Dawn of the Planet of the Apes (2014)

Score: 5 / 5

The first thing you need to know about Dawn is that it is decidedly superior to its predecessor, Rise of the Planet of the Apes (2011). And if you thought that film was a solid sci-fi reboot, you'd be right. So this new installment in the franchise is damn good.

Andy Serkis reprises his demandingly physical role as Caesar, the aptly named chimpanzee protagonist of both Rise and Dawn.  In the former film, he plays a revolutionary; in this, he must suffer the bloody vengeance of his Number Two, Koba, who finally has his opportunity to repay the humans for years of "scientific" torment. The apes, now living in relative sovereignty, have developed an intelligent culture that allows them to provide for themselves; the human survivors of the simian plague, on the other hand, are inching toward devastation if they cannot find an alternative power source. Humans Malcolm (played by Jason Clarke) and Dreyfus (Gary Oldman) almost mirror the relationship between the two ape leaders: Malcolm seeks the apes' assistance to restart the dam and return power, while Dreyfus is quite willing to annihilate the apes should they interfere. As we might expect, all it takes is a few mistaken interactions to ignite the fires of war.

Matt Reeves (director of 2008's Cloverfield and 2010's Let Me In) helms this two-hour, thoroughly taut drama into surprisingly complicated moral ground. Its plot may not be wholly unfamiliar -- it feels a lot like Hamlet or many other patriarchal epics -- but Reeves views the proceedings with an eye for visual beauty and emotional depth. He also directs it with impeccable pacing, right from the strangely disturbing opening sequence, building small tensions and letting them collect together until you can't decide which character you sympathize with more. Whereas Rise presented its simple, energetic, and fun story along predictably familiar allegorical grounds, Dawn takes us into a rich gray area of honor, fear, and trust.

The most violent conflict in the film is the horrific assault upon the humans led by Koba; he attempts to kill Caesar and frames the humans, rousing the enraged apes to battle. But this human-ape clash is not the climax of the film. The climax occurs in two separate situations: in one, Malcolm faces off with Dreyfus over how the humans might survive the apes' onslaught, and in the other, a revived Caesar challenges Koba for dominance and, ultimately, peace. Human against human, ape against ape. But not really. See what I mean by complicated? And yet Reeves bravely (and successfully) steers clear of sentiment or even clear allegorical pressure points; instead, he complicates every moment that might blindly fall into an emotional trap or easily definable symbolism.

Watch for the arresting visuals in this movie. They sneak up on you. Where Rise worked in a fairly rigid color scheme, Dawn employs beautiful lighting effects and darker tones of fire and the sun (worked out the titular metaphor yet?) to bring surprising depth to this hairy drama. I'd say the visuals are a bit stronger during the first hour, before the film treks into battle sequences, but even the lighting of the last scene had me gasping. So don't think this sci-fi flick, like its predecessor, is an apish excuse to celebrate violence or even start a racial commentary this summer; it's far more subtle than that. If you had told me I would cry in a movie about animated apes, I wouldn't have believed you.

IMDb: Dawn of the Planet of the Apes

A Cry in the Dark (1988)

Score: 4 / 5

Topical, engaging, and ultimately disturbing, this 1988 drama is perhaps most memorable for its early cry, "The dingo took my baby!" Directed by Fred Schepisi, the film follows the Azaria Chamberlain case, in which the nine-week-old infant Azaria disappeared from a camp in the Australian wilderness. The extremes of temperatures in Outback summers as well as the nearby presence of wild dogs made baby Azaria's survival highly unlikely. Rather than focusing on the baby's horrific disappearance, the film dramatizes the efforts of her parents, Michael and Lindy, to prove their innocence in her presumed death.

