Sam Mendes’ Empire of Light

The Empire Theatre is troubled, but the movies it books are not part of the problem. During the course of this film, we will see it screening Chariots of Fire, The Blues Brothers, Smoky and the Bandit, and Being There. Unfortunately, this release is not nearly as good as those that it references in passing. It is presented as a tribute to the movie-going experience, but like a bad projectionist, focus is a problem for Sam Mendes’ Empire of Light, which opens tomorrow.

Hilary Small is the one who keeps things running at the Empire, in the coastal town of Margate. However, she is easily dominated by her exploitative boss, Mr. Ellis, who also uses her for quickies in his office, much to the disgust of the other employees. Her life of quiet desperation leads to a breakdown, but after her brief hospitalization, she returns for more of the same, just with more medication. Things only start to change when Stephen joins the staff. The smart teen aging into adulthood should be going to university, but he lacks sufficient funds and the proper skin color (according to Mendes’ didactic screenplay).

He and Small are drawn together, as fellow outsiders. Their rapport will take a turn towards the romantic, despite vast differences between them. However, Stephen will eventually figure out Small’s emotional issues have only been masked, rather than cured.

If you want to watch the great cinematographer Roger Deakins paint pretty pictures with light, then Empire will certainly deliver. However, the melodrama reeks of sentimentality and the periodic attacks on Thatcherism (which reversed the UK’s decline into economic stagnation and international insignificance) are gratingly unnecessary distractions.

Frankly, despite some rather lovely scenes of projectors streaming down on the movie palace’s screen, Empire could have just as easily been set in a fish & chips shop, without losing much beyond Deakin’s visuals. Small’s relationship with her co-worker stays on the right (legal) side of Summer of ’42, but it is hard to buy them as a romantic couple. At times, Stephen gets lost in the film, overshadowed by Small’s angst and resentments. Focus really is an issue here.

Operation Mincemeat, on Netflix

Actor M.E. Clifton James helped pull off one of the most famous deceptions of WWII, by serving as Gen. Montgomery’s double. Glyndwr Michael was at the center of an even more audacious counter-intelligence operation, but he was already dead at the time. For the sake of all the young servicemen slated for the invasion of Sicily, the officers and staff at the British Admiralty’s intelligence division launch a desperate mission to convince German the landing will come in Greece. Their efforts are chronicled in John Madden’s Operation Mincemeat, which premieres today on Netflix.

The film starts at zero-hour, when the Mincemeat staff can do nothing more but prey, which they solemnly do. It is actually one of the most effective and powerful in media res film openings in recent years. A few short months earlier, Lt. Commander Ewen Montagu and Squadron Leader Charles Cholmondely were assigned to Operation Mincemeat, designed to plant false intelligence to draw Hitler’s forces away from Sicily. Although their commanding officer, Rear Admiral John Godfrey was skeptical, they were convinced they needed to tie their fabricated intel to an actual body, for the Germans to ever believe it. Godfrey’s aide, Ian Fleming happened to agree with them and ultimately so did Churchill.

Although the historically-based characters are rarely directly in harm’s way from the Axis, there is the tension of a ticking clock driving the narrative. It is also surprisingly compelling to watch the two officers and their civilian assistants become emotionally involved in the fictitious lives they create for the invented “Maj. William Martin” and his faithful girlfriend, like authors developing feelings for their fictional characters.

Despite the cerebral nature of the story, Madden builds a good deal of suspense. Ironically, a lot of it comes from the number of Spanish officials who tried to act in good conscience, in accordance with their ostensive neutrality. It took a lot of sly machinations on the part of the local British consul (nicely played by Alex Jennings) to appeal to their fascist inclinations.

On the other hand, there is a distracting minor subplot ginning up paranoia over suspicion Montagu’s brother Ivor was a Soviet spy, which he was indeed, but apparently only briefly and with little tangible results. The portrayal of Churchill is a bit of a caricature, but it also shows that he was nobody’s fool. However, the film does a great job conveying tactics, strategy, and the general wartime environment.

The Command: The Kursk Russian Submarine Disaster

Although it only had a fracture of the death toll, Russia’s Kursk submarine disaster was sort of a mini-Chernobyl. It exposed the incompetence of the Russian Navy and the utter indifference of its leadership for all the world to see. NATO could have helped, but Putin waited five days to ask for help, while still enjoying his seaside vacation. It is a cold, claustrophobic tragedy that unfolds in Thomas Vinterberg’s The Command (a.k.a. Kursk), which opens today in New York.

