Trouble with the Curve

Trouble with the Curve – Dir. Robert Lorenz (2012)

Gran Torino was supposed to be Clint Eastwood's last hurrah as an actor. Something must have lured him back for Trouble with the Curve. It certainly wasn't the chance to play a radically different character than he usually portrays. Once again Eastwood slips into the role of the dusty old timer searching for that one last glory. It's a role he's played numerous times dating back to 1982's The Honkytonk Man. Then, there's the aforementioned Gran Torino, Unforgiven, Space Cowboys, Million Dollar Baby, and In the Line of Fire, which was the last time Eastwood starred in a film he didn't direct. You wouldn't be able to tell since Trouble with the Curve looks and feels just like an Eastwood picture. It does feature many of Eastwood's regular collaborators including Editors Gary Roach and Joel Cox, Production Designer James Murakami, Costume Designer Deborah Hooper, and Cinematographer Tom Stern with Eastwood's long-time producer Robert Lorenz making his directorial debut.

Eastwood is Gus Lobel, an aging talent scout for the Atlanta Braves. Eastwood gets one of his least flattering introductions in a while as he has problems peeing in the morning and tripping over his own furniture. They have to let the audience know that Gus is old, dammit. He has a disdain for the "interweb" and refers to yoga as "voodoo." Gus is coming on with a case of glaucoma and he's got a young hotshot (Matthew Lillard) bucking for his job. Gus is out to prove decades of knowledge and intuition will trump a computer any day when he hits the road to look at a high school power hitter named Bo Gentry (Joe Massingill). With his eyesight fading, Gus's friend, Pete (John Goodman), convinces Gus's estranged daughter, Mickey (Amy Adams), named after Mickey Mantle, to accompany him. Mickey doesn't have the warmest feelings for her father since the old man shipped her off to boarding school after her mother died. Along the way, they pick up Johnny "The Flame" Flanagan (Justin Timberlake), an ex-pitcher whose career fizzled after he blew out his shoulder. He's hoping to make it as a scout in order to transition to the broadcast booth.

Trouble with the Curve is the anti-Moneyball with the new school proponents of technology and sabremetrics cast as obnoxious and willfully ignorant while the old-school scouts battle to uphold baseball tradition. As a baseball themed drama, the filmmakers also get the chance to trot out ham-fisted sports analogies about life handing you extra innings and such. The screenplay by newcomer Randy Brown trades in Hallmark homilies and sitcom solutions with a few inert jokes about Dr. Phil and Desperate Housewives. Gus will learn to open up and rely on others while Mickey, a type-A personality, will learn to put down her smartphone. The resolution doesn't rest on a big game, but it does take place in a stadium where every plot point is wrapped up neatly.

Eastwood, Timberlake, and Adams make for an easygoing trio. Adams, in particular, is a joy as the feisty, strong-willed female lead. Those of you who enjoy playing 'Spot the Character Actor' will be kept busy by a supporting cast that includes Robert Patrick, Bob Gunton, George Wyner, Chelcie Ross, and Ed Lauter.

Trouble with the Curve isn't a deep film, but it is the sort of sweet and safe drama that scores with Middle America and the elderly.

Rating: ** (*****)

J. Edgar

J. Edgar - Dir. Clint Eastwood (2011)

"When morals decline and good men do nothing, evil flourishes."

J. Edgar had the potential to be an important and powerful film. You had Clint Eastwood as director, Dustin Lance Black (who won the Academy Award for Milk) as screenwriter, a bankable movie star in Leonardo DiCaprio in the lead, and the intriguing true life story of J. Edgar Hoover. A controversial figure, Hoover served as director of the FBI for nearly fifty years. He had a career that was plagued by paranoia, petty jealousy, and racism and was long rumored to be a closeted homosexual as well as a cross-dresser. But, J. Edgar doesn't come close to the quality of recent Eastwood pictures like Invictus or Gran Torino.

Eastwood and Black get the film off to a poor start with an aged Hoover (DiCaprio) regaling a succession of young FBI agents with his life story in order to compose his memoirs. It's a rather lazy and clumsy device that feeds the narrative to the audience in a piecemeal fashion. Hoover began working with the Bureau of Investigation in its infancy by arresting and deporting anti-government radicals. Eventually promoted to the position of director, Hoover attempts to increase the FBI's power as he spearheads the investigation into the kidnapping of Charles Lindbergh's baby. It was this case that Hoover emphasized the importance of forensics and fingerprint analysis, which was dismissed by law enforcement as a speculative science. During Prohibition, he doggedly pursued infamous gangsters like Alvin Karpis, Pretty Boy Floyd, Machine Gun Kelly, and John Dillinger, who was killed by an operation run by Melvin Purvis as depicted in Michael Mann's Public Enemies. Hoover, angered that Purvis was receiving all the attention, derailed his career.

