Secret in Their Eyes (2015)

Score: 4 / 5

I'm not really sure why this is the second film adaptation of Eduardo Sacheri's 2005 novel in five years, so I understand a lot of its criticism. And frankly, I think the Oscar-winning Argentine film is better in terms of cinematography and editing. I'll cite that film's "chase" scene in the soccer stadium as evidence, and there's little more that can be said about that.

However redundant it may feel, though, I really rather liked this American adaptation. The camerawork and pacing isn't as tight as it could be, though the film has a gritty realism that evokes late-90s/early-00s crime dramas, which I find interesting. Of course, unlike the Argentine film, this close-up heavy approach also gives the impression that the film is a subdued and meditative version of any number of serial police procedurals on television. I'm sure that people who regularly watch shows like Law & Order or SVU or any of the other masses of similar shows will find this movie to be dull, a bland and pale shadow of what it could be.

But for those of us who do not watch those programs, the film presents a grim portrait of four individuals who are inexorably bound to a single rape-murder case, and how their obsession with it changes, unites, and ultimately haunts their lives. The back-and-forth dual plotline dictated by the source material is fairly well handled, and the plot translates surprisingly well to the criminal justice system in urban America. We see a team of FBI investigators (Julia Roberts, Chiwetel Ejiofor, Dean Norris) and their DA overseer (Nicole Kidman) brought together during their heightened watch for terrorism when one of the investigator's daughters is found murdered in a dumpster. Fears of terrorism (the film takes place not long after 9/11) dictate the legal process, and soon after the wrong men are convicted for the crime. Thirteen years later, though their lives have drifted apart, the team is brought back together to continue their quest. One by one, the team compromises their duties to illegally find the man responsible and bring him to justice.

It doesn't have the Gothic sensibilities of, for example, Prisoners (2013) but the film plays its cards close to the chest and favors the performances of its stars. Ejiofor and Roberts are typically incredible, delivering pitch-perfect characters in moments of daring vulnerability and surprising autonomy. I mean, it's nice to see a cast of relatively diverse characters in the legal system determining for themselves the right path to justice in accordance with their own values. My favorite scene is when Kidman's character -- an otherwise straight-laced and stern business woman -- attempts to stop Ejiofor from illegally questioning the suspect. She notices the suspect's lingering sexual stare, and nonverbally decides to turn the tables on him, using her suddenly exploited sexuality to degrade him until he confesses. It's a daring move, and one that Kidman delivers with great boons. If you know what I mean.

As I say, it's not a great film. Sure, it's a little tame, a little predictable, and a little redundant. In fact, some of the moments on screen are exact replicas of their corresponding Argentine scenes, something that is obviously intentional but, in my opinion, misguided. But it's rarely a bad thing to throw some A-listers into a smart crime thriller together and let them play it out with their respective strengths. And you could hardly ask for a more wide-eyed, introspective cast for a film about secrets in people's eyes.

IMDb: Secret in Their Eyes

Spectre (2015)

Score: 4 / 5

Confession: I'd never seen a Bond film until last weekend. And all three of the ones I watched starred Daniel Craig. So if that makes you judge me, I'll understand.

My opinions? Casino Royale is brilliant, Quantum of Solace is not, and Skyfall is almost perfect. Am I sad Judi Dench's character is dead? Hell yes. Am I happy that Sam Mendes came back to direct Spectre? Hell yes.

But he couldn't improve on what he did in Skyfall. Don't get me wrong -- Spectre is damn good. In fact, I'd argue that the opening scene in Mexico City is one of the best single scenes I've seen yet this year. The longshot, the costumes, the stuntwork are all stunning. It's a dazzling and arresting way to start any film, and it feels perfect for our leading man's persona. Just when I thought it couldn't get any better, Craig jumps aboard a helicopter for a surprisingly well-edited fight in the sky above the crowded square. Following the spectacle is a delicious theme song delivered by Sam Smith to a beautifully stylized opening credit roll.

