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Posts Tagged ‘Helen Mirren’

Sasha Luss

“ANNA” My rating: B- (Netflix)

118 minutes | MPAA rating: R

“Anna” is a guilty pleasure, delivering just enough cheese/sleaze to satisfy a viewer’s baser instincts but wrapping it all up in a clever storytelling style that keeps us on our toes and guessing.

I didn’t realize until watching the final credits that this spy thriller was written and directed by French icon Luc Besson…but I should have guessed.  “Anna” is basically a remix of Besson’s 1990 hit “La Femme Nikita.”

Both films center on a young woman recruited by a spy agency and trained as a ruthless assassin specializing in seduction and mayhem.

This time around our heroine is the Russian orphan Anna (Sasha Luss), a loner who becomes one of the KGB’s most relentless killers while working as a fashion model in Paris. Besson’s plot finds her undertaking a host of dangerous missions, often disguised by wigs.

What’s intriguing is the film’s structure.  After each kill the film flashes back to reveal that what we assumed about the mission was in fact wrong, that there were hidden intentions and meanings that shot right by us. With this setup what might otherwise be just a series of violent encounters instead triggers jaw-dropping revelations.

The supporting cast ain’t bad, either.  “Anna” counts two Oscar winners on its roster:  Helen Mirren is a delight as the chain-smoking cynical Russian spymaster who controls Anna’s life; Cillian Murphy is a CIA agent who tries to turn our girl to America’s interests.  And Luke Evans is just fine as the Anna’s field handler.

I was initially unimpressed by Luss’s turn as Anna…pretty but vacant.  Over time, though, one realizes that Anna is playing a long con on everyone…the Russians, the Americans and especially the audience. She’s revealing to each of these demographics only enough about herself to keep her plans in play.

Smart girl.

Hans Zimmer

“HANS ZIMMER: HOLLYWOOD REBEL”My rating: B (Netflix)

60 minutes | No MPAA rating

Checking out composer Hans Zimmer’s IMDB page is pretty mind-boggling.  The two-time Oscar winner has scored some of the seminal films of the last 40 years: 

“Gladiator,” “Dune,” virtually all of Christopher Nolan’s movies, “Thelma & Louise,” “A League of Their Own,” “The Lion King,” “Muppet Treasure Island,” “The Thin Red Line,” the “Mission: Impossible” franchise, “Black Hawk Down,” “The Last Samurai,” “The Da Vinci Code,” “The Pirates of the Caribbean” franchise, “Kung Fu Panda,” “12 Years a Slave,” “Hidden Figures,” “Blade Runner 2049,” “Dune,” “Top Gun: Maverick.”

Not to mention a ton of documentaries and a little TV show called “The Simpsons.” 

Francis Hanly’s “Hans Zimmer: Hollywood Rebel” can’t really explain Zimmer’s astonishing productivity and creativity (“superhuman” doesn’t seem too hyperbolic), but it does provide in a neat, one-hour session an intriguing overview of the man’s life and career.

What struck me most about the German-born Zimmer’s work is his reliance on atmosphere and rhythm over melody.  Some of my favorite movie scores (Jerry Fielding’s work on “The Wild Bunch,” for example) are less about delivering tunes than creating a sonic background reflecting the emotional tenor of the scene. 

This is what Zimmer does so well, often working alone at a keyboard/synthesizer to create sonic landscapes that only later are performed by a full orchestra (or not…Zimmer excels at mimimalist arrangements as well).  

The man appears to be unflaggingly good natured, if dangerously obsessive about his work.  His grown children describe him as an absentee father, though in recent years he’s been working to make up for lost time.

His coworkers and the directors he’s composed for — James L. Brooks, Stephen Frears, Ron Howard, Barry Levinson, Steve McQueen, Christopher Nolan, Denis Villeneuve, etc. — can’t wait to team up with him again and again.

