How about this for strange casting? Haywire features Ewan McGregor, Michael Fassbender, Michael Douglas, Antonio Banderas, Channing Tatum and Bill Paxton.

Yet who plays the lead? Mixed martial arts fighter Gina Carano, whose biggest acting credit until now was performing as Crush on the “American Gladiator” series.

If that makes you skeptical, get over it. Carano delivers a strong first starring role and is the perfect actress for this movie.

Read the full article here

First, I love my wife. Not just because she makes a point to show our son this video then discuss it with him afterward, but because of the way she does it. She didn’t make a fuss about it and present it like ‘a big important educational moment.’ Any kid will resist the message as soon as you create that scenario. Instead, she got it cued up and simply said, “Hey buddy, come here for a second.” Then she let Dr. King do the rest. She and I have both learned from teaching in various contexts that when the message is powerful enough, no extra push is needed, and one certainly doesn’t have to insinuate oneself between that speech and anyone who hears it. That speech stands as one of the greatest pieces of oratory ever captured. Just push play then get out of the way.

Second, my son’s reaction demonstrates just how powerful the “I Have a Dream” speech is. He, like his father, is a rather fidgety boy who’d rather be building Legos or doing some other physical activity. The video is in black and white, the lighting and resolution are awful – especially when viewed on Youtube, which is how we watched it this morning. Yet he sat through the entire thing and gave it every bit as much attention as he gave Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone last night. Words are powerful, especially when delivered with passion and righteous intentions.

Third, our son has no inkling that people from other ethnicities or who do not look like him are different on a fundamental level. He simply doesn’t see difference as a factor when he meets other kids. Being white parents raised in the Midwest who are now raising a child in the South, we’re quite proud of that. It isn’t by accident. We don’t expose him to racist things or racist people. We have a strict household rule against name-calling, whether it’s related to race or not. When the occasional, inevitable exposure to something discriminatory does occur, we talk about it to make sure he understands that we believe in acceptance (not just tolerance – acceptance) and that God deals with those who hate.

But we also know that sooner or later, this country we live in is going to try to teach him the wrong way to look at difference. Our struggle to teach him that there is only one race, the human race, is just beginning. And unfortunately, the people who will make it most difficult to teach our child the righteous way to view other people will, ironically enough, come from his own ethnic group. It isn’t that prejudice is exclusive to any one ethnic group, but because of how in-groups and social spheres function, he will hear discriminatory language and racist jokes from people who look just like him. Lord knows, growing up in Ohio I heard every racist joke in the book. It was normal in our rural, almost exclusively white area. My enlightenment began when I moved a few hours away, to a college near Detroit. I was suddenly in the minority, and my whole world view began to shift. Suddenly, the “I Have a Dream” speech was relevant. Suddenly, I heard it. I thank God for that, because I absolutely believe that our souls are at stake when it comes to racism.

Does my 6-year old understand everything in Dr. King’s speech? No, not yet. But my wife and I also know that we have to be pro-active. We must teach our child understanding and love before the haters try to teach him their beliefs. He needs a strong foundation that will keep any seeds of hatred from taking root.

I’m not sure why, but at times I cringe when I see white people thanking Dr. King. It’s probably my liberal over-sensitivity, but sometimes when white people thank Dr. King I get a feeling similar to the one I get when white females call each other “Girl” or white bands cover Bob Marley. Whites have appropriated so much from minority cultures. I don’t want to be part of that particular problem.

So I hope no one will mind if I thank Dr. King. I thank him for being so important to my own salvation, and I thank him for doing so much to make it possible for my own son to grow up in a better America. Because of Dr. King and so many other brave leaders, it is possible – not easy, but possible – for a child to grow up without ever learning to hate those who are different. My wife and I are raising a son on the red foothills of Georgia, and because of the courage and conviction of Dr. King, the table of brotherhood is in sight. My son does not know any racist jokes, but he knows the refrain, “Free at last! free at last! Thank God Almighty we are free at last!” My son does not know the names of racists, but he knows the name Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. And for that I am truly thankful.

January has apparently become thriller month on the movie calendar. The next few weeks will be dominated by high action, often violent, gritty action movies, including “Underworld: Awakening,” “Haywire,” “Red Tails,” “The Grey,” and “Man on a Ledge.”

Even this year’s first Shakespearean film, “Coriolanus” (which is outstanding, by the way), looks more like “The Hurt Locker” than an adaptation of the Bard.

Kicking off this month of kicking butt is “Contraband,” a tense actioner featuring a star-studded cast. It’s also the American debut of Baltasar Kormákur, an Icelandic actor and director whose work has won him international acclaim.