The Chamberlains quickly become the targets of a spectacular criminal case that has the entire country enthralled. Salem goes to the Outback, you might say. Perhaps the catalyzing root of public frenzy stems from their religion: Michael (played by Sam Neill) is a Seventh-day Adventist pastor, and he relies heavily on theology to make sense of his daughter's death. Lindy (played by Oscar-nominee Meryl Streep) is particularly scrutinized, as her steely, stoic demeanor seems likely to hide murderous designs, and as she is the sole eyewitness to Azaria's disappearance. Rumors fly that Azaria's name, the vacation to the wilderness, and the Chamberlains' parenting methods are all a part of a cult ritual of child sacrifice. Of course, their religion is wildly misrepresented here, but the film bravely depicts the religious bigotry against the small Adventist population in Australia.

Streep plays Lindy with surprising nerve, successfully risking the audience's disapproval and suspicion. Amidst the media's campaign of malicious gossip, she remains aloof and cold. Even in private moments, potentially the opportunities for the film to make the character more sympathetic, Streep sticks to her guns: Lindy Chamberlain is not a very likeable woman. We, the audience, are forced into identifying more with the press and the public, whose outrageous accusations are infuriating, because we ourselves can't really defend Lindy's stoicism. We must consider the frightening, complicated likelihood that if Lindy acted how the public seemed to expect her to act, she may never have been seriously considered a suspect. Streep puts walls around herself that we cannot penetrate; the most emotion she shows is a deep hostility and even bitterness at being charged with murder.

Neill's performance follows her lead, as he plays Michael fighting with his own demons. During the trials, his faith in his religion is strained, and his trust in Lindy is severely shaken to the point that, during his testimony, he becomes confused and inadvertently suggests his wife's guilt. In this way, director Schepisi carefully indicts scapegoating, the press, and public opinion, especially in his approach at showing their devastating power in intimate, domestic relationships.

I mentioned above that we are almost manipulated into identifying with the press and the public in this film, and perhaps I should explore that now. Many critics have related the presence and influence of both the public and the press in this film to a Greek chorus. The sometimes funny, sad, or cacophonous sounds of these people help us to order our own opinions on the courtroom proceedings. Beyond an intellectual reaction to these voices, we also recognize our affiliation with them: We know these people. We know the conversations over pumping gas, in a barber shop, or whispered outside churches. We know the frustrations of people who don't care about the media as well as those that care too much. We know the woman who silences her gossiping guests by declaring she will not have another dinner party ruined by "those people," referring to the Chamberlains as if they orchestrated their own infamy.

Needless to say, this film is not a typical courtroom drama. Schepisi expertly controls the flow of evidence into the case, building a damning case against people we already believe are innocent (we see -- or think we see -- the dingo carrying off baby Azaria). His methodical overview of the case highlights the dangerously circumstantial evidence and the horrific strength of public opinion in a story that is ultimately not about guilt or innocence. Ending note: Don't think this film is an exercise in unhappiness. I realize I rather painted it that way, but I intended to discuss the elements that most got my mind going. The film ultimately ends happily. Well, as happily as it could have, considering the source material. The Chamberlains were exonerated of all charges two months before the release of this film (which was released as Evil Angels in Australia). But I think the story is no less tragic as a result.
You'll just have to watch and determine that for yourself.

IMDb: A Cry in the Dark

Rabbit Hole (2010)

Score: 5 / 5

It's a character study in bereavement. After their 4-year-old son is killed, Becca and Howie live in an isolated daze. Hoping for the return of normalcy but unable to actively seek it, they cycle through guilt, anger, and despair while continuing their damaging interactions in an otherwise sexless marriage. Becca, a previously stay-at-home mom, satisfies her craving for life by exercising indoors and gardening. Her ventures beyond the walls of her house tend to end badly, as her social skills have all but abandoned her. When Becca and Howie finally seek to expel the ghosts from their house, they fight each other's efforts and sometimes botch their own.

Add to this mess Becca's mother and her own ghosts, Becca's troubled and troublesome sister, Howie's prospect of an extramarital affair, and the reappearance of the teenage boy, Jason, who accidentally killed their son with his car, and you've just about grasped the plot. Sound brutal yet? It should.

