This page contains Dave's reviews written from September 16, 2007

through December 2007

“The Diving Bell and the Butterfly”: is based on the autobiography of Jean-Dominque Bauby, also known as “Jean-Do.” Mathieu Amalric plays Jean-Do as an amalgamation of a 42 year-old womanizer and driven professional (he’s the editor of French Elle) who can’t hold onto his marriage to wife Celine (Emmanuelle Seigner), and a man whose brilliance is locked away in his head. It takes a massive stroke to show Jean-Do just what’s important in his life. Is it his mistress (played by Agathe de la Fontaine), who refuses to visit him in the specialized Berck, Pas-de-Calais hospital, or his family, including his three children who miss their father? Then there’s Jean-Do’s father (played wonderfully by Max Von Sydow), who isn’t suppose to outlive him. As a result of the stroke (identified as “locked-in” syndrome), Jean-Do is paralyzed from head to toe, with only the ability to move his left eye. His brain is still fully functional, but he cannot speak. So he uses a one-blink, two-blink system to answer simple yes or no questions, eventually modifying the technique to communicate letters to form words that will fill the book that he promised a publisher before his accident. With the help of his speech therapist, Henriette (Marie-Josee Croze), Jean-Do is able to articulate his vast visions onto paper. “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” is a very ambitious, but structurally unsound film. It’s the realized vision of director Julian Schnabel (“Before Night Falls”) and screenwriter Ronald Harwood (“The Pianist”), who took Jean-Do’s unique story and parlayed it into a sometimes non-sensical orgy of Schnabel bizarre shot ideas. There seem to be dozens of “cool ideas” reportedly not in the original book (I haven’t read it) whose sole purpose appears to be the satisfaction of the director. This approach worked for Jean-Pierre Jeunet in “Amelie” because it was his story, not somebody else’s, and he was able to make it work in the context of his film. But it failed for Jeunet in “A Very Long Engagement” because that was an adaptation. Some would argue that it takes a visionary director like Schnabel to make coherent such a complicated book, but perhaps it just wasn’t filmable after all. What “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” boils down to is a very interesting story that was engulfed by the pretensions of its director. It’s a damn shame because it has a lot going for it, including a remarkable story with likeable characters and fine performances (especially Max Von Sydow and Emmanuelle Seigner). But ultimately, I cannot recommend this film. ** (out of) **** (In French with English subtitles)