Hopefully, we all know this will end badly, but if you didn’t, Putin likes the way you consume news and media. The Kursk, an Oscar class Soviet-designed submarine loaded with nuclear cruise missiles was participating in a large-scale naval operation intended to intimidate the West. Well, so much for that. The sub captain was warned their Big Bertha missile was running a little too hot, but he chose to continue anyway—and then boom.

Mikhail Averin will try to keep the rag tag remnant of survivors alive in the aft chambers, in the vain hope a rescue party will reach them in time. Admiral Vyacheslav Grudzinsky is willing to do whatever it takes to save the Kursk crewmembers, including accepting the help of British and Norwegian recovery specialists. Unfortunately, the top brass above him drags their feet, hoping a barely sea-worthy Russian submersible can get the job done instead, for reasons of propaganda ad paranoia. Of course, Grudzinsky understands better than anyone how badly the Russian rescue teams have been equipped and maintained in recent years.

What happened to the men of the Kursk (and the 71 children they left behind) was a disgrace, but it inspires some of the films most intense scenes, like when Averin’s wife Tanya publicly shames Grudzinsky’s commanding officer at a media op. Frankly, it is hard to believe Putin was subsequently re-elected, but then again, its always been hard to believe, hasn’t it?

The Flemish Matthias Schoenaerts makes a credible Russian, but he is way too big to believe as a submariner. Regardless, his character is definitely a strong, silent stereotype. In fact, none of the Kursk crewmembers really stand out. In contrast. Peter Simonischek (Mr. Toni Erdmann) is terrific as Grudzinsky, conveying all his prickly contradictions as an old school loyalist, who also always happened to be a reformer by inclination. Likewise, Colin Firth adds some heft and authority as Commodore David Russell, Grudzinsky’s old friendly rival. Of course, Max Von Sydow effortlessly projects sophisticated menace as the sinister, obfuscating Russian Navy chief.

The scenes aboard the Kursk look appropriately dark, dank, and confined, but the film is still a long way removed from the dogme95 movement of which Vinterberg was once considered a leader. Some of his old admirers might find it satisfying to see him doing some interesting things here with aspect ratio shifts. Yet, this is one of the rare submarine films that has its best moments above water (sort of making it the polar opposite of Das Boot, the series). Recommended for fans of military drama, The Command opens today (6/21) in New York, at the Cinema Village.

Genius: Maxwell Perkins Edits Thomas Wolfe

Maxwell Perkins fostered the development of Twentieth Century American literature like no other, as the editor of Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Sherwood Anderson, Dawn Powell, and James Jones. He always made his p&l’s editing Taylor Caldwell, but the “Perkin’s touch” also guided his literary luminaries to bestseller status. Perhaps none of Perkins’ bestsellers were as unlikely as Thomas Wolfe’s Look Homeward, Angel and of Time and the River, nor were any of his other professional dealings as tempestuous as those with the Southern Modernist. Their storied editor-author, surrogate father-and-son relationship is dramatized in Michael Grandage’s Genius (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

The Great Depression is in its early days, but Perkins’ world remains untouched. He lines edits during the day at the prestigious publishing house Charles Scribner’s Sons, returning to his quiet home outside the City in the evenings. Thomas Wolfe hardly seems to have noticed the current state of affairs either. The garrulous writer seems to live in his own little world, financially maintained by his formerly married lover, Aline Bernstein. Thanks to her support, he has completed an intimidatingly long manuscript that has been rejected by nearly every house in New York—but not Scribner’s.

Much to everyone’s surprise, Perkins agrees to buy what was then known as O Lost, but he insists Wolfe trim some of its girth. The novelist is amenable in principle, but he will fight for every phrase and passage. It will be a difficult editorial process, but it yields Look Homeward, Angel—and the rest is history. While still enjoying the success of his first novel, Wolfe delivers his second, the even more ambitious and unruly Of Time and the River, which will make the editorial give-and-take for his first book look like child’s play.

