precision by Ralph Fiennes. No surprise there. Harry is twitchy and obsessive, unrelenting but twinkling with loopholes and, yes, an honorable man. Harry would not be so frightening, say, if Kenneth Brannaugh were to play the part, or, god forbid, Dustin Hoffman. It doesn't matter how much sleeze you can pack or shit you can fling, when it comes to tight-lipped businessmen with handsome faces and ulterior motives, Ralph is your guy. At the end of this movie, I stood up and looked over at my boyfriend, and we raised our eyebrows, and I said to him, "Ralph Fiennes scares me. I bet he's a very nice man in real life, but if I were to ever see him on the street, I would probably run away." There's not a hint of pervert, not a whiff of lunacy, just neatly pressed, overly calm intimidation. And to a movie that's otherwise, generally quite sweet, he brings a sense of darkened paranoia.

In Bruges is endowed with a wealth of talent. The performances brought me to quaint, silly smiles, sometimes to tears, so often to gut-clutching laughter. I loved it. Its soundtrack is lush with dejected classical tunes, slow turns on the piano that swell with something like regret. In Bruges is filled with irony. It has moments of sheer parallelism that might, in any other movie, seem overdone and under-thought. The characters are also filled with conflicting traits. Ray is impulsive and crass, violent and rude, but at the same time, he is soft enough to the win the heart of beautiful temptress Chloe. Ken is deadpan, jaded, and brazen, but he takes in Ray with such tender understanding. It is all written so well. I only wish there were more films as marvelous as In Bruges, films that regard their setting as if it were a character itself and that regard their characters as if the pasts they've derived from matter just as much as the present. It made me smile and cry and wonder. You'll see what I mean. Because the end is an entity all on its own, one that will stagger and stun, but, unlike so many blase dramas this side of the millenium, it's twist-free.

Plus, if there's anything I really, really want to do now, it's get on a plane, have a hearty scotch ale, and go to Bruges.

The Magic of "Enchanted"

Giselle: I remember this one time, when the poor wolf was being chased around by Little Red Riding Hood around his grandmother's house, and she had an axe... oh, and if Pip hadn't been walking by to help I don't know what would've happened!
Morgan Philip: I don't really remember that version.
Giselle: Well, that's because Red tells it a little differently.

After watching Enchanted, I did the dishes, and I sang, happily, to the tune of water and clanging metal. I haven't done chores with a cheerful state of mind since Christmas, and that was only once. I also thought seriously about throwing a Princess + Handsome Prince birthday party. Plus, I wanted to make out with Patrick Dempsey (even more than usual) and, especially, to re-watch Junebug, the splendid 2005 family drama in which Amy Adams plays a character very similar to the one she plays in Enchanted: an everlasting, rosy young girl who believes in a silver lining.

It is true that Amy Adams tends to be likable. She's a redhead with sparkly eyes, and her smile is like a light bulb. She's that bubbly girl that most other girls hated in high school. The one that intimidated all the boys and annoyed all of the teachers. In high school, it's sort of a bad rap, but in Hollywood, it's a rare gem. And I don't mean that there aren't other likable actresses. Sandra Bullock is, of course, Miss Congeniality on and off the screen, with the occasional less-likable (but still somehow a little likable) turn, as the one she did in Murder by Numbers. Meryl Streep, Prada-wearing devil that she is, can also be quite likable, and so can Julia Roberts (opposing LEAST likable actresses Natalie Portman, Glenn Close, and Scarlet Johanssen). But Amy Adams is REALLY likable. Even her name never dreams of imposing. Usually, people who are that likable make me uncomfortable, but she does not. She makes me want to stand up straighter, to smile more, to help an old lady with her groceries, to laugh until my gut hurts, and even to do housework. And if you know me, you know that's a big WTF. Amy Adams simply brims with, not just likability, but this inescapable bouyancy. She seemingly floats through the air, and it's this very thing that has made her one of my favorite modern actresses, along with Keira Knightley, Laura Linney, and Juliet Binoche.

