Movie 43 / 1/2* (2013)

It is impossible to write anything disparaging enough about “Movie 43” to disrupt the notoriety underlying it. Here is a film – if you can call it one – that stands against its criticisms with an almost agonizing immunity, like a virus adapting to severe shifts in temperature or climate. And while countless writers and film enthusiasts have slung ambitious piles of mud without qualm for well over six years, with some still calling it the worst major release of the 21st century, the general public continues to give it the sort of life generally reserved for the more obvious failures like “The Room” or “Troll 2,” which endure as cult hits in late-night revivals. Yet to hear a basic description or run-through of the premise does not suggest just how ambitiously the material goes off the rails. It essentially plays like a series of amateur pranks you would find in a YouTube playlist. To observe them in a full-fledged composition, however, is to sense a marvelous lapse in judgment on part of Hollywood agents, who have set their bosses – actors and filmmakers alike – adrift in an artistic whirlpool. So awful is the experience, so utterly perplexing and tone-deaf is the payoff, that you have no choice but to watch on with curious eyes while your jaw falls depressingly to the floor. By the end you can’t entirely be sure whether you have watched a film or participated in a eulogy for the careers of its participants.

Trespassing Bergman (2013)

In the turbulent waves off the coast of Sweden rests the small island of Fårö, a patch of land that has been the source of constant discussions amongst film buffs and connoisseurs of cinema. On its shores is, we soon discover, the house that Ingmar Bergman called home during the last decades of his life, though few knew where it stood; until his death, its whereabouts remained the closely guarded secret of nearby locals, who feared their most treasured (and secretive) icon would have his privacy undermined by opportunists eager to exploit it. But now the secret has emerged, and film directors far and wide have an awakened interest to wander into the private rooms of his compound, no doubt to gain a sense of his profound essence. Was his vehement privacy as fascinating as his immense body of work, or is there a far more profound undercurrent driving these men and women towards the doorstep of their secretive teacher? When the great Alejandro González Iñárritu wanders into a meeting room and is nearly driven to tears by the power of the moment, it serves to anchor the sentiment of his defining thought: “If cinema were a religion, this would be Mecca, or the Vatican.”

The Conjuring / ***1/2 (2013)

Our weary eyes have peered into nearly every dark corner of every rickety old house that has ever been seen in a horror film, but when it comes to the jaunt occurring in James Wan’s “The Conjuring,” there is cause to question our preconceived understanding: it is, in a rare instance, an excursion of undeniable freshness. That is not to say it is a particularly original one, mind you, but the nature of its focus challenges us to consider the possibilities of multi-faceted perspectives. Elusive among many modern ghost stories, this movie thinks outside the box, merges multiple concepts and carries an audience through an arsenal of thrills that are not cheap, swift or overly stylized by visual excess. And that is noteworthy given the limited dexterity of its excessive filmmaker, too; previous at the helm of “Saw” and “Insidious,” Wan has grappled consistently with the beast known as modulation, and frequently succumbs to more sensationalized standards. Does he prefer to second-guess the desires of his audience, or does he not trust his ability to work under the arc of a mild temperament? Here is a film that gets him precisely on the right track, and does so under the guidance of a compelling story, solid characterizations and an underlying menace that genuinely seems like it wants to reach out and cause us discomfort.

Insidious: Chapter 2 / *1/2 (2013)

A shameless cliffhanger is the biggest disservice a film can offer to a prospective sequel, and that’s exactly what happens to the foundation of the whacky “Insidious: Chapter 2.” You remember the situation well, I’m sure: at the conclusion of the prior endeavor, a key character in the urgent rescue of a young boy was (potentially) possessed by a restless malevolent spirit, resulting in the tragic death of a critical asset to the supernatural fight. When its identity was implied via a picture taken on a digital camera, the screen faded to black and left us with the essential focus question: what happened to all those who are now stuck with a menacing monster? The director, James Wan, is used to that gimmick; after helming the first “Saw” installments – which prided themselves on such last-ditch trickery in order to propel interest through a slog of sequels – he has grown accustomed to the notion of saving the biggest reveal for the final moments. That is acceptable in a series that uses the ploy to audience expectation, but it doesn’t work here, and what both he and his writer have done is given us a follow-up that doesn’t play so much as an isolated story as it does an extended climax.

Willow Creek / **1/2 (2013)

There is one unbroken shot in the last hour of “Willow Creek” that is reason enough to applaud the chutzpah of filmmaker who finds inspiration among formula. Directed by Bobcat Goldthwait (yes, that guy!), the scene features two single figures sitting inside of a tent at night while the light from the camera fills the space with an ominous point of focus. They are awake because they hear noises – many of them slight and non-threatening, but so patterned that they begin to suggest the presence of some unseen threat tiptoeing beyond the shadows. What is the source? The lack of an answer has become a well-known cliché in this genre of found footage horror excursions, but that isn’t the point; it all comes down to the fact that any notions of excitement (or skepticism) are replaced by fear of uncertainty, and while most films would lose sight of the human faces in a nonsensical display of camera jumbles and swift chases in the dark, the frame remains on them for gradual reactions, and finds ones that would be effective in almost any context. Seeing them in yet another one of those genre excursions reveals an intention that one hopes could be utilized in something much grander in scope for future endeavors.