It looks somewhat odd to see the definitive American book editor and three of the greatest American novelists of the Modern era played by three Brits and an Australian, but at least that spares us the spectacle of little Leo DiCaprio trying to fill Hemingway’s shoes or Ryan Gosling moping about as Fitzgerald. First and foremost, Colin Firth has the perfect urbane sophistication and Ivy League reserve for the patrician Perkins. Jude Law can get a bit theatrical as Wolfe, but the novelist’s Walt Whitman expansiveness is hard resist unleashing. Regardless, he develops some nice master-apprentice chemistry with Firth.

Dominic West clearly has a blast chewing the scenery in his brief appearance as Papa Hemingway, but it is Guy Pearce who really gives the film some tragic heft as the Zelda and alcoholism afflicted Fitzgerald. Similarly, Nicole Kidman’s complex portrayal of the difficult, desperately possessive, but not unsympathetic Rubenstein will probably be overlooked or unfairly discounted. However, Laura Linney is grossly under-employed as Louise Perkins.

Screenwriter John Logan’s adaptation of A. Scott Berg’s biography, Max Perkins: Editor of Genius actually shows an understanding of how the book business worked in the 1920s and 1930s. Unlike The Girl in the Book, there are no misuses of publishing jargon to make industry professionals wince. It is also a classy period production that even includes an era appropriate jazz club sequence, featuring appropriately swinging Jools Holland Big Band sidemen (Kenji Fenton, Winston Rollins, and Chris Storr).

Frankly, it is just refreshing to see a film that believes Wolfe’s prose is worthy of feature treatment. It is a highly literate film that respects American culture and the circumstances that shaped it. Recommended with affection for those who admire and re-read Perkins’ stable of authors, Genius opens this Friday (6/10) in New York.

Stars in Shorts: Branagh, Firth, Knightley, and Company

Following his epic adaptation of Henry V, Sir Kenneth Branagh’s third Academy Award nomination came for a short film—a treatment of Chekhov’s Swan Song.  Although he has now reinvented himself as a tent-pole director, with the new Jack Ryan thriller on the way, Branagh periodically returns to shorter forms of filmmaking.  That is indeed Branagh appearing as the villain in Benjamin Grayson’s Prodigal, which screens as part of Shorts International’s Stars in Shorts program (trailer here), opening this Friday at the IFC Center.

While Branagh is a delight as Mark Snow, the head of a shadowy research group (and namesake of the X-Files composer), Prodigal (trailer here) largely recycles a number of the themes and motifs familiar from Chris Carter’s television series.  David O’Neill regrets entrusting Samantha, his young daughter with powerful telekinetic abilities, to the Prodigal institution.  He enlists the help of a secretive branch of the federal government, but in retrospect, this is probably a further mistake.  Aside from Branagh, the cast is a bit colorless, but Prodigal certainly looks like a polished production.  Fans of Winter Ave Zoli (from Sons of Anarchy) will be also interested to see her as David’s wife Angela.

Probably the funniest short of the block is Robert Festinger’s The Procession, starring Lily Tomlin and the sort of starrish Jesse Tyler Ferguson as the shallowest, most self-centered mother-and-son tandem you would never want to be trapped in a car with during a funeral procession.  It basically plays like an unproduced episode of Seinfeld or Curb Your Enthusiasm, but it works.

One of the standouts of the program, Rupert Friend’s Steve also starts out in a somewhat comedic vibe, but takes a decidedly dark turn.  A couple’s bickering is interrupted by a neighbor’s seemingly reasonable inquiry about a leak.  However, the title character will be back, with weirder complaints.  He will also expect tea.  Colin Firth is memorably off as Steve, while the glammed down Keira Knightley is convincingly harried as his reluctant host.  It is a nice short acting showcase, fittingly helmed by Friend, recognizable as the protag-journalist in Renny Harlin’s 5 Days of War, among other big screen roles.

Film and sound editor Jay Kamen’s Not Your Time is pretty amusing as well.  Featuring Jason Alexander as Sid Rosenthal, an editor who always wanted to helm a Busby Berkley musical, it mines Player style laughs by featuring a cast of Hollywood insiders as themselves.  Music students will also appreciate Kamen’s send-up of atonal avant-garde classical composition.  While the humor is distinctly dark, Alexander’s shticky persona best fits brief running times, like NYT’s twenty five minutes.

