Steve Jobs (***1/2)

STEVE JOBS
Directed by Danny Boyle

***1/2

It's hard to conjure initial thoughts of Steve Jobs because it's so rare to watch a film in which its plainly obvious just how un-fucked-with the screenplay is. If it wasn't obvious just how much Aaron Sorkin owed to Paddy Chayefsky, then it becomes so after seeing Jobs. No non-directing screenwriter has ever been so fully responsible for the final cut since Chayefsky's groundbreaking Network in 1976. Not that Jobs is the same kind of groundbreaking cinematic achievement that Network is, but both films present elemental theses about their writers that go on to define what they, better or worse, represent. Now, Steve Jobs is actually Sorkin's second vision of Silicon Valley after 2010's The Social Network which was an equally unflattering portrait of a computer tyrant, Mark Zuckerberg. If The Social Network painted Zuckerberg as almost autistically dismissive of humanity, Sorkin now sees Jobs as a sociopathic monster - neither men come off as particularly influential, as they do detrimental. If the history of the world is a collection of tales involving powerful white men bullying there way to the front of the stage, Sorkin feels Steve Jobs should be singled out for his megalomania. Sorkin gets away with this because the characters in his films aren't really people, but ideas. Steve Jobs isn't really about Steve Jobs in the same way The Social Network isn't really about Zuckerberg, because even if they are in fact based on real people, they're actually Freudian constructs of what Sorkin sees as the tragedy of the pursuit of the American ideal. There is always a risk of Sorkin becoming heavy-handed (**cough** The Newsroom), but Steve Jobs is Sorkin at his best, an American moralist with an unmatched gift for dialogue and whose scene construction is above what anyone else can bring to the table.

The Martian (***)

THE MARTIAN
Directed by Ridley Scott

***

A story of space survival should not be as airy and fleeting as The Martian is. 2001: A Space Odyssey set the standard, and Gravity perfected it. Outer space is an unkind, asphyxiating experience; out of the control of your meticulously designed mission, your life is literally up in the air. Andy Weir's novel was fantastic popcorn fiction which nonetheless managed to pile on heavy amounts of information and wax intellectual on the myriad of complexities involved in space exploration. His novel was also funny, thrilling and a surprisingly noble statement on humanity. It's probably a more complimentary story than the human race deserves. But if there was any story that could bring a lightness to the usually tempestuous sub-genre of space peril, this book is it. Drew Goddard's adaptation and Ridley Scott's direction of it really bring to light the adventure that Weir put forth, a long-shot rescue mission for a man deserted on a lifeless planet. The Martian is charming in its way, making a considered effort to avoid self-seriousness - the only thing that it truly takes seriously is the brutality of space - and the result is a pre-Fall delight, a movie that takes on the personality of its star, Matt Damon, while also being a surprisingly effective argument for the concept of cooperation and a collective conscience.

Labyrinth of Lies (***1/2)

LABYRINTH OF LIES
Directed by Giulio Ricciarelli

***1/2

You could spend a lifetime watching films dealing with World War II, the Holocaust and the ripple effects it has had on Europe, America and nearly all advanced nations in the world. You could spend a lifetime watching these films and still not see them all. The war is so readily perfect for films because the lines of good and evil are drawn very specifically - by all accounts, it's perceived as a war in which the good guys won. Despite the amount of films, there's very few that show nuance, that are willing to blur our memories of the heroic allies versus the depraved Nazis. Labyrinth of Lies takes place in the 1960's Frankfurt, decades after the worst was over. Germany is still struggling to regain its place in the world, and the last thing any of the old guard wants is someone to bring up the fact that there is indeed more for them to pay for. That a German film is being made about German comeuppance during the war is astonishing in its own right, but Labyrinth of Lies' cool detachment, its declarative feelings about post-war Germany are its most powerful asset. Directed by Italian filmmaker Giulio Ricciarelli - his feature debut - this film's strong presence makes it one of the fresher films to deal with this subject matter. Lies documents a nation in turmoil, a mass of people trying so hard to convince themselves that everything is fine that they can't see the insidious nature of what's in front of them.