While Hoover made many enemies, he made fewer friends. One of them was Helen Gandy (Naomi Watts), who became his long-time secretary, and Clyde Tolson (Armie Hammer), who became Hoover's closest confidant. The two would never miss a meal together and frequently went to the horse races in Del Mar together.

Hoover eventually grows more and more out of touch with society. He ignored organized crime and went after supposed communists, liberals, and journalists who criticized him. He tried to sabotage Martin Luther King's acceptance of the Nobel Peace Prize, an action that even Gandy and Tolson disagreed with. Throughout it all, Hoover was under the thumb of a domineering mother (Judi Dench), who coldly told him that she would rather have a dead son than a "daffodil."

Hoover supposedly kept secret files containing dirty secrets on many of the country's political leaders. He had a contentious relationship with many presidents and used those secrets to solidify his power base. In the film, he is depicted as blackmailing Franklin Roosevelt as well as John and Bobby Kennedy (the latter of whom is played by Jeffrey Donovan). One of Hoover's few good acts was to entrust Gandy with the destruction of said files upon his death to prevent them from falling into the hands of Richard Nixon.

J. Edgar commits the cardinal sin of biopics by trying to tell far too much in a small amount of time. It doesn't help that Eastwood's explanation for all of Hoover's faults and accomplishments lie with the fact that he was a momma's boy. The film does touch upon the speculation that Hoover and Tolson were homosexuals. Their relationship remains mostly chaste with Hoover reticent to act due to societal morays and his mother's influence. There are forlorn looks and subtle clasping of hands, but no sex involved. The one time the pair does heat up is during a lover's quarrel that unfolds in the most melodramatic fashion with a lot of screaming and broken furniture. The dialogue and hammy acting are on par with a bad soap opera. The same goes for a brief scene where Hoover clutches his late-mother's dress in a reference to his transvestitism.

The narrative's penchant for traveling back and forth in time is made all the more jarring by the unconvincing make-up work to age the actors. While a lot of effort and man hours went into the effects, it never looks realistic, especially the make-up on Armie Hammer as the elderly Tolson. Leonardo DiCaprio doesn't look like a 70-year old Hoover; he just looks like Leonardo DiCaprio under heavy make-up. Speaking of which, DiCaprio's performance is somewhat lacking. Part of that has to do with his eternally cherubic looks. Much like his role as Howard Hughes in The Aviator, DiCaprio excels at playing the younger versions of his characters, but his youthful face and equally youthful voice work against him.

There is a good movie buried somewhere within the confines of the tedious J. Edgar, just as Leonardo DiCaprio is buried somewhere within the confines of his fake jowls and bloated make-up. J. Edgar is a representation of blatant Oscar grabbing cinema, a rare disappointment from Clint Eastwood.

Rating: * ½ (*****)

Hereafter

Hereafter - Dir. Clint Eastwood (2010)

At the age of 80, Clint Eastwood hasn't shown any signs of slowing down. He may have retired from acting, but his output as director remains prolific. Whenever awards season rolls around, you know a new Eastwood picture will be released. His films have been in varied genres, whether they be crime thrillers (Mystic River), war movies (Flags of Our Fathers, Letters to Iwo Jima), or sports dramas (Million Dollar Baby, Invictus). His next project will be a biopic about J. Edgar Hoover with Leonardo DiCaprio in the lead.

Eastwood ventures slightly out of his comfort zone with Hereafter, a trio of stories centered on death and the afterlife. Eastwood is joined by Peter Morgan, a screenwriter known more for politically charged films like The Last King of Scotland, The Queen, and Frost/Nixon. Morgan was apparently inspired to write the script following the death of a close friend.

Hereafter begins with the Indian Ocean tsunami of 2004. French television personality Marie LeLay (Cecile De France) is vacationing in Thailand with her producer/boyfriend (Thierry Neuvic) when the tidal wave hits. She is swept away and nearly killed by a careening automobile. Marie is barely revived, but not before having ethereal visions of white light and ghostly figures. From then on, she has trouble reconnecting with her normal life. She attempts to take time off by writing a book on former French president Francois Mitterrand. Instead, she winds up researching a new book on the afterlife. Her newfound fascination alienates her from her boyfriend and colleagues.

George Lonegan (Matt Damon) was once a psychic of some renown with the legitimate ability to speak with the dead. Imagine him as the kid from The Sixth Sense all grown up. George has retreated from the spotlight, making a modest living as a forklift operator in San Francisco. His brother, Billy (Jay Mohr), keeps trying to convince George that they can both make a lot more money by exploiting his powers. George disagrees, believing them to be a curse, rather than a gift. We see just how these psychic talents interfere with his life when he is introduced to Melanie (Bryce Dallas Howard) at a cooking class. It's a meet cute straight out of the romantic comedy playbook, but the budding relationship doesn't get the chance for a happy ending.