Click here for full review

Click here for full review

“The Fat Boy Chronicles” is a low budget movie making a big impact. Based on a novel of the same title by Lang Buchanan (the pen name of writing partners Diane Lang and Michael Buchanan), director Jason Winn’s movie tells the story of an over-weight high schooler named Jimmy (Christopher Rivera). Already tired of being bullied and feeling awful about himself, Jimmy visits Dr. Jeffords (Ron Lester), who tells him the cold, hard truth: that the longer Jimmy remains obese, the harder it will be to lose the weight and the more health problems he will encounter. And eventually, Jimmy is going to die young.

Jimmy’s visit with the doctor is one of the film’s best scenes. Ron Lester used to be known as the fat guy from “Varsity Blues.” By age 30 he weighed 508 pounds. He had found a Hollywood niche as the lovable fat kid but was headed for an early death. So when Lester as Dr. Jeffords tells Jimmy about the physical and emotional misery that awaits him until he dies at a relatively young age, the words pack a great deal of power.

This is the final straw for Jimmy, who commits to a weight loss program that includes a change in diet, exercise, and some work on his self-esteem. Jimmy finds the bravery to take chances socially. He starts dating a girl named Sable (Kelly Washington). He starts tutoring Robb (Cole Carson), a jock who would normally bully Jimmy if he noticed him at all. Jimmy undergoes psychological and emotional changes as he transforms physically. The movie becomes a coming-of-age story plucked out of the lives of many real teens today.

All the while, he gets wonderful support from his father (Bill Murphey). Their relationship is one of my favorite parts of the movie. Jimmy’s friend Paul (Chris Bert), however, has a dad who puts him through the ringer. Paul is physically and verbally abused and falls into many of the standard traps that kids do when raised in that environment. Just like most real teens, all of these characters have troubles of one kind or another. Does anyone go through adolescence without pain? No one that I know, at least. “The Fat Boy Chronicles” deserves a lot of praise for recognizing that whether you’re fat or skinny, popular or a nobody, growing up is hard for everyone.

This is a vital, timely movie. Unfortunately, Jimmy’s prognosis is something that applies to a lot of American youth. According to the CDC, childhood obesity rates have more than tripled in the past 30 years, and in 2008, more than 1/3 of children and adolescents were overweight or obese. “The Fat Boy Chronicles” takes an accurate, truthful approach to dramatizing the causes and effects of this trend. It’s the food at home and at school, it’s the low self-esteem created by family and peers alike, it’s the lack of awareness of how drastically being overweight effects our health, and there is a definite link between bullying and kids’ feelings about themselves and their lack of motivation to change.

I’m probably making the movie sound preachy, but it isn’t. Nor is it a public service announcement or after school special in disguise. It’s a touching drama that just happens to be built on these themes. It’s a legit movie earning an impressive amount of acclaim. It has been shown at too many film festivals to list. It has been featured on news programs throughout the eastern half of the U.S. And it has been shown at numerous high schools and church youth group events, which is part of a release strategy aimed at taking the movie to the viewers who would relate to it the most.

“The Fat Boy Chronicles” is also launching the careers of its actors and director. Rivera has since appeared in an episode of Law & Order: SVU. Washington has appeared on “Parks and Recreation” and two features. Winn also seems poised to break through after working for many years as a cinematographer on music videos, commercials, and independent features and shorts. It’s always a treat as movie fans to catch talent on the way up, and this is definitely an opportunity to do that.

The Fat Boy Chronicles releases on DVD on January 3rd.

Ralph Fiennes’ directorial debut transplants Shakespeare’s Coriolanus into a fictional but familiar setting. Fiennes plays the title character, a great soldier who loves Rome, the city which he has defended fiercely many times. The combat scenes are played in contemporary settings reminiscent of The Hurt Locker or the evening news: urban streets, concrete-colored camouflage, IEDs, and automatic weapons.

The people of Rome are struggling through a terrible economy now, though, a period of relative peace. They are hungry and demanding that their leaders do something about the city’s dire situation. Coriolanus despises the people for not improving their own situation. He blames the victims of the city’s mismanagement rather than acknowledging that the social and political system favors the already wealthy and powerful. (Gee, doesn’t that sound familiar!)

Motivated somewhat by patriotism but mostly by a will to power, Coriolanus runs for public office. He is out-maneuvered by more effective politicians, though, and his missteps incite a bloody riot. His political enemies get him banished from the city.