Neil LaBute continues to seek redemption for his The Wicker Man remake with two characteristically cutting contributions.  Jacob Chase’s After School Special, written by LaBute, is an ironic twist kind of short, with its name “star,” Wes Bentley, not really factoring in the business end of the film.  Nonetheless, the closing scene definitely stings.  Sexting, both penned and helmed by the playwright, builds to a more obvious punchline, but Julia Stiles is deliciously catty as the other woman, burying herself in a mountain of LaButian dialogue.  It is smart gig for Stiles, who was terrif in Shakespeare in the Park’s Twelfth Night years ago, but seems to get the dumbest parts offered to her.

Perhaps the slightest constituent film is also the one with the greatest built in audience anticipation.  In Chris Foggin’s Friend Request Pending Dame Judi Dench and her crony engage in a bit of social networking and cyber flirtation, presumably before they nip off to India’s greener retirement pastures.  One of the floating heads on the program poster, Tim Hiddleston also eventually appears in a jokey cameo during Pending’s closing seconds.  A harmless reunion of My Week With Marilyn assistant director Foggin and co-stars Dench and Penny Ryder, it will probably endear itself to the Marigold Hotel set.

Though shorts programs are often inconsistent by their aggregated nature, there is no out and out clunker in Stars.  Steve might be the high point, but it notably represents a good way to see Branagh, Stiles, and LaBute doing their thing.  Recommended for fans of short films and LaBute, Stars in Shorts opens this Friday (9/28) in New York at the IFC Center.

From Spare to Heir: The King’s Speech

Primogeniture can be a risky roll of the dice. Though 1936 was not a convenient year for a constitutional crisis, it afforded the United Kingdom an opportunity to correct a mistake of fate. Rumored to be a fascist sympathizer, Edward VIII’s abdication allowed for the ascension of his younger brother, subsequently known as King George VI, a former Royal Naval officer tailor-made to be a war-time monarch. However, well before he succeeded his brother, a persistent stammer complicated his official duties. A genuine prestige picture based on the true story of how Prince Albert, Duke of York found his royal voice, Tom Hooper’s The King Speech (trailer here) opens this Friday in New York after recently launching MoMA’s 2010 Contenders series.

Though overshadowed by his more dashing older brother, the future ex-king, Prince Albert always does his duty. Their father King George V might not be the warmest of parents, but he recognizes Albert’s greater substance, which is why he pushes him to take a more active role on behalf of the royal family. Unfortunately, this involves a fair amount of public speaking. After a number of excruciatingly painful addresses, the Prince reluctantly consults with Lionel Logue, a frustrated actor and unorthodox speech therapist.

At first, they seem to be a bad match, yet Logue is the only specialist who seems to get results. An unlikely friendship even starts to develop, but great challenges loom over the British Empire. His brother might have confidence “Herr Hitler” can satisfactorily “sort out Europe,” but Conservative backbenchers like Winston Churchill are much less sanguine. Further complicating matters, even after his brother assumed the throne, he continues carrying on with the scandalous Wallis Simpson, a twice divorced American of dubious repute.

Hooper, who previously helmed the vastly different historical drama The Damned United, shows a nimble touch with what could be dismissed as over-inflated Masterpiece Theater material. He starts Speech essentially as a three-hander, as Prince Albert, Lady Elizabeth (the future Queen Mother), and the somewhat eccentric Logue secretly meet in his working class quarters to tackle that stammer. Yet, it slowly unfolds to show the bigger picture of an England fighting for its very survival.

Although Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush are essentially co-leads of equal weight, the Weinstein Company is reportedly positioning Colin Firth for best actor and Geoffrey Rush for best supporting actor, as King VI and Logue, respectively. Even in Hollywood, it is evidently good to be the king. Still, for most cinema patrons, this really just means Speech has the good fortune of two very strong central performances. Indeed, Firth perfectly personifies the stiff upper lip fortitude associated with the best of British royalty. Likewise, Rush gives his best performance since Shine, projecting “common” dignity as Logue. It is a performance of genuine humanity and of course, excellent elocution. Though not required to stretch as much dramatically, Helena Bonham Carter delivers some of the films sharpest quips with appropriate aplomb as Lady/Queen Elizabeth.

Not simply another British drawing room drama, Speech offers a portrait of nobility that lives up to its title. Gentle yet stirring, it is probably the best PR the House of Windsor has had in years. It is also one of the best films considered to be in contention for the upcoming award season. Highly recommended, Speech opens this Friday (11/26) in New York at the Lincoln Square and Union Square Theaters.