But not long after the opening scene, the film retreats into a formulaic pattern. It's still one of the better spy/action movies I've ever seen, but it's not as daring or resounding as its predecessor. Perhaps the reason for my lack of enthusiasm lies in the film's inflated sense of self-importance. Christoph Waltz plays Franz Oberhauser, the villain who is apparently the mastermind behind the events of the three previous films. It's almost as if the filmmakers thought this kind of contrived plot device would make the film more Important or Critical, which is silly at best. Lines like "the architect of all your pain" made me snort out loud, which I'm guessing was not intended by the filmmakers. And then, to make matters worse, they include a scene that goes beyond accepting Oberhauser as a shadowy crazy mastermind criminal by giving him a personal vendetta against Bond: After Bond was orphaned, Oberhauser's father became his guardian while Franz grew jealous and overreacted by killing his father, staging his own death, and changing his name before founding the huge terrorist organization Spectre.

That seems more like the basis of an opera, or maybe a comic book. Not an otherwise intelligent and sophisticated spy thriller. I'm sure it works for some audiences, but it just doesn't for me. It makes the whole film trite and banal, a simple cat-and-mouse on global scale, featuring Waltz in a role that ignores his talents and hinders his dramatic potential from being realized. I think I was just disappointed because the opening sequence was so sharp, and the opening credits so provocative with its images of an octopus over everything, and it all turned out to be a gimmick. I felt that I'd been had, and that the filmmakers -- desperate to one-up themselves -- had layered it on way too thick.

However, the film does feature more screen time for Ralph Fiennes as M and Ben Whishaw as Q, which is never a bad thing. It also finds a much more compelling villain in Andrew Scott as C, the head of the Joint Intelligence Service, who is struggling for power with M and pushing for global surveillance system "Nine Eyes". By the time Oberhauser admits to be behind the push for Nine Eyes, we are hardly surprised, and by the time C is revealed to be in league with him we are just waiting for the confrontation. But Scott himself is delicious in the role, and I would only have liked more screen time for him.

The camerawork is just as good as in Skyfall, as is cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema's use of colors and striking visuals. We don't get a surprise appearance from Albert Finney or his ilk in this one, but we'll survive that. And I think some of the action sequences of this film might be the best in the series, because Hoytema and editor Lee Smith never let the action get lost in handheld frenzy or quickly edited snapshots. Everything is long and steady, and it makes viewing much easier and the action more effectively elegant. All in all, it's a fine film, a little given over to its own self-aggrandized importance but only rarely indulgent. I'd watch it any day over Quantum of Solace.

IMDb: Spectre

Mockingjay: Part Two (2015)

Score: 4.5 / 5

I find these films -- probably the only series about which I'll say such things -- to be far more enjoyable than the simple prose of the novels on which they are based. And while the two parts of Mockingjay may not be have the fastest pace or the most daring action sequences of most modern young adult dystopian fiction, I find them to be fiercely intelligent and resourceful in mining the source material and in delivering satisfying results to their audience. The split also allows more time for us to focus on the great character developments that happen during the otherwise high speed, plot-driven events of the story. So I'm not really sure why people keep complaining about that.

As for Part Two specifically, it's brilliant. Not as breakneck as Catching Fire, not as meditative as Mockingjay Part One, it allows the various elements of the series to simmer together in a harsh treatment of escalating warfare. Its topical relevance shines through perhaps best in the moment when the rebels bomb a mountain, effectively burying the enemy soldiers and civilians inside together. The following scene between the escaping survivors and the rebel army led by Katniss. It's hard and it's complicated and it's wonderful. There's also a few beautiful moments as Coin leads her people to victory, and Katniss watches and suspects that her aim is less noble than she had first imagined.

Nothing in this movie quite matches the fierce brilliance of the scene in Part One of Gale and the rebels sneaking into the Capitol to save Peeta while Donald Sutherland drones in voiceover. However, Part Two skillfully avoids overdoing the special effects and getting caught up in its own exciting energy. In fact, there is really only one particularly violent sequence in this film that I can recall. It's also probably the most violent scene in the series, and one that I had some trouble watching. It happens in the sewers, where our team of heroes is attacked by monstrous white lizard-men in a terrifying melee that had me covering my eyes. Mad props to director Francis Lawrence, because it's got to be one of the most stunning fight sequences I've seen in a film since The Return of the King. Not because it's particularly intelligent, but rather because it's so fast, surprising, and long; it's an extended sequence that has absolutely no moments of relief. Even when they climb up the ladder and escape the lizards, seemingly in peace to mourn the deaths of their friends, sharp metal drills start popping up from the exploding floor beneath them.