I'm always happy to see artists continue to perfect their work, and David Lindsay-Abaire adapted this screenplay from his own Pulitzer-winning stage play. His work is distinctly recognizable by the extreme situations of the plot (though these are more often farcically bizarre than horrifically real) and by the dialogue's sheer comedy. A delicate pattern of silence, softness, and shouting emerges in Rabbit Hole, a tunnel down which echoes continually grow while seeking escape. But the final product is not a cacophony of sounds or a mournful lament; it is a melody simple, sad, and ultimately affirming.

This film retains the combination of awkward humor and devastating honesty that works so well in the play. The actors -- including Nicole Kidman, Aaron Eckhart, and Dianne Weist -- brilliantly embody the subtle rhythms of the dialogue while filling every silence with floods of sensitivity and empathy for their characters. Besides the masterful performances of these leads, Miles Teller notably delivers a heartrending performance as Jason, the guilt-ridden high schooler who provides Becca with a means to find hope again.

John Cameron Mitchell (of 2001's Hedwig and the Angry Inch fame) beautifully directs this moving film with an eye to delicate, detailed visuals. The camera becomes a brave character in itself, watching the characters in their darkest moments with a sensitive, gentle eye. Vivid colors and inventive angles emphasize the beauty and dynamic quality of life in all its complexity. Mitchell's own prowess is shown clearly in his relaxed approach to an otherwise simple story. This material calls for thematic attention, not agitated plot devices, and Mitchell provides enough warmth and simple humor to keep the film from being a weepy dirge.

In a world where people can't find the right words to say, Lindsay-Abaire finds words that reveal the human condition. In a situation that words cannot define, Mitchell demonstrates the importance of compassion for other people. This is a 90-minute exercise in humanity you won't soon forget.

IMDb: Rabbit Hole

Maleficent (2014)

Score: 3 / 5

Though an increasingly familiar premise, the prospect of a fairytale told from the villain's perspective remains an intriguing incentive to go to the movies. A story centered on one of the most memorable (and truly scary) Disney villains was sure to bring out the legions of dark fantasy fans and supernatural romantics that have multiplied in the last decade or so. Add the talents of Angelina Jolie and Robert Stromberg (special effects artist of Avatar (2009), Alice in Wonderland (2010), and Oz the Great and Powerful (2013)) to the mix, and I was getting excited.

This summer's Maleficent is a solid Disney remake (or, rather, re-imagining) of a Disney film. It certainly doesn't succeed as well as, for example, 101 Dalmatians (1996), but it does surpass Tim Burton's promising and severely disappointing Alice in Wonderland (2010). I would compare its success at re-visioning a classic to Rudyard Kipling's The Jungle Book (1994) in that it works as a film, but corrupts the source material in surprising and unsatisfactory ways.

Given the film's clever premise and Lana Del Rey's haunting "Once Upon a Dream", I anticipated a very dark 90 minutes. And while Maleficent certainly is dark, it is not intense. It's hardly even tense. Though it hints at twisted motivations and erotic subtext, the film never explores these intrigues. As a PG fantasy adventure, I can't say I expected these things, but I had my hopes. The characters' motivations are murky at best, and the ambiguity is never justified. And the film's tone is a bizarre mess; I feel more confused about the implications of this re-imagining of events now than I did after watching the trailer. If the film was making a statement about living in a moral gray-area or appreciating desperate measures or something, I would be fine with tonal insecurity. But it doesn't make a definitive artistic statement that could lead me to that conclusion.

The film languishes in its own computer-generated beauty, wasting valuable time with long scenic overlooks and fairytale creatures that look like they came out of a video game. Whereas Sleeping Beauty (1959) is largely memorable because of its heavily stylized artwork, Maleficent's setting and action sequences feel like any number of recent fantasy films or video games.