“No Country for Old Men”: is not only the best Coen Brothers film since “Fargo,” it’s also one of the best films of this decade. It’s also an absolute spot-on example of film technique, from its sharp editing (helping it build a great level of suspense), to its pitch-perfect acting and the subtleties of its direction. But enough of the superlatives, let’s talk about the film. Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin) is a proud man, working as a welder and living with his young wife, Carla Jean (Kelly Macdonald) in a modest trailer in a small Texas town. In a sort of modern version (albeit 1980) of Jed Clampett, Moss was hunting for some food when he stumbled upon the remnants of a drug deal gone very, very wrong. In addition to several dead bodies and a large quantity of heroin, is a suitcase containing over $2 million in hundred dollar bills - and very importantly, a secretly-planted transponder. Moss, who decides to play finders keepers with the money, isn’t aware of that last minor detail, and it’s that crucial oversight - and more than a dollop of arrogance - that leads him to think he can outwit a very bad man, one Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem), who now has the ability to track the suitcase’s every move. Chigurh is a relentless and deeply private man, who lives by a code and doesn’t appreciate personal questions. And he has a menacing pneumatic air gun and a trail of corpses to prove it. Also along for the hunt is the local sheriff, Ed Tom Bell (Tommy Lee Jones) and a bounty hunter (Woody Harrelson). But they never encounter one another, one of the many beauties of a film that’s filled with smart details and little metaphors. In fact, you rarely see more than two characters together in any scene. “No Country for Old Men” is based upon a novel by Cormac McCarthy (“The Road”) and was faithfully adapted by Joel and Ethan Coen, who, as is their tradition, also directed and edited the movie. Their film was beautifully photographed by long-time collaborator, cinematographer Roger Deakins (of a plethora of gorgeously-shot films) with music very minimally added by Carter Burwell. As I mentioned earlier, the acting was perfect. Josh Brolin, the best thing about the recent “American Gangster,” is quiet cool as a law-abiding man not afraid to mix it up with the “other side.” Javier Bardem is unforgettable as Anton Chigurh, an unemotional killer, playing a role not unlike the man he’s hunting, except he lacks Moss’ moral center. Bardem’s performance reminds me a little of Robert Mitchum’s haunting Harry Powell from “The Night of the Hunter.” His Anton Chigurh is indeed a villain for the ages. Tommy Lee Jones is playing yet another law enforcement officer, but this time he adds a certain air of vulnerability to his part. He’s still smart as a whip, but, as the title of the film eludes, he’s not quite up to the demands of the new world. It may be the best role of Jones’ career. And, as is a staple in all Coen Brothers films, the supporting and bit role players are often funny in an awkward and naïve sort of way. Kelly Macdonald is excellent as Llewelyn’s devoted wife, Carla Jean, whose perfect Texas accent makes you forget about her nearly-incomprehensible real-life Scottish brogue (best on display in “Trainspotting”). Also notable were Garret Dillahunt (“Deadwood”) and Barry Corbin (“Northern Exposure”), as well as several familiar character actors playing the various clerks and attendants who were unfortunate enough to encounter Anton Chigurh. I’m lucky if I’m blown away by one film a year. “The Lives of Others” and “Away From Her” already did it for me in 2007. Add “No Country for Old Men” to the list. And as I will often do in those rare instances, I watched the film a second time, which only confirmed what I’d already concluded upon my initial viewing: that “No Country for Old Men” is a masterpiece. **** (out of) ****

“Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead”: In 1957, a young television director was entrusted to helm an adaptation of the teleplay, “12 Angry Men.” The resulting film now stands as one of the greatest of all-time. Fifty years later in 2007, that director, Sidney Lumet, now 83 years-old, barely skips a beat with “Before the Devil Know You’re Dead.” Lumet’s film (written by first-time screenwriter Kelly Masterson) is a masterfully-told story of a robbery gone horribly, horribly wrong. The lives of brothers Andy (Philip Seymour Hoffman) and Hank Hanson (Ethan Hawke) are both messed up. Andy is embezzling money from his job, and has a nasty heroin habit he manages to keep from everyone, while Hank is a lifelong screw-up who is disconnecting from his ex-wife and their daughter, and is having problems making his support payments. Andy hatches a plan to rob their parent’s (played by Rosemary Harris and Albert Finney) jewelry store, figuring it’s a victimless crime. The part-time clerk is old and half-blind, and insurance would cover the loss. And most important to them, the ill-gotten gains would rescue them from their dire situations. Ah, but plans have a way of going awry, and this one does – big time. This is one of those the less you know, the better reviews, so I’ll spare you any further key details, but what I will reveal is the film’s gimmick, well, it’s uniqueness. Masterson, whose screenplay is utterly brilliant, takes us back and forth through the story, from the “Day of the robbery” to “Andy, three days before the robbery” and so on, showing us the key character’s state of mind before and after the heist, designed to give the viewer the correct perspective. The effect is a little disruptive at first, but increasingly important as the story unfolds. It’s a little Quentin Tarantino-esque, except it was the film’s veteran director, Sidney Lumet, whose great films of the 70s (“Dog Day Afternoon” is an excellent example) were probably a huge inspiration for Tarantino, with Lumet serving notice that he, even at his advanced age, still has it. Lumet was also smart enough to tone down the over-the-top nature of “Devil’s” story, while not losing the manic nature of his character’s emotions or the proper dry tone. Philip Seymour Hoffman is an utter revelation as Andy, the out-of-control of the two brothers, while Ethan Hawke as the weaker of the two, has never been better. Both men deserve award recognition, but it was Hawke who found a new level he’d never before reached. Albert Finney was, well, Albert Finney; another great performance, while Marisa Tomei, as Andy’s wife and Hank’s lover, was mostly pretty background fodder, although she had a few good scenes. The great title of this film comes from an Irish blessing that goes: “May you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you’re dead,” in part explaining how the brothers try their best to cheat the inevitable. “Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead” is mostly slow-going with splashes of sex and violence, but taken as a whole, is an excellent film. *** ½ (out of) ****

