On the Basis of Sex (2018)

Score: 4 / 5

There's really nothing special about On the Basis of Sex. It's a rote biopic depicting the early life of one Ruth Bader Ginsburg, who of course would go on to be iconic progressive voice in U.S. legal and judicial history. Shmaltzy and sentimental, the film capitalizes on its own senses of nostalgia and timeliness to lionize a woman who hardly needs any extra praise. Much like The Post last year, this feels like an awards grab -- though with considerably less technical skill -- for an audience who is already well-acquainted with its real-life counterpart.

There's really nothing special about the screenplay. We follow Ruth through Harvard Law School and her underdog status as a woman in the male-dominated program. We see her grin and bear it -- though not without her fiery brand of wit and scathing retorts -- and she buckles down to earn her own degree and help her husband. Later, they work together on a case that she's sure will topple "the whole damn system"...if, of course, they win. It's a classic tale of love and hard work and victory that feels nauseatingly like an origin story for a superhero. While there are stakes, we know every step of the journey before it appears on screen.

There's really nothing special about the performances. Felicity Jones brings her considerable talent to the fore -- she's really one of the best in her generation, in my opinion -- but she doesn't do much here we haven't seen her do before. Armie Hammer is his usual suave, intelligent, charming self, and while his supportive husband is a welcome sight (his character's position is usually a vile, chauvinistic sadist), he's not giving us much to chew on. Brief appearances by Sam Waterston as the primary villain and Kathy Bates as the revered mentor figure Dorothy Kenyon, while delightful, are nothing noteworthy.

There's really nothing special about the movie in general. But that's exactly why this movie works so well.

Nothing about it is larger than life. Its comfortable familiarity belies its strength of conviction and heart. It doesn't want to paint Ginsburg as a real person with dark sides and personal struggles, because it's too busy celebrating her magnificent achievements. It doesn't want to exhaust us with her lifelong story of heroic triumphs because it's too busy focusing on her landmark early win that launched her on her path to progress America into a new age of gender equality. It doesn't need all the technical skill to win awards because its simplicity and earnestness is more than enough to win hearts.

And check out Kesha's new song that plays during the closing credits. It's a gem.

Anesthesia (2015)

Score: 2.5 / 5

The thing about ensemble dramas is that we love them. Even when they're not great, we get pulled in by the talent and hope the movie works too. Tim Blake Nelson tries again here to be the writer and director of a sprawling film highlighting the interconnected nature of human life, and this time he assembles the cast to make it worth a watch. It's just too bad his work doesn't provide a better foundation for them.

It would seem that Anesthesia might concern a feeling of numbness in modern life, a sort of artificial coping mechanism to deal with the pains of our existence. To some extent, Nelson's film does explore those ideas. We have a philosophy professor (Sam Waterston) preparing for retirement and contemplating his life's work as he aims for purpose- or intent-driven behaviors and one of his students (Kristen Stewart) who harms herself. We have an alcoholic housewife (Gretchen Mol) and mother of two trying to be the picture-perfect school mom, though her husband (Corey Stoll) is having an affair somewhere in town. We have an intelligent but failed writer (Nelson himself) and his children who are all fighting different addictions while his wife confronts cancer. It's a messy ensemble, and the actors fir their parts perfectly, performing with conviction and passion.

But though they're all trying to anesthetize themselves, Nelson does the exact opposite for us, plucking our heartstrings with wild abandon and forcing us to feel every little sting. Uncomfortably funny but comically sad, the whole enterprise feels underbaked. Contrived at best, the plot feels like Crash but cheaper and simpler and with a thesaurus. Waxing philosophic at every turn, the film meanders with a nihilistic goal, as its various themes of coming of age, addiction, fatality, depression, purpose, fidelity, and of course DEATH get pounded into our ears. Waterston carries the real weight here along with Stewart, as they deliver lengthy, complex monologues about the pains and purposes of life.

While I ordinarily like this heavy, heady stuff, here there is so little dramatic meat to feast on that the monologues feel gimmicky and cruel, a cerebral venture without focus. It tries so hard to make us empathize with its characters, but ultimately the film doesn't let us know much about the characters beyond their spotlight moments of revelation. They quickly become archetypes, caricatures of experimental teens, troubled spouses, struggling addicts, and none of them stick in your mind once the credits start rolling. One character refers to an "echo chamber", and that is an unfortunate but apt description of this film.

IMDb: Anesthesia

Miss Sloane (2016)

Score: 4 / 5

A political thriller of the highest caliber, Miss Sloane sears across the screen and into our eyeballs with ferocious wit and impeccable style. It is also in some ways the essence of why this Oscar season doesn't feel like an Oscar season.

Look at the recent releases in cinemas. Sure, big blockbusters can be more common as we leave summer and approach the holidays, but we've seen a surprising lack of real awards season contenders since October. Besides Arrival and Moonlight, can you even think of a real major Best Picture candidate? The last I would have guessed might have been Hell or High Water, but that was released almost half a year ago. I know we still have some major films coming up from Scorsese and Chazelle, among others, but it seems like this year's race is a last-minute hustle.

In Miss Sloane, we have a fierce screenplay that fizzles out at the end. We have a superstar performance from a leading woman that is ultimately overshadowed by unfocused direction. We have storytelling that is anything but original in design. Sound like other films we've been seeing all year? I don't want to get down on this particular movie, because it really is fabulous. But my anxieties have peaked with the looming of Golden Globe nominations tomorrow morning, and so I'm finally expressing my frustration at the lack of gold-worthy pictures this year.

That said, I loved this movie. I love political thrillers, courtroom dramas, feminist icons, high style, and sassy scripts, and this has all that and then some, and it's all here. Our titular hero is a lobbyist, formidable and vicious, famed and hated for her cunning and dubious means of achieving success (Does this sound timely to you??). Despite her gray-area ethics and debatable methods, Sloane cuts away the crap, reveling in her own sense of purpose and skill and thriving as she mows down her opponents. I felt invigorated and inspired as I watched her, but I would not be surprised if others felt alienated and even threatened by her (much like what people feel when they watch Frank Underwood do his thang on House of Cards). Jessica Chastain delivers a knockout performance in stunning costume, riding a tidal wave of seething emotion with grace and restraint. I'd argue that she is the only thing that keeps the film from a great big flop into obscurity.

While her performance is more than worth the viewing, the rest of the film suffers from less-inspired delivery. Perhaps it's our age of instant news and publicly shamed politics, perhaps it's the incessant white noise of crime procedurals and legal thrillers on television, but almost nothing about the story here feels urgent enough to deserve a feature-length production. It's like an episode of Damages or Scandal stretched over two hours' time with little melodramatic payoff and even less bloodshed. That doesn't mean the dialogue isn't heightened and sharp, even gasp-inducingly clever, it just means it all feels a little stale. And don't even get me started on the conceptually fabulous yet terribly executed ending. Thankfully, John Lithgow presides over the mess to keep things interesting.

So. Award-worthy? Maybe for Miss Chastain, but nobody else. Then again, who else really deserves an award anyway?

IMDb: Miss Sloane