Lay the Favorite

Lay the Favorite - Dir. Stephen Frears (2012)

Stephen Frears has had a long and diverse career as a director. He's helmed some winners (High Fidelity) and some losers (Mary Reilly). Frears has also directed two Best Picture nominees in Dangerous Liaisons and The Queen. So you can't help but feel that he and his cast are slumming with Lay the Favorite.

Rebecca Hall plays Beth, a beautiful free-spirit whose life is going nowhere fast. She's a stripper who makes house calls and the occupation doesn't exactly thrill her. On a whim, Beth decides to pack her bags for Las Vegas in order to become a cocktail waitress. Hey, dream big, right?

Much to her chagrin, Beth quickly learns that the waitress industry is unionized and she has no way in. Thanks to a pair of friendly neighborhood strippers, Beth gets a job taking bets for a gambler named Dink (Bruce Willis), whose operation gives odds on every major sport along with beauty pageants and spelling bees. Despite an utter lack of experience, Beth catches on quickly thanks to a winning personality and a knack for numbers. In the process, she finds herself attracted to Dink. However, his temperament runs hot and cold depending on his luck and he has a controlling wife in Tulip (Catherine Zeta-Jones). Beth rebounds into the arms of Jeremy (Joshua Jackson), a nice and normal journalist in New York City. Finding herself without any job prospects in the Big Apple, Beth falls into old habits by going to work for Dink's rival, Rosie (Vince Vaughn). She doesn't seem fazed that bookmaking is illegal outside of Nevada.

Lay the Favorite is based on the memoirs of Beth Raymer, who chronicled her journey from stripping to working operations in the Caribbean and Costa Rica where bookmaking is unregulated. In between, she tried her hand at amateur boxing, which is never mentioned in the movie. Raymer certainly led an interesting life, but you would never know it according to the fictionalized account. Lay the Favorite prefers to be a mildly amusing romp with a few romantic comedy tropes and a smidgeon of the con artist picture that Frears toyed with previously in The Grifters and Dirty Pretty Things.

One of the reasons Lay the Favorite fails to engage is a lack of intriguing and sympathetic characters. It's hard to root for Beth when she consistently makes monumentally foolish mistakes, especially when they threaten to drag others down with her. Rebecca Hall is a fantastic actress and looks gorgeous here as she sashays around the Vegas strip in cut-off jean shorts. She pulls off the ditzy routine well and her speech patterns are somewhere in between Marilyn Monroe and Betty Boop. However, there's only so much Hall can do when the character is so thin. This is a case where Hall's boundless personality far exceeds the role. Her love story with Jeremy lacks any spark since he's an utterly bland romantic interest. Hall's scenes with Bruce Willis are of slightly more interest because the latter isn't simply sleepwalking through the movie. Willis brings a little of the energy that made him a star on Moonlighting.

Catherine Zeta-Jones is fun as Dink's overbearing wife though he eventually turns far too easily from harridan to kindly maternal figure. Laura Prepon of That 70's Show fame appears briefly as one of Beth's friends, although her look and bad southern accent may trick you into thinking she's Jamie Pressley Then, there's Vince Vaughn who is once again typecast as the fast-talking huckster and Corbin Bernsen in a throwaway cameo as Beth's father. If only the screenplay by D.V. DiVincentis were better. Frears has an A-list cast and gives them C-list material.

Lay the Favorite had the opportunity to be an enthralling exposé of the gambling world. Think Moneyball in Sin City. Instead, the movie puts it all on the line until the dice finally come up snake eyes. Nothing of note here other than Rebecca Hall's hotness and a brief topless scene by Prepon.

Rating: * ½ (*****)

Hesher

Hesher - Dir. Spencer Susser (2011)

Hesher is a movie I really wanted to like. The film stars the lovely Natalie Portman, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, and Rainn Wilson. It garnered a healthy amount of buzz on the festival circuit thanks to screenings at Sundance, SXSW, and even Comic-Con. This should have been a cool, little indie flick instead of a Frankenstein-esque cinematic creature stitched together from disparate clichés.