Kingsley Ben-Adir

“BOB MARLEY: ONE LOVE” *My rating: B (Apple+)

107 minutes | MPAA rating: PG-13

I never saw “Bob Marley: One Love” in the theater. This may have been an OK thing, since I would have missed half the dialogue, which is delivered in a thick Jamaican/Rasta patois.

So let’s hear a round of applause for streaming service captioning.

Reinald Marcus Green’s film (it was written by  Terence Winter, Frank E. Flowers and Zach Baylin) is essentially hagiographic, but still compelling. 

We get the essentials on Marley’s brief but impactful life…his conflicts over the white father he never knew, his Jamaican nationalism (during the violent 1976 national election he was the target of an assassination attempt), his embracing of Rastafarianism (if you’re going to go whole hog into religious silliness, that’s the coolest option), his prodigious ganga consumption.

Marley is played by Brit actor Kingsley Ben-Adir, who doesn’t resemble Marley all that much but who nails his body language and stage presence.  Lashanda Lynch is fine as his wife and backup singer Rita Marley (and she has a terrific third-act eruption confronting her husband over his infidelities). 

But the real star of the show is the music itself.  It’s just one damn great song after another; Marley was reggae’s greatest tunesmith and lyricist, laying down spectacularly produced tracks that are yet to be equalled.  

| Robert W. Butler

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Jim Broadbent, Helen Mirren

“THE DUKE” My rating: B (In theaters)

95 minutes | MPAA rating: R

For all of their perceived stuffiness, the British do love their eccentrics. And in Kempton Bunton — portrayed in Roger Michell’s funny/stirring “The Duke” by the great Jim Broadbent — they had one of the best.

In 1961 Bunton, a 60-year-old taxi driver (among other gigs…the man couldn’t hold a job), was tried for stealing from the National Gallery a portrait of the Duke of Wellington by the great Spanish artist Goya.

A few weeks after the painting went missing Bunto strolled into the museum with the stolen artwork wrapped in brown paper, handed it to a guard and promptly admitted to the theft.

His defense was that the government had, to prevent the painting being returned to Spain, spent 140,000 pounds to purchase the portrait (which, most everyone agreed, wasn’t particularly good even if it did depict a British hero), and that all that money could have been better used to promote the common welfare.

Like, for instance, paying the TV tax of poor English families. From the late 1940s through 2000 British TV owners paid an annual tax meant to underwrite the operations of the BBC. Bunton was on a personal crusade against what he saw as an unfair and regressive tax; in fact he’d briefly gone to prison for failing to pay his own TV tax. (His novel defense was that he’d disabled his set so that it could pick up commercial stations but not the BBC, and therefore he didn’t owe the government a farthing.)

Scripted by Richard Bean and Clive Coleman and directed by Roger Michell (his last film, finished shortly before his death last year), “The Duke” starts out as a study in oddball populism and gradually picks up weight and substance until it’ll damn near have you choking back tears.

Broadbent was clearly born to play Bunton, a character of Dickensian dimensions. A perennial writer of letters to the editor, a critic of the Brit class system and an ambitious but unperformed playwright, the man is always getting into trouble.

But here’s the thing…Kempton Bunton is wildly entertaining. You can’t tell if he’s deliberately giving the middle finger to decorum and propriety, or whether he’s a sort of political/social idiot savant. He delights court watchers with his rapid-fire comebacks (asked where he was born, Bunton replies without missing a beat: “The back bedroom”). At one point the judge cautions that he’s not auditioning for a musical.

Matthew Goode

If Bunton is a rising folk hero in the Old Bailey, he’s in the doghouse at home.

His wife Dorothy (Helen Mirren, dowdied down to the nines) has just about had it with him. While her husband loses job after job she slogs away as a cleaning lady for rich folk. Moreover, she blames him for the death a few years before of their teenage daughter (the movie never really makes clear why she would think that, but there it is).

And, she notes, Kempton is a terrible role model for his two boys, especially the younger, Jackie (Fionn Whitehead), who soaks up his pa’s antiestablishment attitudes. (Indeed, as things progress Jackie, in a nifty plot twist, becomes a pivotal figure in his father’s fate.)