“American Gangster”: is a bluntly-told, fact-based story of notorious Harlem heroin dealer Frank Lucas, and the man who eventually took him down, Richie Roberts. Lucas (Denzel Washington) got his “start” in the 1960s as a collector for long-time top New York drug dealer, Bumpy Johnson (Clarence Williams III). After Bumpy’s sudden passing, Lucas took over, with his run continuing until the mid-70s when his vast empire (reportedly in excess of a half-billion dollars) was ended by a drug task force headed by Roberts (Russell Crowe). Roberts was a legend in his New Jersey police department, but for the wrong reasons. He was looked down upon because he had the nerve to turn in nearly one million dollars in unmarked, untraceable drug money. Apparently, the rest of the department was so corrupt they took money just to avoid the appearance of being too soft. Being incorruptible also meant you couldn’t be trusted to look the other way. Fed up with the unwanted peer pressure and saddled with personal problems, Roberts agreed to leave the department in order to head up a federal unit comprised of “good men.” Their first job: figure out who is bringing large quantities of pure heroin to the streets of Harlem. It wasn’t the notorious dealer, Nicky Barnes (Cuba Gooding Jr.), whose product was twice as expensive and not as good as the “Blue Magic” that was finding its way into the blood streams of thousands of junkies. The source, of course, was Frank Lucas, who figured out a way to cut out the middle man by literally bringing the heroin into the U.S. straight from the poppy fields of Southeast Asia by way of military planes carrying caskets of dead soldiers. That sick little approach vaulted Lucas to the top of the drug community, even though he chose to limit his territory to Harlem, allowing Barnes to maintain a presence in New York City’s boroughs. This also kept him off the radar for a while, well, until Roberts finally put two and two together. “American Gangster” was directed by Ridley Scott, with more than a slight Martin Scorsese influence, though he would’ve been wise to tear a page out of the “Goodfellas” playbook and bring more background to his characters, whose stories don’t begin until 1968. He also keeps his big stars apart (a la “Heat,” undoubtedly another big inspiration) until the film’s last fifteen minutes. But my big disagreement with “American Gangster” is its screenplay’s approach to what should’ve been a goldmine story, given that it really happened. Instead, screenwriter Steve Zaillian’s treatment focuses almost solely on Washington and Crowe’s characters, while the secondary players are mostly background noise. We know that Frank Lucas married Miss Puerto Rico, but what was her name again? And that Richie Roberts was an irresponsible father, but I can’t remember his son’s name, let alone his wife’s. And while we get to know Lucas and Roberts, their same characteristic points are made over and over again, with occasional moments of shock value sprinkled in. And the filmmakers can’t decide if the characters are supposed to have a true moral center. Lucas kills without hesitation (reportedly one of the story’s stretches), but loves his family and gives credit to God. Roberts has a huge conscience that won’t allow him to be bought, but has no problem sleeping around with other women while his wife and son suffer. Yet, this is hardly a cautionary tale and,to the film’s credit, with the exception of a scene featuring an outrageous men’s chinchilla matching hat and coat (ironically, shown to make a point), the film almost goes out of its way to ignore the flashiness of its 70s setting. But we did get to hear a few classic songs (the highlight for me being Bobby Womack’s “Across 110th Street”). The film’s performances were very strong, but new ranges were not found, with the exception of Josh Brolin as a very corrupt cop, who did his very best to steal every scene he was in. Ultimately, while I did like this film, I felt a little cheated. “American Gangster” is a good movie that, with a more thoughtful screenplay, could’ve been great. *** (out of) ****