At that point, Coriolanus forms an alliance with Tullus Aufidius (Gerard Butler), the leader of an enemy state. Coriolanus vows revenge against Rome, ignoring the pleas of his closest advisor (Brian Cox), his mother (Vanessa Redgrave), and his wife (Jessica Chastain). This being a tragedy, it’s no revelation to say that Coriolanus has put himself in a no-win situation.

The big obstacle for Coriolanus, both artistically and commercially, is the labyrinthian language of the play. This is one of the most difficult of Shakespeare’s works. If you can parse it out, you’ll find the writing insightful, thick with metaphor, and powerful. It contains numerous proclamations of earth-shaking powerful. The difficulty is reaching that level of understanding. It can be an opaque play for even experienced readers of Shakespeare.

Coriolanus is a rich text, however. The film is about a born warrior’s inability to mold himself into a tactful politician. It’s about the veiled disdain for the working class harbored by many (most?) politicians. It’s about mob mentality and the exploitation of the people. It’s about pride, honor, and (dis)loyalty. It’s about mothers and sons, men and men.

If not for the iambic pentameter, one could easily believe Coriolanus was also written in response to our current Recession-era political and social movements. It’s about 99ers, 1-percenters, 53-percenters, and all the other recent manifestations of the divide between the haves and have-nots.

Shakespeare on film is always a tough sell, so filmmakers tend to stick with the comedies or well-known tragedies. Fiennes is going way out on a limb with this particular tragedy. Coriolanus offers timeless, broad meaning and has been compared to King Lear and Hamlet. (T.S. Eliot loved the play.) But the title character is also regarded as one of Shakespeare’s least sympathetic protagonists. Let’s put it this way: Bertolt Brecht began, but never finished, an adaptation of Coriolanus which he intended to use to exploit his verfremdungseffekt, or alienation effect. He apparently chose the play because he felt Shakespeare’s own version already alienated audiences.

The production was clearly a passion project rather than a commercial venture. Fiennes produces, directs, and stars. He shows a degree of control and command over his medium not often found in first films. Amidst his directing duties, he gives a charged, inspired performance. His whole being, body and soul, is on display here.

His is only one among several strong performances, though. This is easily Butler’s finest hour. He has always possessed a formidable presence but has been trapped in lightweight, mostly awful movies. Chastain continues her breakout year, as impressive a breakout year as I can remember. Cox is his usual, scene-stealing self.

Redgrave shines as brightly as anyone, in a role that functions similarly to that of Lady Macbeth. Her Volumnia is just as militant as Coriolanus and drives him into battle after battle. She brags about his battle wounds and kills like ordinary mothers boast about grade cards. She then urges Coriolanus to run for public office. Their relationship is rather Oedipal, too. Volumnia holds more sway over Coriolanus than his wife. In one scene, she tenderly bandages his wounds and implicitly substitutes for Virgilia.

Coriolanus is, in a word, astounding. Whether it will play widely or make any cultural ripples remains to be seen. But this is an impressive achievement for everyone involved, especially Fiennes.

My Week With Marilyn

Like everyone else, Clark was smitten by Monroe the legend, but unlike all but a few, Clark also got to know Marilyn the person. My Week With Marilyn is about Clark falling in love with both sides of Marilyn Monroe, about Monroe struggling to endure an alienating degree of fame, about Monroe’s doomed marriage to Arthur Miller, and about Olivier’s and Monroe’s strained working relationship during filming of The Prince and the Showgirl.

The story, though, is really the least interesting element of the film. Much more fun and fascinating are the profiles of Monroe, Olivier, and Olivier’s wife at the time, Vivien Leigh. Michelle Williams, Kenneth Branagh, and Julia Ormond, respectively, capture the essence of each entertainment legend brilliantly.

Ormond plays Leigh realistically and sympathetically. Her Leigh is an aging actress feeling neglected by a husband who is entranced by his younger co-star (do you suppose Monroe caused jealousy each time she took a role?). It’s important to note that Ormond gives one of her best performances, because unfortunately she is going to be over-shadowed by Branagh and Williams.

It was inevitable that Branagh would play his idol, Olivier, at some point, and he doesn’t squander the opportunity. Throughout the filming of the film-within-the-film, Oliver is torn between his bewildering attraction toward Monroe and his completely understandable frustration at having to deal with her endless insecurities, idiosyncracies, and elusiveness. Branagh gets to deliver the funniest lines of the movie and quote Shakespeare multiple times. He is perfect for, and perfect in, the role.