It's also what really pulled me into Enchanted. To think, we haven't seen a decent Disney Princess movie since Aladdin, and now, almost a decade into the 21st century, amidst the magic of CGI and the pure genius of PIXAR, we're handed Enchanted, a keen adaption of all Disney Princess movies, about a fair maiden who, like so many Disney Princesses, summons animals with a song, enjoys grunt work, and makes dresses out of curtains. At some moments, it seems to skim the surface of parody. James Marsden's character, for example, is a blazingly handsome, overly narcissistic version of Prince Charming, who runs around New York with perfect confidence, weilding his sword at will. Also, the appearance of both a glass slipper and the old hag, as well as the "death by poisoned apple" plot, give Enchanted that comical edge. It is still its own fairy tale, however, as the real Prince Charming is a divorce lawyer from Manhattan who, while incredibly gorgeous, seems not to believe in true love. He also has a daughter, which is new and unusual for a Disney type, and while he may have a girlfriend, she is, by no means, evil. The two are simply wrong for each other, as she longs for fantastical romance while he no longer believes it exists. The ending, then, while predictable, is only natural and wholly satisfying. In an era where happy endings are often traded for more practical, ambiguous fade-outs, Enchanted's ending really refreshed me. Even Giselle, while a seemingly perfect Disney Princess archetype, does something that Disney Princesses have rarely done in the past: she changes. She develops new feelings and a new code. She trades endless, ignorant bliss for a future of the unknown. She falls in love with Robert (Dempsey's character) not because he is the first man she lays eyes on, but because he shows her kindness and respect. On the other hand, Robert falls in love with Giselle, not because she can offer him stability or reason, but because she offers hope. It's a fairy tale with emotional depth as well as good, evil, and spontaneous song.

In other words: Enchanted is simply fantastic. Yesterday, I was feeling under the weather, so I stayed home and watched three movies: Into the Wild, Murder by Numbers, and Enchantment. I must say that, while Into the Wild was a spectacular show with lots of pretty scenery and my fave Emile Hirsch, it was a little schmultzy for me. Its soundtrack was just WACK at times, and I found some of the scene work, as well as the chapter headings and the use of the journal entries, to be so early eighties. Like a return to The Outsiders with all the generic fonts and overly-wise turns of phrase. And yes, I'm aware that Sean Penn is, in general, overbearing in his craft. When he does anything, he saturates it with emotion. Sometimes it works. But a lot of Into the Wild didn't work for me. It was trying to be too important when I thought it should simply tell its story...sans all the frills and letting Emile just do his thing.

Then, I watched Murder by Numbers, which surprised me, because for whatever reason I've always wanted to see it, but I never expected it to be good. It was, however, very good. Ryan Gosling is superbly evil, vulnerable, and charming, all at the same time. Sandra Bullock is a praying mantis type who feeds on her men for sustenance, but only to fulfill her own insecurity. It's a visually barren, socially psychotic film. I don't really understand why they called it Murder by Numbers. Because of its title, I was expecting a Bone Collector type thriller with more clues and less depth. At first, I was a little disappointed at the lack of mystery, but then, when I learned that the mystery lies within the characters rather than the crime scenes, I was completely consumed.

Sorry for that little detour. As you can tell, I love reviewing movies. Anyway. The last movie I watched yesterday (before devoting myself entirely to both this article and Super Paper Mario, which I'm so close to beating it's not even funny) was Enchanted. And I've already talked about the movie a bunch, but here's a mini-review, just to keep things consistent with the previous two paragraphs. I love love loved this movie. It squeezed me and loved me back. I thought that the elements of the fairy tale were handled not only faithfully but with a definite modern twist. The songs were delightful, and I thought that the film, as a whole, was very conducive to adult audiences while maintaining a bright and wholesome core. It was innovative. And perfectly cast. Amy Adams and Patrick Dempsey have a whimsical chemistry, reminiscent of Kathryn Hepburn and Cary Grant in Bringing Up Baby. And no, I'm not exagerrating.