Undocumented Executive / *** (2013)

“Undocumented Executive” is about an illegal immigrant from Mexico who wanders north of the border to visit his feisty sister, gets a job interview, is mistaken for an accounting applicant and winds up with a cushy job in one of the most convoluted idiot plots of recent memory. You know of the sort I refer to: the sort of premise in which all mysteries and misunderstandings can be corrected with simple explanations, if not for the fact that one key person in the mix is a complete boob. For a story like this, the instigator usually comes in the form of a supporting distraction – in this case, a secretary named Marlene (Candace Mabry), who spots a well-dressed Latin man in a hallway and somehow never picks up on any of the obvious cues. Does the suit provide her with a generic assumption that contradicts all other reservations? Does she not easily sense his limited English skills? What exactly would give her the idea that he is there to interview for an accounting job, especially after she is unable to find his resume or cover letter in the ensuing encounter? In more serious movies, intelligent characters would discuss her in long, sad monologues.

The Purge / *** (2013)

The scene is set in upper suburban America in the year 2022. Crime and unemployment are virtually nonexistent. The economy is flourishing in unprecedented fashion. And everywhere you turn, ordinary faces are masked by an almost sadistic grin that is portrayed as cheerful contentment. What do those factors say about the United States of the very near future? Under the rule of an entity enigmatically referred to as the “New Founding Fathers,” an alarming new legal trend has emerged: once a year for 12 straight hours, the citizens of the states unite in an event referred to as the “Purge,” and are allowed to partake in an entire night of unrestricted bloodshed on each other. What could possibly warrant this annual legalization of such heinous possibilities? The nation’s prosperity, they say, speaks for itself. And underneath that logic is a chord of very cynical psychology, to boot: if man is indeed destined to be violent and monstrous, then it stands to reason – at least in the eyes of those high up – that giving them one free pass a year to “unleash the beast” will inevitably make them much more civilized people to deal with for the other 364 days of the year.

The Hunger Games: Catching Fire / ***1/2 (2013)

There are few greater pleasures than one’s own reservations being abolished by the reveal of a genuine purpose. “The Hunger Games: Catching Fire” is that rare sequel that not only surpasses its original but also brings with it the undeniable sense that yes, finally, all the maddening chaos and underlying pathos of this deeply political story has finally revealed an important subtext. I admire it not just as an entertainment but as a persuasive statement against suggestive themes, and because it sets these ideas within an intricate world shrouded in unending gloom, those arguments are enriched beyond the knee-jerk assertion that they simply exist to create doubt in the survivability of young heroes. So often in the structure of modern adult yarns do storytellers depend on the cynical reality of some unimaginable near-future to stir the hearts of youthful adventurers into rebellious actions, and often without a plausible backdrop. This is a series that has always been well made and seemingly within an identifiable frame of reference, and yet now seems to be more than just a denial of hopeful outcomes. “Catching Fire” supplies its likeable heroes with a discernible presence that enriches the groundwork, formulates a plausible direction, engages the characters and gets us all genuinely involved without squandering our sense of hope.

Mama / *** (2013)

Two little girls are whisked away nervously by an anxious father in the early scenes of “Mama,” and after his car crashes into an embankment during a snowstorm, they become stranded in the woods where they wander into the murky halls of an abandoned shack nestled between withering trees. No one lives there upon close inspection, but the shadows seem to vibrate with a certain existential tension – as if some kind of ominous energy remains behind, implying silent threats. Unfortunately, the ensuing actions of the rattled father cause whatever is there to manifest in the form of a chilling ghost-like figure, and when his form is consumed and the girls are left behind to fend for themselves, they make a connection with the presence that will inform their growth over the next five years. Because each is no more than a couple years old at the time of their abandonment, age passes and isolation shapes them into feral, speechless creatures that walk around on four limbs – traits that are not easily breakable once the times comes for them to be integrated back into civilization. When their whereabouts are discovered and their uncle comes rushing to their rescue, in fact, there is almost no immediate connection between them: only vague remembrances buried behind primitive survival instincts.