But this is Williams’ movie. She inhabits the character fearlessly – because let’s face it, if you attempt to play Hollywood’s brightest legend and fail, the backlash could be unendurable. Williams doesn’t attempt to be a dead ringer for Monroe, but there are certain trademark mannerisms and vocal inflections that simply have to be done. Williams avoids a mere impression (like what Jamie Foxx did in Ray); her approach to playing Marilyn is closer to what Joaquin Pheonix did in Walk the Line. She captures the essence of Marilyn Monroe yet also humanizes her.

Marilyn Monroe devoured the camera, even in the smallest of roles. She walks onscreen, and bam! Whether you’re male or female, you just can’t take your eyes off her. Many actresses – including some very good ones – have played Monroe in the past, but I have never seen anyone replicate that effect as powerfully as Williams. I have to admit to being mesmerized by Williams just as I am each time I watch the real Marilyn. Then, Williams draws us into her character’s melodrama to the point that we feel just like Colin (Eddie Redmayne): willing to sacrifice whatever part of ourselves in order to rescue this girl, even though there is a distinct possibility that her “little girl lost” thing might be mostly fabricated, a way for Marilyn to use the men around her in order to manipulate the dynamics of the film shoot. She plays innocent and frail, but she might not be that at all.

Judi Dench, Emma Watson, Toby Jones, and Dominic Cooper all give excellent support. Zoë Wanamaker is also particularly good as Monroe’s method acting coach, Paula Strasberg.

I walked out of the theatre absolutely certain that Michelle Williams would win the Best Actress Oscar for My Week With Marilyn. The only reason I am no longer as certain is that the race is so competitive. Convincing cases could be made for Glenn Close in Albert Nobbs, Elizabeth Olsen in Martha Marcy May Marlene, and Kirsten Dunst in Melancholia. I have yet to see Meryl Streep in The Iron Lady, Tilda Swinton in We Need to Talk About Kevin, or Rooney Mara in The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, but they will all be in the running, too.

Regardless whether she adds any statues to her mantle over the next few months, Williams has genuinely achieved something here. She has steadily graduated from that show she was once on to becoming one of our best actresses, and this is a bona fide heavyweight turn. She is sexy, frail, capricious, terrified, a woman, a girl, and a towering presence among towering presences (it says something when you outshine Branagh and Dench in numerous scenes). Her performance elevates My Week With Marilyn to one of the year’s best.

Shame

Fassbender plays Brandon, who from a distance seems like a rather typical white collar New Yorker. We learn early on that Brandon can be quite seductive when he wants to be, but he also uses prostitutes. And turns on porn as soon as he returns to his apartment. And masturbates in the bathroom at work. Like all functional addicts, Brandon maintains normal appearances but has created a secret world in which he can indulge his compulsions.

This might sound exploitative, and it easily could have become an exploitative movie – but as soon as the sexual content begins to appear sexy or appealing in any way, McQueen reminds us that this is not healthy desire playing out before us. For Brandon, sex is a controlling, destructive impulse borne of deep psychological trauma. Here’s an example.

During one scene, Brandon is riding the subway. His eyes meet a beautiful woman who returns his gaze. Their eyes dance over each other, and clearly the signals are sent. She suddenly stands and grasps a pole to steady herself, though, revealing a wedding ring. Her face also changes abruptly; she enjoyed the flirting but doesn’t want to be unfaithful. She wants the episode to go no further. Brandon, however, is now on the hunt. The train stops, the doors open, and the woman exits quickly. Brandon pursues her through the crowd, now seeming more like a predator than a potential lover. The crowd overtakes him, and he loses sight of her. He is practically in a panic at this point – all over a brief moment of flirtatious looking. This is not normal behavior.

Brandon’s carefully constructed, enabling little world is upset when his sister, Sissy (Carey Mulligan), moves into his apartment unexpectedly. He suddenly loses the privacy that is crucial to maintaining his lifestyle. Sissy also has unhealthy sexual habits. She is extremely needy and insecure, and she tends to give it away too freely. Sissy acts as a kind of judgmental mirror for Brandon. Not that she judges Brandon – she doesn’t – but her mere presence makes it impossible for Brandon to deny his own perversity.

By the end of the film, we understand that Sissy’s and Brandon’s self-destructive sexual choices grow out of the same mysterious yet obviously painful past. The question is whether their being together will destroy both of them or help them heal.

I missed director Steve McQueen’s 2008 debut film, Hunger, but I have heard high praise for his work ever since. After seeing Shame, I am sold. McQueen combines technical mastery with keen artistic instincts and a sense for visual storytelling that is as impressive as anyone working these days.

Shame gives the impression of a subdued, subtle movie, yet before you know it, the film has engaged in some major stylistic pyrotechnics. A handful of shots last for several minutes and obviously required elaborate planning and technical mastery. One tracking shot moved so swiftly yet smoothly that it left me wondering how they pulled it off. New York City looks amazing at all times, even though McQueen avoided the usual tourist backdrops.