“Gone Baby Gone”: There’s been no shortage of quality films from Boston, with “The Departed” and “Mystic River” as the two best recent examples. In those particular movies, a certain grittiness was on display, depicting Boston as a tough, working-class town with a unique charm. In that vein, actor-writer Ben Affleck’s directorial debut, “Gone Baby Gone” does his adopted hometown proud. His film is the story of a missing little girl, Amanda McCready, whose sudden disappearance unites a community. Three days in, and not satisfied with the police response, the girl’s Aunt Beatrice (Amy Madigan) hires Patrick Kenzie (Casey Affleck), a private detective who specializes in locating missing people, though usually the kind who don’t want to be found. Patrick and his professional and private partner, Angie (Michelle Monaghan), reluctantly take on the case, knowing that valuable time has already been lost and that the job could have damaging effects to their psyches. They’re reluctantly aided by Jack Doyle (Morgan Freeman), who’s the head of the Boston Police’s missing children task force, as well as detectives Remy Bressent (Ed Harris) and Nick Poole (John Ashton), who resent the intrusion, but are desperate enough for an extra pair of eyes. Abiding by his instincts, Patrick takes a hard look at those closest to Amanda, including her shaky mother (played by Amy Ryan) and Uncle Lionel (Titus Welliver), and some people who are found to be unexpectedly connected to the family. Sticking close to Dennis Lehane’s novel, Ben Affleck, co-writer (with Aaron Stockard) and director, pulls few punches, showing Boston’s not-so-soft underbelly to often graphic effect. There’s little beauty in this film, except for perhaps its acting, led by Casey Affleck’s pitch-perfect take as the private dick with a strong moral center; Amy Ryan’s searing performance as Amanda’s severely damaged mother, and of course, Morgan Freeman and Ed Harris, two of our greatest actors, who do not disappoint. Ultimately, the film is held together by some solid direction and an excellent script by Ben Affleck, albeit with a few pacing problems, but with some very effective red herrings, and some memorable cinematography by veteran John Toll. “Gone Baby Gone” is an outstanding film. ***1/2 (out of) ****

“Michael Clayton”: Ah, thrillers. It’s such a wonderful genre, yet so woefully absent from our local multiplex. If only producers would stop making superhero films or movies based on old TV shows and just make a bunch of this genre, maybe from the hundreds of great novels that deserve time on the big screen. Oh well. Until then we’ll have to settle for renting old 70s thrillers or films like “The Verdict.” Or, like me, you can check out “Michael Clayton,” writer Tony Gilmore’s (from the Jason Bourne films) directorial debut, starring George Clooney in the title role. Clayton is a litigation attorney by trade, but now serves as a “janitor,” or “fixer” for a well-known law firm. Better put, he’s the guy who can take an impossible situation and make it possible; a miracle worker, or a sort of Winston Wolfe, to make a “Pulp Fiction” reference. If only he can do the same in his personal life. He’s divorced; has a budding gambling problem, and started a failed bar with borrowed funds from “dubious sources,” who now want their investment back (and then some). But his son still loves him and that seems to keep him going. Well, that and the law firm’s long-running client, U/North, an agricultural concern that happens to make products that unintentionally kill people. It’s Clayton’s job to rein in one of his firm’s lead attorney’s, Arthur Edens (Tom Wilkinson), who suddenly snaps after he finds a smoking gun that will lose the multi-billion dollar class action against U/North. With millions of dollars in fees at stake, Clayton is just one of the people trying to find Edens, whose “crisis of conscience” is leading him to the wrong people: the ones who would actually benefit from the lawsuit. And it’s people like the firm’s partner, Marty Bach (Sydney Pollack) and U/North’s CEO, Karen Crowder (Tilda Swinton), who would like to stop Edens. But what would happen if Clayton finds out why he’s chasing Edens? Compelling stuff; all told in very intelligent fashion by Tony Gilmore, who’s quickly becoming my favorite screenwriter. His script is sharp as a tack and his direction is nearly flawless. The story jumps around a little and gets a wee bit confusing at times, but in the end we realize it’s all for a reason. And I cannot say enough about the casting. I wouldn’t change a thing. George Clooney, Sydney Pollack, Tilda Swinton, Tom Wilkinson seemed born to play their roles. “Michael Clayton” is pretty close to great. ***1/2(out of) ****