Matthew Goode has a juicy supporting role as Bunton’s defense attorney, who has the good sense to simply let his client be himself on the stand, thus winning the hearts of Englishmen everywhere.

“Torn from the headlines” usually indicates a tragedy in the offing. In case of Kempton Bunton it means head-shaking delights.

| Robert W. Butler

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Will Smith, Helen Mirren

Will Smith, Helen Mirren

“COLLATERAL BEAUTY” My rating: C-

97 minutes | MPAA rating: PG-13

“Collateral Beauty” starts out as an imaginative riff on that old chestnut “A Christmas Carol.”

Alas, it ends by leaving the audience feeling used and abused.

The latest from director David Frankel (“The Devil Wears Prada,” “Marley and Me,” “Hope Springs”) stars Will Smith as Howard, the poet/guru of a boutique advertising agency who, in the aftermath of his child’s death, has become a vacant-eyed wraith.

Howard still comes to the office, but he no longer services clients or gives New Age-y pep talks to the staff. Now he devotes his energy to building elaborate domino constructions which he then destroys in gravity-fueled chain reactions.

His partners in the firm — Whit (Edward Norton), Claire (Kate Winslet) and Simon (Michael Pena) — are frantic. With Howard in a funk their business is circling the drain…it’s looking like all they’ll be getting for Christmas are unemployment checks.

So they come up with a desperate — and, BTW, wildly unethical — plan.  Learning that Howard has been mailing agonizing letters to Death, Love and Time (you’ve got to wonder what the Post Office does with them), they hire three struggling actors to portray those very concepts.

The idea  is to have these “spirits” pop in unexpectedly on Howard. Hopefully these confrontations with the Great Unknown will push him out of his shell of grief and misery.

Hmmm. What possibly could go wrong with an elaborate metaphysical ruse thrust upon a severely depressed individual?

The  actors (they’re members of the Hegel Theater Company, which suggests they have struggles of their own) take the job because they need the cash — they’re about to lose the lease on their theater.

The leader and mother hen of the bunch is Brigitte (Helen Mirren), who will embody Death.  Amy (Keira Knightley) will approach Howard as Love.  Raffi (Jacob Latimore) will perform the role of Time.

Brigitte, played by Mirren as amusing font of actorish ego and process, thinks this could be the performance of her lifetime:  “He’s reaching out to the cosmos for answers. We get to be that cosmos.”

Brigitte is such an old ham than when her colleagues question the morality of the gig, she eagerly volunteers to play all three roles.

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eyesky“EYE IN THE SKY”  My rating: B

102  minutes | MPAA rating: R

 

In the wars of the 21st century drones and robots do all the dirty work, directed by mouse jockeys on the other side of the world who risk little more than a case of carpal tunnel syndrome.

But even if you’re one of those remote-control button pushers, it’s still war. It’s still killing. There are still ethical consequences.

Gavin Hood’s “Eye in the Sky” offers a fingernail-gnawing look at this new kind of warfare. Scripted by Guy Hibbert, it’s a taut well-acted thriller that raises all sorts of moral questions — Hitchcock with a conscience.

Aaron Paul

Aaron Paul

At various points around the globe, high-tech warriors gather to capture a husband-and-wife team of Islamic terrorists (she’s a British citizen, he’s an American) operating in East Africa.

The actual takedown will be executed on the ground by Kenyan security forces. The operation will be observed from 22,000 feet by an armed American drone, the mission’s “eye in the sky” operated by an Air Force pilot [Air Force Lt. Steve Watts] (Aaron Paul) from the desert outside Las Vegas.

In charge of the overall mission is a calculating British Army colonel [Col. Katherine Powell] (Helen Mirren), who from her bunker in the English countryside has been directing a manhunt lasting more than six years. She can almost taste the long-awaited victory.

In a comfortable London office a British general (Alan Rickman in one of his last roles) sits with a group of civilian government officials watching it all unfold on closed-circuit television. They’re standing by to give their legal opinions and, ultimately, permission for the mission to continue.