Angelina Jolie, however, doesn't disappoint. Her performance is intense, subtle, vicious, intelligent; she obviously did her homework and comes to this circus ready to fly (literally). How refreshing to see a strong, truly independent woman who is thoroughly feminine and avoids being a "villain". She is a powerful leader, able fighter, and manages to do it all with a black silk nightdress and impeccable makeup. Her costumes are exquisite, ranging from a smoky sheer shroud to an ebony satin cocktail gown topped with a leather headdress. The unsettling combination of soft, smooth, and glittering fabrics provide a lot of room for Jolie to play with her character's power and sexual appeal.

She is not fully evil; indeed, she is hardly depicted as evil at all, which feels dangerously contrived at times. Though I loved the original character's demonic liaisons, this new manifestation works as a result of Jolie's efforts. My one misgiving in the portrayal of Maleficent's character is that she doesn't even curse Aurora to death, but rather to slumber. I suppose that goes along well with helping us believe her growing love for the young princess.

Jolie thoroughly sells the loving (if resentful) mother-role, and brilliantly underscores it with an eroticism that shocked and delighted me. And the true love twist at the end, though recently familiar, was a very welcome plot device. My lasting appreciation to the filmmakers, however, goes to one crucial element of the story: As Maleficent starts to embody a mothering figure to the young Aurora, she retains all of her strongest character traits. Maleficent is the feminist equivalent of a Marvel superhero, you might say. Too bad this woman has to exist in a fantasy world while the Avengers are allowed into modern reality.

One final thought: I now crave a film tribute to Tallulah Bankhead. Three women come to mind who have proven themselves worthy to portray the goddess: Angelina Jolie, Glenn Close, and Cate Blanchett.
Think about it. You're welcome.

IMDb: Maleficent

Jersey Boys (2014)

Score: 4 / 5

Before we start, I should admit to being a fan of musicals. And the stage production of Jersey Boys. And The Four Seasons, more so than other similar groups. My bias has now been accounted for.

I went to see Clint Eastwood's musical directorial debut last week with a lot of anticipation and no small amount of apprehension. Though I generally like his work, the excessive praise it often receives considerably dampens my own response. (I still fight down a growl remembering that Million Dollar Baby won the Best Picture Oscar over The Aviator in 2004.) John Lloyd Young's presence as Frankie Valli in the film, however, encouraged me, as he had originated the role on Broadway.

The film is most certainly not a typical exercise in musical cinema. It has surprisingly little glamour or glitter, and it doesn't have that moment of a star being born before your eyes. This story is not Glee. It's not even Dreamgirls (2006).

Eastwood expertly guides the film away from many genre clichés by simplifying the color palette, restricting the camerawork, and focusing on performances, costumes, and hair and makeup. His passion for telling these characters' story is so apparent in the intimacy and compassion with which he presents them to us. He even keeps Tommy's narrations (retained from the stage production) casual and informative; while some may see his breaking through the fourth wall as contrived, I don't see a better way to implicate the audience while simultaneously providing the necessary information and character development. Eastwood's vision for the story wouldn't allow voice-overs, and any extra scenes that might "show" instead of "tell" would be horribly confusing in any director's hands.

I found myself surprised that Eastwood took his time with this picture. Each shot feels slightly slowed down, and the dialogue isn't exactly racing. But the final product is a beautiful love-letter to a specific time period, musical style, and group of people. Muted colors and relaxed pacing elicit a strong sense of nostalgia that showbiz fabulousness would have sacrificed. Without spoiling anything, though, don't think this film is a stick in the mud -- the finale has plenty of fun and feels to pluck you up in the last minutes!

That's not to say there's no tension: above the constant threat of Mob violence and upon the brink of financial ruin, our four heroes struggle to achieve their dreams. Though their dreams are slightly different, they attempt to live in the harmonies they create. Reconciling domestic life, finances, and egos, however, prove to be overwhelming. Besides strong performances from the four singers, Christopher Walken provides a much-needed sense of experience to the young cast and bolsters the emerging themes of honor and brotherhood.