Blood Glacier / *1/2 (2013)

Had “Blood Glacier” been made from within the big studio system, audiences would likely be hailing it as the worst film ever made; but in the hands of an amateur B-movie director who operates from a place of calculated silliness, it at least inspires uproarious howls of delight – especially if you are a viewer that has any kind of background in science. In some twisted way, it all comes down to intention. So many rules about human and animal biology are broken in this zany creature feature that it calls into question the sanity of the writer, Benjamin Hessler. Was he under the influence of illegal substances when he concocted this absurd premise? His audacity becomes our pained amusement, and for 98 jaw-dropping minutes we watch on – sometimes with horror, other times with laughable shock – as a story about hybrid mutants slithers around on screen as if in the final throws of dramatic suffering. This is one of those endeavors that will no doubt endure the test of time on viewing lists of very ambitious bad movies.

12 Years a Slave / **** (2013)

Steve McQueen’s stark, powerful “12 Years a Slave” leaps far beyond the notion of basic film composition and penetrates to the core of the human condition, at a time when the acts of a people left a stain on our civilization from which there could be no return. To see it – and indeed, to experience it – is to be part of one of the most haunting encounters we will ever have with a movie screen. Based on a prevailing memoir of one man’s perseverance during the years of American slavery, the film is the embodiment of historical resonance, and McQueen doesn’t so much direct a picture as he allows his mind to be a vessel for unflinching candor while a camera bears witness. Here is an endeavor so brutal, so honest and stirring, that it inspires a collective pause akin to what “Schindler’s List” did for the subject of the Holocaust.

Frozen / ***1/2 (2013)

At the heart of every good fairy tale is a plethora of wondrous images and thoughtful subtexts. Disney’s “Frozen,” the latest of a long line of motion picture endeavors from the studio to first discover this reality, arrives at the epicenter of that tradition with enthralling results: funny, whimsical and delightful to a fault, it is one of those movies that engages minds of all ages, much in the same way that “Beauty and the Beast” and “Sleeping Beauty” did for their respective generations. And this notion comes, ironically enough, as a bit of a surprise – unexpected in the sense that its confidence is usually a lost virtue in the age of cynicism, and the movie’s values are a clear departure from the more recent standards of computer-generated animation, which usually involve bright colors and mindless adventure. Somehow, these filmmakers resist bowing to those conventions. Based on an enduring little story by Hans Christen Anderson, here is a movie that champions the cause of more wistful and enchanting standards and brings them back to a golden benchmark. And like the recent “Tangled,” it also rediscovers the liveliness of classic fables while supplying it with a modern brashness.

Kill Your Darlings / ** (2013)

Take heart in the knowledge that you likely understand as much about the origins of the Beat Movement as the average Joe walking past you on the street. Though its influence has saturated most of our modern luxuries, the founding figures of a generation of trendy literary provocateurs have all but been obscured in the crowded halls of artistic rebellion. Even their names now seem to exist as lost relics. Jack Kerouac. Allen Ginsberg. William S. Burroughs. These were identities to be reckoned with in the days of cultural order, when society was in the captivity of conformists, and the arts imprisoned by the frills of old traditions. To them, the true poets – and, inevitably, all artists – were the rebellious creatures in the street, disturbing the ranks by finding inspiration through drugs, speaking in hip euphemisms, and exhibiting apathy to rules and political matters in a world that alienated their basic principles. And yet as infrequent as those names are mentioned in the reverb of modern artistic freedom, do not doubt that their strategies linger on; if that were not the case, what would a “Beatnik” be today if not a voice for the creative and outspoken?

Nebraska / **** (2013)

We first see him staggering down the lonely roads of Billings, Montana. His pace suggests aimless meandering but the mind has intentions, firm and unwavering. An envelope in the mail is the catalyst for his journey: in it, a notice from one of those clearing house sweepstakes mailing lists creates a false impression that a million dollars is waiting to be redeemed, but only if he makes the trip out to collect it. Two problems: 1) he doesn’t know any better than to trust the manipulative advertising, because he has dementia; and 2) the pickup site is in Nebraska, and relatives have no desire or patience to take him to his intended destination fully knowing there is disappointment at the end. So with stubborn persistence he sets out on foot each day, determined to collect his winnings even as family continues to undermine all those attempts. Foolish for him, perhaps, but is he really doing it for the money, or just for the ability to keep his mind and body occupied in a time of unending mental haze?

Don Jon / *** (2013)

The key to a movie like this is the context. When images of vulgar objectification flash before us in an early montage showing beautiful women in compromising positions and various stages of undress, they seem tasteless and desperate – all until, that is, their primary observer clarifies their relevance in his relaxed existence. The guy’s name is Jon (referred to as the “Don” by close friends), and his life is structured like an audition for “The Jersey Shore”: there’s a thoroughly clean apartment, an obsession with going to the gym and looking good, an affinity for clubbing, hooking up with beautiful girls and never calling them again… and porn, especially porn. And while most would suppress certain obsessions in front of their friends, here is a guy who is shamelessly proud of this particular facet; it doesn’t so much own him as it intoxicates his mind with elaborate illusions that are impossible to match, even in the hands of a being so sexually charged.