“For the Bible Tells Me So”: is a documentary that in part attempts to decipher the meaning of certain passages in the Bible that appear to discriminate against homosexuals. But it’s mostly about five families whose lives have been affected by having a gay child. We meet the Gephardts: Dick and Jane (the former, a well-known senator from Missouri), whose daughter Chrissy came out after realizing that her “traditional” marriage was less than honest. Then there’s the Reitans, who took a while to come to grips that their beloved son Jake was gay. We also meet Gene Robinson, the first openly-gay Episcopalian Bishop, whose rose out of the ashes of some very old-fashioned thinking; the Poteat family, whose close relationship is tested when their daughter comes out, and finally the unfortunate story of the Wallner family, whose non-acceptance drove away their daughter, but led eventually to her mother, Mary Lou, becoming an advocate against homophobia. With the exception of a very pointed segment about Dr. James Dobson and his negative teachings to his followers in Focus on the Family, documentary filmmaker, Daniel Karslake, does a good job of striking a balance by not railing against the church and their scripture-inspired teachings, preferring to let the stories speak for themselves. But the curious (well, maybe not-so) absence of alternative voices does beg for additional answers. And I could’ve done without the animated sequence, even if I generally supported its message. For those already intimidated by the seemingly religious overtone of this film, don’t be. It’s really for those of us who believe that we’re truly created equal. And on that note, “For the Bible Tells Me So” succeeds completely. This is also one of those films, especially if you’re like-minded, that you’ll want to urge everyone to see. *** 1/2(out of) ****

“Sleuth”: Question: when is a remake superior to the original? Answer: just about never. So why do they bother? Especially if the film takes place almost exclusively in a house; features a cast of two, and has maddening camera-work. The film is “Sleuth,” a redo of the 1972 film of the same name. Michael Caine is back, only this time he’s playing the older character, Andrew Wyke, while Jude Law takes on Caine’s old role as Milo Tindle. Wyke, a successful mystery novelist by trade, was probably sensing a good book idea when he allowed the uninvited Tindle to enter his posh English estate. There couldn’t be any other reason. The younger Tindle was exceedingly cocky, better looking, and happened to be Wyke’s wife’s lover. And he can’t even hold down a job, whether it’s as an actor or a hairdresser. To add insult to injury, Tindle is at his house to try to convince him to divorce his wife. The older Wyke’s manhood is beyond challenged. And so begins the 86 minute (down from the original’s 138) cat and mouse game. In a strange way, “Sleuth” reminded me a little of another Jude Law film,“Closer,” in that it also featured a strong cast (here it’s Caine and Law), writer (Harold Pinter) and director (Kenneth Branagh), yet also failed to make it’s audience care about what they’re watching on the screen. The two-man cast thing would probably work for me as a stage play (it’s actual origin), but didn’t as a creepily-filmed movie. I kept waiting for a payoff and when it finally came, it was very underwhelming. My reaction when the lights went on? “Well, that was a waste of time.” Let that be your warning. * 1/2 (out of) ****

“Lars and the Real Girl”: Lars Lindstrom (Ryan Gosling) is damaged personified. His mother died during his birth and he’s never really had a stable relationship with anyone. He works in an office and lives in the makeshift garage at his dead parent’s house. His older brother, Gus (Paul Schneider) and his wife, Karin (Emily Mortimer), live in the main house and would love to have Lars join them, but the shy Lars seems content in his recluse role. But it all changed the day Bianca entered his life. Bianca is a Real Girl; well, she’s a life-size doll, but she’s filling a very important void in Lars’ life. Remarkably, thanks to the urging of Gus and Karin, the residents of their small, sleepy town agree to play along with the idea that Bianca is Lars’ new girlfriend, barely allowing themselves (unlike me) to be creeped-out by the whole matter. That’s the draw of “Lars and the Real Girl.” It’s weird and filled with awkward “I Love Lucy” situations, but still manages to avoid the urge to mine the vast stupid film field. Ryan Gosling, continuing his impressive path as an actor, is excellent as the sweet Lars, while Paul Schneider (from, ironically, “All the Real Girls”), continuing to shine as a character actor, is terrific as Lars’ conflicted, but still-supportive brother. Emily Mortimer and Kelli Garner are charming in their roles as Lars’ sister-in-law and co-worker, respectively. The film was directed by Craig Gillespie (“Mr. Woodcock”) and very well-written by former “Six Feet Under” scribe, Nancy Oliver. Just like most of the characters in “Lars and the Real Girl,” I struggled with the idea of accepting that a grown man could become so attached to glorified mannequin, but like them, I was ultimately won-over. The film is more than a little strange, but if you give it a chance, it will get under your skin. *** (out of) ****