The third storyline is set in London and follows twin brothers Marcus and Jason (Frankie & George McLaren who alternate roles). Marcus depends on the wiser and more mature Jason, who is twelve minutes older, to take care of him and their heroin-addicted mother. When Jason is killed in a tragic car accident, Marcus is placed in foster care and struggles to go on with his life

Eastwood excels at making these types of prestige pictures. He has an old-fashioned sense of storytelling. He is content to give his characters room to breathe and never resorts to superfluous camera tricks. Hereafter marks the first time Eastwood has used extensive special effects. The opening tsunami sequence is a remarkable achievement in CGI that is shot in a very intimate manner. Eastwood shoots this massive natural disaster at a human level by focusing on Marie as she is battered and thrashed about. Eastwood is more concerned about capturing the harrowing emotions of the event rather than creating widespread destruction, a lesson that Michael Bay and Roland Emmerich could learn.

The rest of the film doesn't quite live up to the promise of the start. Cecile De France is wonderful and I admit to having a crush on her since High Tension (just something about a French girl wielding a chainsaw). However, her storyline remains the weakest of the three. The scenes dealing with her disconnect are mundane and fail to convey the existential turmoil she faces. Damon appears in the strongest storyline and he gives a powerful, yet understated, performance. Unlike films such as Babel and Crash, Hereafter doesn't unite its characters through tenuous strands or contrive to intersect its various plots. The storylines run parallel and only converge in the final act. The resolution remains unsatisfying and the convergence of plot threads feels more like an obligation rather than a germane end to the journey. Eastwood is known for his preference to shoot the script's first draft, choosing not to tweak the writer's words. Perhaps, that's exactly what Hereafter needed.

In the end, Eastwood has created a film about metaphysical subject matter that is grounded in a down-to-earth reality. The performances of the cast are good enough to overcome the meandering plots and the occasional bluntness of Eastwood's direction.

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: ****

Changeling

Changeling - Dir. Clint Eastwood (2008)



Eastwood is a rather populist filmmaker, more so this past decade. He’s directed four of my favorite Westerns, the first three being High Plains Drifter, The Outlaw Josey Wales, and the Shane takeoff, Pale Rider. The fourth is Unforgiven which took a less romanticized approach to the genre. Since then, he’s done the lovey dovey weepy (Bridges of Madison County), the crowd pleasing fluff (Space Cowboys), the serial killer thriller (Blood Work), the gritty crime drama (Mystic River), the inspirational sports film (Million Dollar Baby), and the war film (Flags of Our Fathers, Letters from Iwo Jima). With each project, Eastwood takes a straightforward approach, evoking all the basic emotions of triumph and tragedy you expect from awards season fare. Sometimes this can be more insulting than the worst piece of garbage to infest the multiplex. At least, when you’re pandering to the lowest common denominator, you have no delusions over what you are. When you pander to the Academy voters, you have a self-important air about you and film.

Now, am I insulting Eastwood’s abilities as a filmmaker? Not my intention. He’s absolutely amazing at what he does. But, other than Unforgiven and, to a lesser extent, Letters from Iwo Jima, he hasn’t truly offered anything different than what is normally found during the pre-Oscar hype months. He’s just not taking risks.

Changeling just screams Oscar bait. It’s a period piece, has an epic runtime, renowned actors, and a woman in peril. In anyone else’s hands, the film would have been manipulative tripe. However, in Eastwood’s hands we have a great movie, an old fashioned L.A. crime film in the vein of Chinatown and L.A. Confidential. Changeling is based on the true story of Christine Collins whose case was immaculately researched by screenwriter J. Michael Straczynski (a comic book writer and creator of Babylon 5). Straczynski spent a year researching the material and even went as far as attaching newspaper clippings to the actual script. Both Eastwood and Straczynski are exacting in their craft and together they have created an immaculate production. The costumes and production design are authentic to a tee while Eastwood’s approach is in line with the classic Hollywood style.

The length of the film never bothered me and neither did the multiple false finishes as I was absorbed at every minute. The story is part-mystery and part-serial killer movie while the third act is predominantly a courtroom drama. The latter of which isn’t quite as strong as the previous acts.

Much like her in A Mighty Heart, Angelina Jolie is called upon to give a heart-wrenching performance. She definitely looks the part of a flapper girl with her slight frame, pale skin, and ruby red lips. She cries on cue as the mascara runs down her cheeks. She’s de-glamorized and disheveled after being unjustly committed to an asylum.

While I enjoyed the film, I wasn’t blown away by it. Changeling proudly hits all the right notes at exactly the right moments. It’s impeccably made, well acted with a riveting story behind it. This is the type of movie that critics eat up. But, it's the circumstances surrounding the true life events that are more interesting than the picture based on them.

Rating: ***

High Plains Drifter

High Plains Drifter - Dir. Clint Eastwood (1973)

Clint Eastwood is 31 flavors of badass in this one.

He rides in, kills three people, then rapes a woman. So, of course, the town puts him in charge.

How awesomely awesome is that?