But from the beginning the operation hits snags. The targets relocate to a village in terrorist-controlled territory where ground forces are denied entry.

A sole undercover agent (“Captain Phillips’” Barkhad [Barked] Abdi) gets close enough to set loose a tiny surveillance drone that looks like a large flying insect (apparently our arsenal holds all sorts of marvelous toys); from its fly-on-the-wall vantage point inside the house this tiny spy reveals that the residents are suiting up for a suicide bomb attack.

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Bryan Cranston as screenwriter Dalton Trumbo

Bryan Cranston as screenwriter Dalton Trumbo

“TRUMBO” My rating: B 

124 minutes | MPAA rating: R

Bryan Cranston is very good as Dalton Trumbo, the screenwriter/Communist/bon vivant/savage wit who won two Oscars under pseudonyms while blacklisted for his politics.

But who would have predicted that “Trumbo” would practically be stolen out from under the multiple Emmy winner by Helen Mirren and John Goodman?

It’s a surfeit of riches.

Dalton Trumbo was contradictory, infuriating, self-righteous, pompous, and wickedly funny. He was very well paid and lived on a sprawling California ranch (earning criticism for being a “swimming pool Soviet”) but appears to have been utterly sincere about making the United States a better place.

He joined the Communist Party of the U.S. largely out of his opposition to fascism in Europe (and, let’s be honest, at home as well). That came back to bite him in the ass after WWII when America went Commie crazy and the House Un-American Activities Committee subpoenaed Trumbo and other Hollywood leftists in a search for Red influence in popular entertainment.

Ten of these unfriendly witnesses refused to answer questions, standing on their Fifth Amendment rights and the fact that joining the Communist Party was perfectly legal.

They were convicted of contempt of Congress (Trumbo publicly acknowledged that he was indeed hugely contemptuous of the bullying Congress), spent a year in prison and emerged to find themselves unable to work in the film or television industry.

Most saw their careers ruined. Trumbo began cranking out screenplays under fake names. Much of his work of this period was pure exploitative schlock, but two of his scripts — for “Roman Holiday” and “The Brave One” — won Oscars, although of course Trumbo could not acknowledge they were his work.

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Helen Mirren, Ryan Reynolds

Helen Mirren, Ryan Reynolds

“WOMAN IN GOLD” My rating: B- 

109 minutes | MPAA rating: PG-13

Despite a tendency to dilute its message with easily digestible Hollywood moments, “Woman in Gold” provides the formidable Helen Mirren with yet another juicy role while raising some thought-provoking questions about art, ownership, and societal upheaval.

The subject is the real-life pursuit of California transplant Maria Altmann (Mirren) to reclaim several paintings stolen from her Jewish family in Vienna by the Nazis. The most  important piece is Gustav Klimt’s “Lady in Gold,” also known as “Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer” (Adele was Maria Altmann’s aunt). It and several additional Klimt paintings were looted by the Germans and after the war became the property of the Austrian state.

This film from director Simon Curtis (“My Week with Marilyn”)  follows parallel narratives  separated by six decades.

In the modern day  — roughly 1998 to 2006 — we follow the efforts of the octogenarian Altmann, operator of a high-end  Los Angeles fashion shop, to reclaim her family’s artwork. In this she is assisted by struggling lawyer Randol Schoenberg (Ryan Reynolds), whose own family history is rooted in Austria — he is the grandson of classical composer Arnold Schoenberg.

They make for an odd couple legal team. Maria is a friend of Randol’s mother and hopes that he will “help me out on the side…like a hobby.” She’s opinionated, sometimes brusque and in your face.

Randol, on the other hand, is not terribly successful and struggling to make ends meet. He only fully gets involved when he realizes that the paintings Maria hopes to recover are worth upwards of $150 million.

Problem is, the Austrian government sees them as priceless, as part of that nation’s psyche, with “Lady in Gold” often compared to the “Mona Lisa.”  Maria’s initial efforts are rebuffed, and it is only after she sues the Austrian government through the American legal system — a case that will go all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court — that her efforts gain any traction.

