Bruce Beresford’s Mao’s Last Dancer is a film that cannot decide what it wants to be. The story of a Chinese dancer who comes to Reagan’s America finding not only a passion for ballet but himself, it is one part anti-communist manifesto with doses of Asian fetishism, one part immigration caper, one part love story, one part alien comes to the suburbs adventure (think Mac and Me) and one part dance film. The trouble is that only one of these facets, the dance film, actually rises above the patina of Hollywood fit and finish that will make you want to walk out of this film. It’s not that Mr. Beresford made a terrible film, he simply made one that discounts the last twenty years worth of intellectual growth we have achieved both as filmgoers and international citizens. Read on…

If a mashup of Gossip Girl, Crash and Traffic doesn’t sound appealing to you, then you should probably skip Joel Schumacher’s disastrous Twelve. If that does sound right up your alley, then you’re beyond help so do whatever you want. In what appears to have been thrown together over a few weekends (it was actually shot in 23 days), the film follows White Mike (Chace Crawford) a straight-edge drug dealer who tailors to the Upper East Side’s teenage addicted denizens, over a fateful three day period in which everything changes for everyone, or some such nonsense. It’s a mess. Read on…

It is with grace, care and patience that Danish director Nicolo Donato brings Brotherhood (Broderskab) to life. A love story about homosexual neo-nazis, the plot is a fuse that others may not see the point in lighting. It may sound too high concept to work, but Donato has brought a surprisingly affecting story to life by developing rich emotional palettes for the film’s main players, avoiding moral proselytization.

Like many tales of unrequited love, this one gets off to a clunky start. At the outset we meet Lars (Thure Lindhardt), a son of privilege on course for a successful military career, is left unemployed after his underlings accuse him of making advances at them. In an only moderately believable turn of events, he happens upon a local chapter of white supremacists while drinking his worries away at a friend’s house. Initially disgusted by their beliefs, he is drawn to them, or rather pulled in for his eloquence and obvious curiosity. Kicked out of his house after beating a Muslim, Lars is forced to move into the summer home of the movement’s leader. There, he and Jimmy (David Dencik), a senior member of the organization, must fix the place up in its owners absence between party meetings, mosh pits and beachside burnings. They drink organic beer and red wine, work at a snail’s pace and go for dips in the lake when the mood strikes them. It is seemingly the plush life for these bigots. Read on…

Halfway through the summer our cinematic bloodlust has been sated: heroes worshiped, vampires sucked dry, minds thoroughly fucked. Now, at long last, the time has come to be tickled, and director Jay Roach delivers big with Dinner for Schmucks, undoubtedly the biggest laugh-fest of the season. The plot is weak and the resolution full of tired cornballery, but just as with his other franchises, Austin Powers and Meet the Parents, Roach shows off his uncany ability to craft taut comic setpieces, each more involved and convoluted than the next.

Paul Rudd plays Tim Conrad, a “stock broker, or something” looking to rise to the heighst of the seventh floor by reeling in $100 million Swedish client. The only thing between Tim and a juicy promotion is an idiot for a monthly dinner held by his boss, in which a cabal of douchebags gathers to make fun of the dumbest guest. To appease his kindhearted girlfriend (Stephanie Szostak), Tim turns the dinner down until he (literally) runs into Barry Speck, a lovable doofus played by Steve Carell. An amateur taxidermist who fits deceased rodents into his “mouseterpieces”, Barry turns out to be the perfect person to get Tim’s foot in the door. As he has done consistently ever since his smash success with 40-Year Old Virgin, Carell shines. Though Barry shares a number of ticks and mannerisms with The Office’s Michael Scott, there is no question that he is a wholly original take on the empathetic schlemiel. Read on…

One of the greatest aesthetic strengths of Dogtooth’s execution is perhaps its implicit nature, one that intentionally confuses and overwhelms to illustrate the horrific outcomes of a concerned parental nature. Director Giorgos Lanthimos gives little exposition to grasp, expecting an attentive audience to catch the complex designs of the world created by the Greek parents of secluded children, but also to ignite an empathetic confusion that these children would experience if allowed to view the world beyond their parent’s design. The film’s approach towards audience engagement is unconventional, yet brilliantly metaphoric (hence it’s Un Certain Regard award), yet Dogtooth is also quite traditional in its coming-of-age themes and agenda, all appropriate combinations for a world cinema classic. Read on…

The following review was originally written for Heeb Magazine during SXSW 2010. Reposting here for the film’s limited release.

If you’re not familiar with Sundance regulars Jay and Mark Duplass, you will be once Cyrus drops later this year. After multiple shorts, these indie golden boys (two of the originators of the“mumblecore” genre) grabbed real star power for their first studio feature, with John C. Reilly, Jonah Hill and Marisa Tomei as an uncomfortably Oedipal love triangle. If the crowds at SXSW are any indication – and they are, check your old Oscar ballots – Cyrus will end up a huge romantic comedy hit, which will be amazing since so much of the movie is so damn creepy. Read on…

While these shorts provide for some great laughs, it’s the smart choices from intelligent directors that make these funny moments meaningful and memorable beyond their short duration.

Starting off the comedy block is commercial director Jeremy Berger’s The Van, which is able to provide some laughter due to it’s confident style and juxtaposition of Herman Melville’s poetics with a more crass modern humor. Although the image of a blow-up sex toy is paired with Moby Dick’s narrator description of his unhindered history of exploits plays on the social comedy of manners, the film unfortunately hit’s it’s peak. The chase between a biker messenger and the “white van” that assaults bikers is reliant upon technical proficiency rather than motivated by the psychological or emotional complexity of Melville. Perhaps what is lacking is the reason behind the pairing of the text of Moby Dick within the world of the bike-messenger that would really take the work into more complicated jokes, and perhaps become a more biting satire of contemporary eco-business warfare. Read on…

Lagueria Davis’ 1 in 3 is not so much a depiction of Lifetime–melodrama nor the exploitive horrors that are common in domestic abuse thrillers, but a more realistic drafting of the possibilities of subtle daily domestic violence. As a first feature, 1 in 3 is prone to raw craft, but it is the passion and careful intention of the film’s depiction of fear in domestic violence that allows the film to convey its message of strength and validate social advocacy.

An initial courtroom scene between Sydell, social service advocate, and her domestic violence client Angie defines several key concepts behind the film. As the judge hears another case, Sydell and Angie share a private dialogue through the passing of paper and pen. What Angie reveals is a fear of her abusive husband despite the safety of legal decisions. Though she may recognize the authority of the legal procedures, the fact remains that Angie’s voice is denied and the ramifications of this moment extend beyond the courtroom of rules. Angie’s husband not only proves the limits of legal restrictions when he pulls out a gun in a later scene, but also ignites the recognition of the realities behind Sydell’s job: a legal resolution does not stop the possibilities of violence, and perhaps forces an unintended silence of victims. While this sequence of events results in dramatic violence at the hands of a male aggressor and gunplay, the film reveals the forms of violence only begin with the physical and extend into one’s own complicity when fears become the driving force of daily decisions. Read on…