Perhaps part of the reason I so loved the sequence is because the film until then is pretty tame. It's not slow, exactly, but more meditative and emotional like in Part One. Even when Katniss and her team get into the Capitol and maneuver its booby-traps, it's not a particularly action-y movie. Which, by the way, is great. It makes the climax that much more effective.

And speaking of the climax, I'm not exactly sure where it was in this movie. Which is also great. Because, as the finale to the series, the whole damn thing is a bit of a climax. Rather like the eighth Harry Potter film, this picture more or less begins with the climax and ends up with an extended resolution. Actually, in a sense, it feels like The Return of the King, with several denouement scenes that let the story end with a nice little flourish. Maybe the epilogue scene was a bit much, but it's a sweet little nod to the book. I noticed several people in the theater squirming to leave after the "climax" (I say that's the execution scene, because Donald Sutherland's face and laughter is devastating), because it's hard for some people to stay seated when there's nothing "exciting" left. It's sad, but the film manages those squirmers gracefully.

What else can I say? J-Law is fantastic. I'm glad we saw more of Josh Hutcherson in this one. I'd have liked to see Elizabeth Banks and Woody Harrelson more, but the story isn't really about them any more. Julianne Moore is great and we can always use more of her, and the moments with Philip Seymour Hoffman gave me all of the feelings. The camerawork is strong, the editing stronger, and I have no big complaints. It's a fine film, and a fine ending to the series.

**
I should probably qualify my earlier claim that I prefer these movies to their source material. I like the books fine, and I'm not saying they're bad. The prose is simple, straightforward, and first person. These fit the concept Collins was going for, and I can't fault them, except to say that I don't like that style in prose. I'm also conflicted with the fact that the intense and violent story is clearly marketed for young people; sure, the protagonist is also that age, but ultimately The Hunger Games is an extended Lord of the Flies, and Mockingjay is nothing short of a war novel (I'm thinking of a Tim O'Brien novel or two). I'm just not sure parents and teachers should be letting middle schoolers loose on this kind of material without accompanying conversations and context.

That said, I also have a little bit of misgivings about the films being PG-13. Much like the books being marketed for kids (I assume this might be why they are not particularly descriptive), the films are being marketed for kids. The MPAA rating stops the films from going into really dynamic territory (the moment in Mockingjay when Katniss randomly shoots a Capitol woman before she can speak; the bloody murder of a random girl in the streets by a shower of bullets). Ultimately these films take on a hue of polished Hollywood young adult sci-fi fiction rather than a raw, brutal war film.

I don't really have a coherent opinion on this franchise, obviously. But these are my main considerations.

IMDb: Mockingjay: Part Two

Bridge of Spies (2015)

Score: 4.5 / 5

The most wonderful things about this movie are all of the things I was not expecting. Frankly, I was sort of dreading it because Spielberg is really hit-or-miss with me, and I also worried this would be another Tom Hanks vehicle like Captain Phillips (which, for reference, I intensely dislike). But from the outset, Bridge of Spies sets itself up as a solid and simple old-fashioned spy drama with heavy style. It's brilliant.

If you're looking for action and melodrama, you might want to pass this one up. Spielberg really subdued his usual bravado here, even more so than in his 2012 Lincoln talker, and manages to twist many expectations we might have about American war movies in the wake of American Sniper and its problematic ilk. Bridge of Spies is about paranoia, and Spielberg lets his film simmer in the dark for a long time until it boils over in the third act. It's totally by the book, but it supports the material and feels about as satisfying as a John le Carré thriller.