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Om Puri and Helen Mirren

Om Puri and Helen Mirren

“THE HUNDRED-FOOT JOURNEY” My rating: B  (Opening wide on Aug. 8)

122 minutes | MPAA rating: PG

Moviegoers are forgiven for approaching “The Hundred-Foot Journey” with foreboding. From the ads one might reasonably conclude that this is yet another middlebrow movie tailor-made to soothe (but never challenge) the sensibilities of the art house blue-hair brigade.

Well, Lasse Hallstrom’s film is definitely middlebrow, and it is certainly soothing — but it’s also very well acted and emotionally potent. It  introduces two newcomers (quite possibly the handsomest couple I’ve seen on screen in ages) who will, if there is any justice, become overnight stars. And they are perfectly complemented by two cinema veterans at the top of their game.

Plus, “The Hundred-Foot Journey” is, God help me, life-affirming, albeit without feeling manipulative. (I don’t mind when a movie makes me cry…only when it twists my arm to achieve that effect.)

The widower  Kadam (Om Puri) has fled political upheaval in his native India and with his five children has opened a restaurant outside London. But the weather sucks and now they are driving around Europe, trying to find a place to settle down. (Granted, this doesn’t sound like a terribly smart business plan, but since Kadam still converses regularly with his dead wife, you’ve got to assume cosmic forces are in play.)

The family’s van breaks down in a postcard-perfect French burg (it’s got a river, rolling hills and a view of the mountains) and Kadam gloms onto an abandoned building that he believes could become the home for his new Indian restaurant.

Problem is, it sits just across the road (100 feet away, to be precise) from a Michelin-starred French restaurant operated for decades by the widow Madame Mallory (Helen Mirren). Mallory is a shrewish lady who lives and breathes haute cuisine, and she is appalled by the Kadam family’s blaring Bollywood music, the garish colors of their restaurant’s decor, and the heavily-spiced odors that drift across the road and into her stuffy establishment. (“If your food is anything like your music, I suggest you tone it down.”)

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Sam Riley, Andrea Riseborough in "Brighton Rock"

“BRIGHTON ROCK” My rating: B- (Opening Oct. 7 at the Glenwood at Red Bridge)

111 minutes | No MPAA rating

For his feature film directing debut, Rowan Joffe (he was the screenwriter for George Clooney’s “The American” and the zombie flick “28 Weeks Later”) has turned to the classics, so to speak.

Or at least to Graham Greene.

“Brighton Rock” is the second screen adaptation of Greene’s 1938 novel about a ruthless young hoodlum and his naive girlfriend in the titular British resort town.

The original 1947 film made a star of young Richard Attenborough, who played the amoral young thug Pinkie Brown; it’s unlikely the same will be said of any of the cast members of this version.

Not that the film is poorly acted. It isn’t. But even with a happy ending tacked on (the same happy ending tacked onto the previous version), this is a sad, soul-sucking experience.

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Jessica Chastain, Sam Worthington

“THE DEBT” My rating: C+ (Opening wide Aug. 31)

114 minutes | MPAA rating: R

It’s got star power out the wazoo, yet “The Debt” feels slight and perfunctory.

It certainly never achieves the depths it is so clearly aiming for; perhaps this remake of a hit Israeli thriller requires an Israeli audience to truly appreciate the morally conflicted situation it presents.

John Madden’s film takes place in two decades separated by 30 years. In the present (actually the mid-1990’s) we have the publication of a book about one of Mossad’s most celebrated operations: the 1966 capture and elimination of German war criminal Dieter Vogel, the notorious “Surgeon of Birkenau” who conducted fiendish “medical” experiments on Jewish prisoners.

The agents who undertook that mission — Rachel Singer (Helen Mirren), her husband Stephan Gold (Tom Wilkinson) and David Peretz (Ciaran Hinds) — long have been regarded as national heroes.

But the book’s publication opens old wounds, for these three know their story is based on a lie.

Okay, that’s a good premise.

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