Honest to Blog: "Juno," revisited

It was early Saturday morning, and I had to go to work. Blerg. So did my bf, but his car's in the shop, so we hastened ourselves to the west side together where I dropped him off circa the mall and proceeded even further west to Excelsior Drive, where I bank for a day job. You see, this anecdote does have purpose, because in my car's six-disc-changer, there's "Juno: The Soundtrack," and right around the moment I turned left on Old Sauk, as the slow strumming of Cat Power's "Sea of Love" rose from the speakers, it hit me: I miss Juno MacGuff, and I have to see her again. So, as usual, that morning's four hours of work were more like four ours of gossip, minimal customer activity, and movies on ABC Family. It all ended at noon, when I stepped outside into the (gasp!) midday sun and drove about four minutes to Point Cinema where I was able to catch a 12:30 viewing of "Juno." For SIX DOLLARS. After spending a fortune on holiday cinema at the Sundance, (ie: two tix to "Sweeney Todd," 7:30pm, opening night = roughly $25; now multiply that times...uh...several), this was a fabulous bargain. Granted the quality of a Marcus Theater when placed next to a place like the Sundance leaves much to be desired, I still sat through the previews in full anticipation--me and the two old ladies up front, the old couple near the door, a group of bookclub women in the back, and the duo of high school girls one row up. One cannot deny that "Juno" is approaching the end of its theatrical run, but when one considers what a tumultuous run it's had, one also cannot complain.

So anyway, "It started with a chair."

While not quite as titular as this year's Daniel Day-Lewis wonder-quote ("I drink your milkshake!"), it's a pretty good first line. I can't say I've read into "Juno" quite like I've read into "There Will Be Blood," but I have thought about Miss MacGuff and why she'd begin her story with such an odd and deadpan preface. The voiceover throughout the film is sparse, but when it happens, it's a mixture of reminiscence and daydreams. The first line begins "Juno" much as "Once upon a time" begins any fairy tale. We see Juno gulping Sunny-D. We flash to her and her prince sharing a moment. Then, in the scenic location of a convenience store, the situation at hand is presented. Junebug's pregnant. I never quite understood her willingness for attention on the matter, or even her sheer nonchalance as she presents the "plus sign of death" to a possibly random employee, but I've chalked it up to this: Juno is, while not fearless or stoic, hardened. There's about a five second montage illustrating her abandonment by mom at a very young age. While the whole thing may seem passing, it's quite evocative. Love's longevity is a theme brought up much later in the film, but Juno's feelings about the whole situation are never truly revealed. We do, however, know she's damaged. Ellen Page gives it to us through her sheer control of subtlety. Throughout the film, Juno is quick and sarcastic. This part we got. But while she's always smart and always witty, she also gets herself into this strange, tangled relationship with adopting-father-to-be Mark Loring. She's naive. And while she seems utterly immune to the high school scrutiny of her burgeoning belly, she's still vulnerable when it comes to Paulie. She's hurt and offended when he decides to take soup girl to Prom. She assumes all along that he's traded their mistake for a go at normal teenage life, but what she doesn't realize (even though we all do), is that, while Paulie may have a million billion uncertainties in his lanky adolescence, the one thing, beyond all shadows of all doubts, that he is certain about is Juno.

And even though I adore all things about this movie, the thing that I adore most is Diablo Cody's reverent regard for teenagers. She's written them, not as narcissistic airheads with no respect for authority, but as regular human beings with brains and guts and hearts. I have to say that, as far as moments go, when Paulie Bleeker notices Juno's absence in the crowd after his race (where he set a new district record, might I add), it becomes obvious that what matters more to him than winning, than normalcy, than soup girl and a trip to some classmate's cabin, is Juno MacGuff. Of course, as previously stated, we all know that Paulie has loved Juno all along, but it's this moment that brings it all to such serious light. And it's the seriousness that I truly love. The crust of "Juno" is whimsical and hilarious, but the characters all seem to know that, at the very core of everything that's happened, there's a lot at stake. It's an important movie, but it's not a message movie. It's anchored in by quirky dialogue, wonderful characters and, of course, its performances.