Tom Hanks is his usual charming self, complete with wit and vulnerability -- though perhaps too much vulnerability -- and carries the picture well. But the real gem here is Mark Rylance, portraying an alleged Soviet spy in America. He gives his role only a hint of emotion, and lets his soft-spoken, witty, ironic performance steal the whole movie right away. He delivers his lines with a wispy, singsong voice and makes manifest an incredibly complicated character: one who refuses to lie in a world, by definition, structured by deception. It's a brave move, and one that succeeds fabulously. I usually don't like it when I feel filmmakers tugging at my heartstrings, but by the ending of this film, Rylance deserved my little sob. I should also mention Mikhail Gorevoy, playing a Soviet ambassador, who thrilled and chilled me with his piercing eyes and conniving hiss. I quite hope to see him in more movies.

Clocking in at nearly two and a half hours, the film plays for the long haul. But it's never particularly slow. Hardly a scene passes without some new concept or insight into the trials, bureaucracy, politics, and legality we witness. In fact, I would argue it's an unusually streamlined film, in terms of plot, for a spy movie. In the last decade or two, the genre has had trouble staying afloat if there aren't huge plot twists or spectacular fight scenes. But this movie proves that major studios still can make a damn good film that's not ridiculously complicated, sexy, or violent. Sometimes it just takes a bit of meditation on theme and relevance. Some of my favorite moments are simply a result of super-subtle period camerawork. Others (and ones that I will pick up more during more viewings) are the result of editing that juxtaposes conflicting ideas. There's a moment when the Soviet spy goes into court, and as the bailiff commands that "All rise," we jump to a classroom of children rising and reciting the American pledge of allegiance before watching videos about nuclear bombs. There's another lengthy scene that repeatedly mirrors the treatment of the Soviet spy in America with an American spy in Russia. It's scenes like these that help save the film from being mindlessly Americanized (still bitterly thinking of American Sniper) while gently provoking thoughtful conversation over cocktails afterward. Don't get me wrong, it's a movie about an average (if highly intelligent) white American for average white American audiences, but at least it doesn't totally ignore the moral and legal ambiguities and compromises war forces us all into.

IMDb: Bridge of Spies

Steve Jobs (2015)

Score: 5 / 5

I have done exactly no research into the making of this movie or its namesake, so I can't say how realistic the film is. But I can say that the film is perhaps the most consistently engrossing movie I've seen this year. Credit for that goes mostly to writer Aaron Sorkin, whose dialogue is so rich, dense, and kinetic that I occasionally found it hard to breathe in the auditorium. Rarely have I sat through a film with such profound dialogue; I think the last I recall was 2013's August: Osage County.

The film has been advertised as a biography, but in fact it is a fiercely theatrical character study into a superstar's complex backstage life and the demands that ravage his soul. We see our hero (or, arguably, antihero) in three acts, each time only minutes before unveiling a new product, and caught in operatic rhetorical and logistical battles with various members of his personal and professional lives. It's a daring concept for a film, but Sorkin's feverish dialogue burns so quickly and with such brilliance I completely lost myself to it.

The astounding range of the dialogue is matched impressively by director Danny Boyle, who restrains his often peripatetic photography and editing here. He keeps things close and intimate, clean and colorful, and manages to house Sorkin's language in a chamber piece worthy of operatic energy. By the third act, the realism and restraint of the film has been largely cast aside, and Boyle casts us with the characters into a centrifuge of memories, abstracts, and passions. Its final heartstring tugs notwithstanding, the film lets us out of the experience with a more or less pure understanding of the paradoxical heart inside the machine. It's a daring concept for a film, and one the artists deliver in each scene.

Michael Fassbender as the titular character fashions his own distinctive conversational rhythms and marries them to fierce facial expressions and body language almost as inspired as the dialogue itself. He carries the film with apparent ease, though his performance is so raw I can scarcely imagine the lengths he went to in research and practice. Kate Winslet almost manages to match him in energy and skill, but her limited screen time hinders her. With her fabulous Polish accent and lightning delivery, she parries Fassbender's cruelties and queries in biting style.

I don't really know what else to say about this movie. It's dense, intimate, calculated, intense, and grandiose. It's an opera about power and money and fame and love and family and passion. Most important, it's surprisingly beautiful.

IMDb: Steve Jobs