Young TJ (Devin Brochu) has suffered a tragic loss due to the death of his mother in an auto accident. His father, Paul (Wilson), suffers from a crippling depression. Paul does nothing aside from popping pills and sleeping on the couch, unshaven and unkempt. Grandma (Piper Laurie) shuffles around the house in her nightgown and slippers mindlessly going about her daily business. Both are oblivious of the deep pain TJ is in, which is made all the more worse by a ruthless bully. Then, along comes Hesher…

TJ unfortunately crosses paths with the titular Hesher (Gordon-Levitt) while he was squatting in a half-constructed house. Hesher is the prototypical heavy metal burnout with tattered clothes and long black hair. He has a tattoo of an extended middle finger across his back and a stick figure man blowing his own brains out on his chest. He cranks Motorhead from his black van, the kind usually driven by serial killers and 1980's garage bands. At first you think Hesher might be some ethereal character existing solely in the imagination of TJ. He seems to be the boy's raw id unchained by a fragile psyche. Hesher even appears mysteriously into a scene to the blaring, opening guitar riffs of "The Shortest Straw" by Metallica.

Alas, Hesher is not the Kerrang! version of Harvey. He is all too real and he isn't the most genial person around. Hesher decides to crash at TJ's house. He strips down to his tightie whities, smokes like a chimney, and rigs the cable so he can get all the porn channels for free. When TJ protests, Hesher grabs him by the throat and threatens to do unspeakable things to the kid's genitals. He doesn't bother to help TJ when the bully shoves his face into a urinal. Nope, Hesher's response is to drag TJ along while he torches the tormentor's car, then ditches him to face the wrath of the authorities.

Portman (who also served as a producer) dons a pair of vintage nerd glasses to play Nicole, a supermarket clerk who saves TJ from a beating. TJ develops a crush on her (who wouldn’t?) so Hesher naturally shows up to sabotage their budding friendship.

Hesher somehow manages to put this broken family back together as they struggle through the various stages of grief. He is by no means a saintly big brother figure. He is violent and crude, but is infused with a semblance of humanity thanks to Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s performance. The highlight of the film is easily a final act monologue delivered by Hesher that is darkly humorous and oddly affecting. Gordon-Levitt displays a lot of manic energy that director Spencer Susser (who also co-wrote the script with Animal Kingdom’s David Michod) is unable to properly tap.

Hesher is tonally inconsistent as it bounces around from black comedy to cornball drama. It feels like a metal song that whips back and forth between devil-horn headbanging chords to lighter waving ballad notes without a moment's notice.

Rating: ** (*****)

Shutter Island

Shutter Island - Dir. Martin Scorsese (2010)


Martin Scorsese.

That’s all you need to know. Emblazon that name on the marquee and you’ve got my ticket money. He’s tackled gritty crime films, Merchant-Ivory style drama, and documentaries. Scorsese delves into new territory with the gothic thriller, Shutter Island, based on the novel by Dennis Lehane whose novels Mystic River and Gone Baby Gone have also been adapted to film. Shutter Island can best be described as Samuel Fuller’s Shock Corridor by way of M. Night Shyamalan.

Scorsese collaborates with Leonardo DiCaprio for the fourth time. Still hanging on to his Departed Boston accent, Leo takes the lead as U.S. Marshal Teddy Daniels. Along with partner Chuck Aule (Mark Ruffalo), Daniels is sent to Shutter Island to investigate the disappearance of a patient at Ashecliff, a former Civil War fort turned into an asylum for the criminally insane.

Daniels is still haunted by his service during World War II in which his unit liberated a concentration camp. Not to mention his wife (Michelle Williams) was killed in a fire caused by an arsonist who was once a patient at Ashecliff. Investigating further, he discovers clues leading to a deeper conspiracy involving the doctors experimenting on left-wing radicals.