August: Osage County / ***1/2 (2013)

A storm of suffering is about to drench the many lives of the Weston family, and several will respond with a maddening acceptance that is indicative of lifelong cruelty. From the first moment we peer into their lives, a sense of nihilism overwhelms us. Family matriarch Violet (Meryl Streep) is suffering from mouth cancer and doped beyond comprehension on prescription medication, and when her complacent husband Beverly (Sam Shepard) hires an in-care assistant and then quietly disappears with no trace, most of the immediate family is summoned back home in order to, hopefully, assist in the search. What provoked his disappearance? The opening scenes show a disconnected man that has developed silent contempt for his fate, drinking to avoid a cruel wife and occupying space in a house full of sickness and addiction. For him, the decision to flee seems like the final act of impulse in a life devoid of purpose, and for his relatives, the disappearance and subsequent tragedy is, alas, only the latest example of how this blood line envelops itself in an everlasting misery, because it is all any of them have ever really known.

American Hustle / **** (2013)

Movie enthusiasts occasionally need something to remind them of their love of the medium, and those endeavors that emphasize the pure joy of going to the cinema are usually the most striking. David O. Russell’s “American Hustle” is the latest of that elusive standard, a movie as perfect as they come. Somewhere during the manic struggle that occurs between filming and editing a picture, here was a director who caught sight of a powerful sense of inspiration, and tethered it to his work as a means of taking a fairly conventional story and giving it an enthusiastic footing. You can sense the intuitive genius weaving its way through the formula right from the opening scenes; whereas a straightforward depiction would have been dominated by subdued drama and actors caught in monotone execution, this film comes out swinging with an unmatched intensity, and captures performances that seem freed from the shackles of standard. To call the end result an absolute triumph would undercut more apropos labels; it seeks to be one of the best films of the year, and transcends that goal.

Dallas Buyer's Club / **** (2013)

Actors of our generation often minimize their talents by making dubious career choices, and when the right path emerges even fewer of them follow it for any stretch of significance. One could argue that has usually been the case with Matthew McConaughey; once the obscure rising star of minor roles in films like “Dazed and Confused” and “Amistad,” the chiseled and fetching screen personality quickly surrendered to the influence of a Hollywood inundated by cheesy romance comedies and preposterous blockbusters in the years that followed. In rare instances – as with the masterpiece “Frailty” – we caught glimpses of impeccable possibilities; but for every endeavor of merit there were three or four more that contradicted it with absurd intentions. Yet inexplicably, this very trend that kept him gainfully employed in the movies for over two decades seems to have subsided in recent memory, revealing a buried fervency that has emerged to full disclosure with the likes of “Mud,” “The Wolf of Wall Street” and, now, “Dallas Buyer’s Club.” What inspired the wisdom and foresight to move forward, especially now? If age does indeed inform us to be better decision makers, then this is a man whose past has apparently prepared him for what will become a much more striking second act.

Captain Phillips / ***1/2 (2013)

One key moment in the life of Captain Richard Phillips necessitates the need for a movie about his misfortune. It occurs early on, when an American cargo ship just off the coast of Somalia spots two small speeding boats on the horizon, and binoculars reveal a threat impossible to ignore: potential piracy seizing the vessel. Superiors over an intercom dismiss a distress call as “probably nothing serious,” and we guess that their disillusion comes from the infrequency of security breaches with cargo vessels (it was, after all, over twenty years since one was hijacked). If the events of 9/11 taught us anything, however, it’s that our defenses have to be on guard even in moments when the feeling of safety masks the actuality of it. The biggest question that remains at the end this chronicle is not how we could have prevented the ensuing hostage situation, but how anyone sitting at the controls could live with themselves after knowing the mortal danger that befell an entire crew based on their decision to remain complacent in a deciding moment.

Labor Day / ** (2013)

Movies like “Labor Day” come along in frequent intervals, and when they do they hit us like nagging reminders of the brief lapses in intelligence that sometimes afflict even the most well-intentioned filmmakers. Jason Reitman, who wrote and directed the movie, has come to occupy a space of resounding affection with moviegoers in the recent years; after making the audacious “Thank You For Smoking,” the charming “Juno” and the brilliant “Up in the Air,” there is more than just mild enthusiasm in our eyes when the prospect of a new endeavor of his reaches our knowledge. But what in the world inspired him to choose Joyce Maynard’s novel for his latest cinematic outing? Did he anticipate his interpretation would somehow be inspired and meaningful in the face of its melodramatic nature? The characters in his pictures often rise above the formula of their plots because they have experienced enough of life to find the humor in their own existence, but the three primary protagonists in this story are so weathered by the cruelty of the world around them that it leaves them submissive to the action, until eventually they are relinquished to the standard of a plot that has no drive to look past its own manipulative outlook.