“Into the Wild”: As a child growing up, the typical young boy wished he could fly like Superman; scale the side of buildings like Batman and kick spy butt like James Bond. As an adult, you wish you were that kid again. So when a film like “Into the Wild” comes out, if you’re reasonably idealistic, you can’t help but imagine what it would be like to have the convictions of a Christopher McCandless, the young man who, back in 1990, gave away his money (over $20,000) to charity and then just disappeared without saying goodbye to his family or friends, all in a desire to leave the life most of us take for granted, for a memorable trek to Alaska. Chris was always an impetuous child. His third-grade teacher observed that he “marched to a different drummer.” So trading his world for adventure wasn’t such a dramatic shift in Chris’ personality. I’m not giving anything away when I tell you he didn’t survive his journey, for it’s the journey that’s the story. “Into the Wild” is actor-writer-director Sean Penn’s latest effort from behind the camera. Penn, with a script he adapted from Jon Krakauer’s book, takes the story of Christopher McCandless (played very well by Emile Hirsch) and attempts to try to figure out the very well-liked young man’s motivations for a journey that began just after his graduation from Emory University in Atlanta, Georgia in the late spring in 1990, and lasted until sometime in August, 1992 in Alaska, when Chris’ body was found in an abandoned bus he used as his home-base. On the surface, “Into the Wild” is an inspirational film that will doubtlessly fuel the imagination of many young people who yearn to escape reality much like Chris did some 17 years ago. But it should serve as a cautionary tale. Wisely, Penn’s film doesn’t go out of its way to encourage a new generation of Chris McCandlesses. Instead, he does a terrific job of balancing a tale of a gifted, idealistic young man (he was just 24 when he died) with a taste for adventure and an attitude that leaned heavily toward fearlessness, and the person stung by the demons planted in him by his father (played well in the film by William Hurt). Simply put, Chris had to reconcile something inside him before he could return to civilization. But in addition to all that, “Into the Wild” is a film that embraces all the good in Chris McCandless, showing how the charismatic young man positively influenced a lot of people. It also dots the narration (from Jena Malone, who played Chris’ sister, Carine) with passages from Chris’ favorite novels (by Thoreau, London, Tolstoy, among others), along with the wisdom gleaned from his journal, to create a peaceful, poetic mood that fills the air with optimism when Chris is on-screen and sadness when he isn’t. In addition to the very well-cast Emile Hirsch and the aforementioned William Hurt and Jena Malone, “Into the Wild” is loaded with wonderful supporting performances from Marcia Gay Harden as Chris’ mother, to Hal Holbrook, Vince Vaughn, Brian Dierker, Kirsten Stewart and Catherine Keener as characters whose lives were touched in some way during Chris’ ill-fated journey to Alaska. Sean Penn’s film is also aided by a wonderful soundtrack (featuring Pearl Jam’s Eddie Vedder) and memorable cinematography from Eric Gautier (“The Motorcycle Diaries”). No matter what you might think about the wisdom of Chris McCandless’ journey, “Into the Wild” is a beautiful film that deserves your attention. **** (out of) ****