There is no denying Scorsese’s abilities as a master filmmaker. He sets an uneasy mood almost immediately with a style that is a cross between noir and Hitchcock. Scorses heightens the creepy atmosphere by filling the supporting cast with several equally creepy actors. Really, nobody does creepy better than Jackie Earle Haley, Elias Koteas, and Max von Sydow.

Shutter Island essentially lives and dies by the twist ending. You either buy it or don’t. There’s no in between. Personally, I couldn’t. It was like the rug was pulled out from under me. Whatever I had invested in the film feels as if it had been a waste. Every other element of the picture is strong and Scorsese has created an uneasy, claustrophobic mood to the story, but the sharp left turn in the resolution undoes all the hard work.

Rating: **

Gran Torino

Gran Torino - Dir. Clint Eastwood (2008)


”Ever notice how you come across somebody once in a while that you shouldn’t have fucked with? That’s me.”

I railed a bit on Clint Eastwood and his brand of populist filmmaking in my review of Changeling. Gran Torino is a stripped down example of those same techniques. The script isn’t anything wildly innovative, the symbolism is obvious and the themes are presented in heavy-handed fashion. However, what truly elevates the piece is Eastwood himself who steps in for what just might he his final acting role. What Unforgiven did to the Man with No Name archetype; Gran Torino does to Dirty Harry. Eastwood is Walt Kowalski, a Korean War vet and one mean, old bastard. Seriously, he’s the crotchety curmudgeon who sits on his porch drinking beer and staring out at the world with utter contempt while he mutters under his breath. You could imagine Detective Callahan arriving at this same point. Kowalski doesn’t pack a Magnum .44 (”…the most powerful handgun in the world.”). Instead, he’s armed with a Colt .45 and an old M1 rifle. It’s not surprising that rumors swirled about during early development that Gran Torino would be the next installment in the Dirty Harry franchise.

Gran Torino begins with the funeral for Walt’s wife. He’s all alone now with his only friend being his Labrador retriever, Daisy, He can’t stand his own family. His children are self-involved and his grandchildren are spoiled brats. Nor does he have time for a young and earnest Catholic priest who hounds him to come to confession. Walt doesn’t care for his neighbors either. His formerly white neighborhood has been supplanted by Hmong immigrants and Walt has no qualms over throwing around words like, “chink” and “gook.” About the only thing Walt does care for (aside from his dog), is a vintage ’72 Gran Torino bought hot off the assembly line of the Ford factory he once worked at. The Torino stands as more than just the expected phallic symbol of masculinity. It’s a frozen moment in time. It’s not even the best of the classic muscle cars, but that doesn't matter. They just don’t make them like they used to. That goes for the Torino and Walt.

It is that very automobile that intertwines his fate with his next door neighbors. In particular, the introverted Tao (Bee Vang) who is hounded by his older, gangbanger cousin and neither he nor his sister, Sue (Ahney Her) will ”know peace” unless Walt does something about it. As expected, Walt’s stony exterior is chipped away. ”I have more in common with these gooks than my own spoiled, rotten family,” he admits. In turn, young Tao (emasculated by bullies and the domineering women in his family) learns newfound confidence and skills under the reluctant tutorship of Walt.

Gran Torino is a fairly simple film that’s elevated by Eastwood’s sheer presence. It’s a testament to his talent as an actor and filmmaker that he’s able to make racism endearing. And only Eastwood could make you believe a near octogenarian could beat the crap out of punks a fourth of his age. Though the script wasn’t written with him in mind, I cannot imagine anybody else in the role. Walt Kowalski is an extension of the Eastwood persona. The trademark squint and sneer are ever present. He growls like a junkyard dog. The film’s resolution acts as almost a recant of the hard-nosed (some would say fascist) style of vigilantism that made Dirty Harry famous. This is Eastwood’s best work since Unforgiven.

Rating: ****