And the performance that I enjoy most, aside that from Miss Ellen Page, comes from Jennifer Garner. She was viciously overlooked in the award season, but that doesn't matter now. I think of the unwavering consistency Jen brings in her portrayal of Vanessa Loring. How she pains over everything. Her perpetual hesitance. The sad, jaded desire in her eyes as she kneels down to feel the baby kick, and then the frantic disappointment when at first, she does not. It's a very moving performance, memorable to say the least. I like that, even as all begins to unfold, Vanessa remains intact. She grows throughout the movie, shows us that even while she sports an anal desire for things to be in working order, she can weather change. She truly is ready to be a mother. And we're all happy when, in the end, she finally is.

Well, I'm happy. "Juno" comes to DVD April 15th, 2008. It's still playing in theaters nationwide, in some places, for as little as $6.

DVDs to Love 2

"It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" (TV) - In a show full of characters who would become crack addicts simply to qualify for welfare, anything can happen. Perhaps that's why they call it "Seinfeld"...on crack. This show was produced for close-to-nothing by a couple of close-to-nobodies, and now it has become one of cable TV's nastiest little surprises. There's the gang: Dennis, Mac, Charlie, and Dee. And then, there's the bar: Patty's. Toss in a little Danny DeVito, the occasional abortion rally, a dumpster baby, hard liquor, maybe even a Jihad; then mash it all up with an INCREDIBLE amount of narcissism, and you've got the perfect concoction for a slap-happy night. Enjoy.


"Michael Clayton" - I reviewed this flick in January, just had another viewing on Saturday, and now I think I'll go buy it. This is an exquisite movie. It's a character sketch. It unfolds slowly, striking, so very poetic. There is this scene when Michael sees three wild horses on the side of the road. He goes to them, creating this moment of sheer, literary excellence. It's phantasmal, in a way. It haunts and haunts, and it's only about a minute long, just one minute out of the whole, evocative two hours that I never thought for a second I would fall so damn in love with. Had it been any other year, George Clooney would have been handed Oscar number two. Unfortunately, Daniel Day-Lewis, when he produces, is virtually untouchable. Either way, what an achievement.


"Jane Austen Book Club" - Greatest chick-flick since "Love Actually." There wasn't a moment of this film that I didn't enjoy. It's got decadence and (my favorite word) whimsy, hot guys and complex women. Basically, it's a room full of Elizabeth Bennets. There are no flailing Meg Ryan types or faux-empowered Kate Hudsons. To make a long story short, I picked up "Pride and Prejudice" for the first time in almost seven years the day after I saw "Jane Austen Book Club," and I've grown to appreciate it in ways I never knew possible.



"In the Valley of Elah" - This film is a thimble of sadness and truth. It's visceral. Tommy Lee Jones has a face like soft, malleable leather. I really appreciated Roger Ebert's review of this movie, because he spent so much time on the sheer gravity of Tommy's face. It's heavy and worn. Pockets of history fall from his eyes. His eyes--pebbles that have seen the maladies of the world; his hands--strong talons that have embraced them. I like this movie best of all the Paul Haggis gems. Even Million Dollar Baby. I feel that this film manages to be important without preaching anything. It's the only Iraq film that really did well in 2007--not in the Box Office, but in the critics' viewings--and for good reason. It approaches not with political agenda, but with a sickening sense of reality. I didn't feel anything after this movie, but that night, I awoke several times, dreaming of the sadness. But the film is well worth it. It's simple and straight forward. The direction and performances are seemingly unparalleled. Any other year it would have swept the Academy with ease.

"American Gangster" - Wow. I can't say I've ever been more surprised. I don't know what my deal was, but for whatever reason, I just underestimated this movie to the point that I would make up excuses for why I refused to see it. "I hear it's unrealistic." "I hear it's like black 'Godfather.'" But I was so, so wrong. Ridley Scott is in rare form for American Gangster. The film itself seems straight from the 1970s. It's saturated and raw. The lack of recognition for this film, I think, is preposterous. It's long, but it's perpetually gripping. The plot pushes forward with such a fulfilling tenacity. Russell Crowe is luckless, lovable, course as steel wool. Denzel Washington is like a sneer. A dark shadow. He's a business man, a family man. He's almost some modern version of Daniel Plainview. I'll go so far as to say that American Gangster is the most entertaining film I've seen in a while. Much like In the Valley of Elah, this film would have held the Academy captive in any other year.

2007 was just so freaking amazing.