“In the Valley of Elah”: If you go to the movies as often as I do, you’re probably sick of all the recent Iraq-related film previews. It’s not that I don’t think it’s an important subject that deserves to be explored, but it’s bordering on overkill. We know war is hell and that those who experience it often return as different persons. Writer-director Paul Haggis explores this exact angle in his often-brilliant follow-up to his Oscar-winning film, “Crash.” Tommy Lee Jones is Hank Deerfield, an ex-military cop who leaves his home in suburban Tennessee for New Mexico to search for his son, Mike (Jonathan Tucker), who is AWOL just days after his confirmed return from a tour in Iraq. Hank, who’s more than just a little hard-headed, cannot accept the military’s excuse for why his son is missing. He’s also getting little in the way of assistance from the local police, led by Charlize Theron (in yet another unglamorous role). Without giving away too many important details, Hank takes it upon himself to conduct his own investigation into Mike’s disappearance and discovers a little more than he expected. Tommy Lee Jones, while not finding a new range, is excellent as a man who is slowly torturing himself for being the way he is. He’s supported nicely by Charlize Theron (who doesn’t seem interested in romantic roles), as well as Susan Sarandon as Hank’s frustrated wife, Joan. Paul Haggis, whose heart seems to be in the right place, does a fine job balancing the story with his intended sermon, but while I did appreciate the filmmaker’s message, I felt the very last scene was too over-the-top and not consistent with the particular character. Having said that, there’s still much to like about “In the Valley of Elah.” *** ½ (out of) ****

“Eastern Promises”: Every sin leaves a mark. If you examine the various tattoos on Nikolai’s body, you can read his life’s story. Nikolai (Viggo Mortensen) is a driver for his boss, Semyon (Armin Mueller-Stahl), a shadowy figure in the underworld of the Russian Mafia. Semyon runs a very respectable restaurant in London along with his only son, Kirill (Vincent Cassel), but it’s really just a front for a larger operation involving the exploitation of young girls. One of the girls turns up in a hospital where Anna (Naomi Watts) works as a midwife. The girl, Tatiana, is pregnant and hemorrhaging badly, and won’t survive her daughter’s birth. Anna, who once lost a child of her own, is attracted to the baby, but is duty-bound to find a surviving relative. Armed only with Tatiana’s diary and a card to the “respectable” restaurant, Anna shows up at the doorstep of Semyon’s business, hoping to unlock the mystery of the dead girl. The rest is best left to seeing the movie, which is, for the most part, a worthwhile experience, but not one without ifs and buts. I won’t reveal a major component to this film, but I will say that Viggo Mortensen’s Nikolai should’ve been the primary character, with Naomi Watt’s Anna as a subplot. For those intrigued by my description of the plot to this film, that’s says a lot about the story’s immense (and ultimately half-delivered) promise. But Steven Knight’s (“Amazing Grace” and “Dirty Pretty Things”) screenplay lacks a cohesive direction. Without revealing too much, a minor character in this film pops up a couple times – once just after the beginning and again about an hour later. In my film, he would be the fourth person, with Nikolai as the lead and Anna as a subplot. But to the filmmakers credit, you can’t hide Naomi Watts – you just her recast her role with a good, but lesser actress. Meanwhile, Mortensen’s character is fascinating with the potential to be another Henry Hill, yet we’re left wondering about a series of personality contradictions. Appropriately, the enigmatic “Eastern Promises” was directed by David Cronenberg, who continues to unnecessarily punctuate his films with extended scenes of shock and violence. His latest film is in need of some serious pruning -- not as censorship, but removing some of the “impact” of certain scenes would help viewers to maintain attention to the story. To Cronenberg’s credit, there are many nice touches to this film, especially in the way his actors convey their emotions. Their performances are all strong, so much so that’s it’s hard to single out an actor. Naomi Watts is luminous (as always) as the midwife whose behavior-by-instinct gets her in trouble. Viggo Mortensen, so good in Cronenberg’s last film, “A History of Violence,” is creepily outstanding as Nikolai, the tough guy who uses his tongue as an ashtray. And Armin Mueller-Stahl? I could watch a marathon of him acting out the phone book. Lastly, Vincent Cassel is riveting as the multi-faceted Kirill, who lives in his father’s shadow and has a set of demons he refuses to acknowledge. But I wish someone in charge would’ve recognized the potential of Steven Knight’s story and reworked the script. Ultimately, “Eastern Promises” is a good film that should’ve been great. *** (out of) ****