And then there is the acting. Fassbender shows more range than any actor this year. His performance is genuinely stunning – controlled, nuanced, repulsive and heartbreaking by turns. Mulligan is equally strong. In one scene, she even reinvents the song “New York, New York.” Remaking one of the most iconic songs in American musical history is no small thing. Together, Fassbender and Mulligan are utterly believable as a brother and sister with a lifetime of baggage. I’m not sure I have ever seen a brother-sister relationship written or acted so convincingly.

What I love most about McQueen is that he could go all Tarantino and let style overtake story, to let his own directorial presence overwhelm the actors’ presence. But he avoids that pitfall. Nothing about the filmmaking is unmotivated, and even though McQueen puts in such great work here, Shame feels like an actors’ movie, because at the most crucial dramatic moments, McQueen chooses long takes that let the actors do what they do best.

This movie wasn’t “slapped with an NC-17 rating,” as it is common to say. There is no other way to tell this story honestly. This isn’t Showgirls or even Crash, both of which push the envelope to titillate and indulge (even though I like the latter). Shame is a legitimate work of art that just happens to require sexually graphic imagery. It’s one of the best films of the year, and for those open to exploring such difficult content, the payoff is well worth it.

The fact is, though, that Olsen doesn’t have to do much acting acrobatics in this rather frustratingly subdued film. Writer/Director Sean Durkin is one of many indie filmmakers who seem afraid-to-a-fault when it comes to story. Fearing to make the film too easy or fearing to condescend to his audience, Durkin doesn’t give us a wealth of information – particularly when it comes to Olsen’s character.

Olsen plays Martha, who comes from a somewhat well-to-do but emotionally distant family. Martha seems to be the most detached of all. Somehow, she ends up joining a cult; the film never calls it that and we don’t know exactly what the group’s raison-d’être is, but that’s what they are. Patrick, played by John Hawkes in another brilliantly subtle and menacing performance, leads this little commune that consists mostly of women. Part of each girl’s initiation is a special night with Patrick.

The film opens with a brief introduction into the functioning of the group then shows us Martha escaping. She calls her materialistic yet caring older sister Lucy (Sarah Paulson), who picks her up and takes her to the vacation home where she and her husband Ted (Hugh Dancy) are staying. Martha does not tell Lucy what she has been through.

Instead, Martha relies on the kindness of these relatives who might as well be strangers, so distant they are from each other, and the film makes us alone privy to Martha’s past. We alternate between flashbacks from Martha’s time with Patrick and episodes showing Martha’s growing volatility causing problems for Lucy and Ted. The structure is brilliant for a while. There are times when we aren’t sure whether we are in the present or past, which of course mirrors Martha’s state of mind. As she hints during one scene, she is unsure what in her recent past is memory of actual events or things imagined. Durkin captures that quite well.

The film is chilling and insightful – up to a point. Durkin successfully expresses the effects of cult indoctrination, without ever announcing that’s what he is trying to do. Martha’s world inches its way into our own. But in his drive to avoid making a big, obvious statement, he ends up making none at all. It’s a compelling personal story, yet the ending is so ambiguous, so abrupt that it caused a little backlash in me. I enjoyed it thoroughly up until the last 10 minutes or so, then had that familiar ‘That’s it?’ reaction as the credits began to role.

Particularly maddening is this: at a certain point, Martha’s past comes back to haunt her very directly, and Lucy and Ted are clearly in danger. Yet still Martha does not give them a clue as to what has happened. She does not warn them even when physical threat is an arm’s length away. My sympathy for her plummeted at that moment, because the emotional shell she maintains ceases to play as trauma and instead becomes selfish.

As for Olsen, she eats the camera. She projects a commanding presence even when the character is at her most vulnerable. She is a woman on a razor’s edge who could break down at any moment, yet she is also quite sexy without seeming to try. That last quality is downright unsettling in this context, and Durkin deserves praise for capitalizing on it. Martha is a scarred woman. We want to protect her. Yet Durkin uses a few moments with Ted to show the sex appeal she has on men even in this state. Her Lolita-esque, naïve but powerful sexuality becomes dangerous. That’s an impressive degree of complexity to achieve for both a young director and young actor. Olsen’s performance is courageous and nuanced. I just wish Durkin would have been brave enough to offer a real ending.

I have been a Muppets fan since I was a kid, so I expected to enjoy it. But I had no idea it would be good enough to compete for my best-of-the-year list.

Read the full review here.