There's a lot of heart in this film -- so much that I found myself surprised and teary-eyed several times. In the absence of glitzy theatrical spectacle, allow yourself to appreciate the excellent hair, costuming, and makeup. Allow the performances to teach you something about brotherhood, passion, and chasing your dreams. Most importantly, allow yourself to tap your foot and fall in love with the beautiful music all over again. You'll be glad you did.

IMDb: Jersey Boys

Deliver Us From Evil (2014)

Score: 3.5 / 5

We've seen it all before. An uncomfortable opening that makes little or no sense. The promise of icky, not-so-subtle creepiness. Profuse (and often incorrect) religious exclamations, explanations, and imagery. Shaky camerawork and various bizarre sounds mixed in with the screaming. A woman or child in danger (both, if we're lucky). A good friend sacrificing himself. People popping out where they shouldn't, things popping out of people where they shouldn't.

If you have to guess whether it's demon possession movie, you should dunk your head in some holy water.

Deliver Us From Evil, the most recent release from director Scott Derrickson, hit cinemas last week. Fans may recognize his name, and for good reason: he has written and directed notables (and personal favorites) The Exorcism of Emily Rose (2005) and Sinister (2012). I was excited to hear about his new project, even though it claims to be based on a true story, and looked forward to seeing Eric Bana in a scary movie (and a tight black t-shirt).

Besides the bad taste its title leaves in your mouth, the film's plot may be too familiar to chill you this summer. You hardly have to know its premise to guess what evil we'll be delivered from, how it'll be done, and who'll make it out the other side. So if you only like films that keep you guessing and surprised, steer clear of this iceberg. But if you enjoy seeing a master of atmosphere kick around an old story and eke out some fresh sensations, give this movie a watch.

A shadowy, rainy Bronx becomes a great character in itself - one that Derrickson brilliantly highlighted but should have explored more. And inside the gritty city facades beats a palpable heart in the form of Bana's performance as NYPD officer Ralph Sarchie. Derrickson wrote an engaging if flat protagonist, but the character's bravado is complicated by Bana's sensitivity and dark gaze. Sarchie at first seems the ideal candidate to head a movie about urban demonic activity. Buff, a loving husband and father, buff, intelligent, good to his partner, buff - he is an intriguing hero, gifted with his own Spidey-sense, a "radar" of discernment. Hints at a man haunted by pain and suffering, however, pervade the screen from the first shot (that is, after the bizarre prologue).

It turns out that Sarchie is deeply troubled, resulting in a damaged home life and a loss of faith. Thankfully, Derrickson doesn't burden us with any extended didactic on faith or the nature of evil - besides one nicely-written scene between the cop and the priest. In fact, there is hardly a religious presence in the film until the exorcism scene itself. Typical of the possession movie's happy ending (The Exorcist (1973), The Rite (2011), and Derrickson's The Exorcism of Emily Rose), the ending tries to force-feed us a "message" of sorts, in which Sarchie (spoiler alert...but not really) reclaims his lost faith. If that's the story Derrickson wants to tell, I won't fight it, but I don't particularly like it. Especially with the film's title, which should have remained its original Beware the Night.

Though the film is testosterone-heavy, I found some fresh air in seeing that women were not the only victims of demonic assault. Too often in films men are tasked with incarcerating or killing possessed women, which certainly continues a dialogue about sexist historical medical/religious practices, but which does not provide new images for younger audiences. But the main "villain" here is a man (a balding man with lots o' blood), and though he does threaten women and children, they are not the objectified targets.

A surprising amount of violence and gore pervades the film, which adds to the gritty realism of the setting. Typical of Derrickson's work, not all the jump-scares are very jumpy or scary, but they all add to the atmospheric dread. The film would have benefitted from being about twenty minutes shorter, cutting some of the unnecessary lengthy close-ups of the second half. But for two hours of atmospheric chills, bloody bald guys, and Eric Bana fun, it's definitely worth a watch.

IMDb: Deliver Us From Evil