Mississippi Grind (***1/2)

MISSISSIPPI GRIND
Written and Directed by Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck

**1/2

There's an inherent dichotomy in most gambling movies in the vain of Mississippi Grind. They usually are very fatalistic about the consequences of gambling: lives ruined, families and friendships torn apart, broken trusts that are beyond repair. All that said, these films usually put the protagonist in a place to redeem themselves by - you guessed it - betting the farm in one last major play. Even the Paul Newman masterpiece, The Hustler, with its conclusion wrapped in despairing realities, lets the main character win big to settle the score. Don't get me wrong. I don't exactly see this as a flaw within this specific sub-genre, not all the time anyway. Gambling presents a never-ending cycle, with the odds stating simply that misery will not always be the result, it's the perpetual possibility of the win that makes the compulsive gambler so tragic - there's never really a good enough reason to stop. Mississippi Grind, the latest from the terrific indie filmmaking duo Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck, takes a stab at this conceit, understanding this basic concept about gambling and the people that fall into its grasp. Like their previous films, Grind has an infatuation with lost souls, and like their very best film, Half Nelson, we're introduced to an odd couple struggling with the amount of need one has for the other. In a lot of ways, Mississippi Grind is a love story unlike anything we've seen in a gambling movie before.

Black Mass (***)

BLACK MASS
Directed by Scott Cooper

***

The idea of casting Johnny Depp as James "Whitey" Bulger is comical. I've seen Black Mass and I've seen how good Depp is in it, and I still think it's comical. It's brazen stunt casting, but this film shows you why you attempt it in the first place. Casting a formerly brilliant performer in a role that he should have nothing to do with might just create the impossible: it might get him to try. Bulger is a captivating figure; a despicable criminal responsible for multiple murders, amongst many other crimes. In Black Mass, we see him as an overwhelming figure, not so much of an anti-hero but an anti-god. Given an opportunity by the FBI to take down opposing crime organizations in South Boston, Bulger squeezed every ounce of federal help he could get, informing on his enemies and only making himself a stronger and more menacing presence in the process. When it was all said and done, Bulger abandoned all his partners. Most of them went to jail, and told the story that eventually became the book version of Black Mass. The film version is a flash edit. It's a greatest hits collection, but it understands its purpose. Characters like Bulger do not rise amongst the ranks as quickly as he did without a little bit of intelligence and a lot of charm. This is where employing Depp really pays off, as the actor recreates the notorious criminal with frightening alacrity.

Sicario (***)

SICARIO
Directed by Denis Villeneuve

***

Denis Villeneuve is a French-Canadian director, but his last three releases have been American films for American audiences (Enemy was shot in Canada, but it was a film starring Jake Gyllenhaal, so it obviously had a lot of American appeal). All three films are shot with distinct color palettes and sharp imaging, so we know we're dealing with a competent filmmaker. Based on these three films alone, it's obvious that Villeneuve is interested in more nuanced deconstructions of evil. There are no white and black hats, no transparent storytelling structure set up to tell you flatly who are the good guys and who are the bad guys. Not very American. It's exciting to see an outsider make films here and crush our dogmatic rules of pro/antagonism. Enemy was a succinct, terrific doppelganger film about a man's split lives; while Prisoners is another film about the male ego, the struggle of patriarchy in the face of tragedy, the incessant need for men to continue the appearance of strength in response to chaos. Neither film was perfect, but both films did defy expectations, and brought out excellent performances from Gyllenhaal. Villeneuve's latest film, Sicario, is his first American film to focus on a woman. That woman is played by Emily Blunt, an actress with a wide range of talent on screen, both emotional and physical. Blunt is surrounded by men throughout this film, Villeneuve makes it so. Even with a female in the lead, Villeneuve's films are still a man's world.

Sleeping With Other People (**1/2)

SLEEPING WITH OTHER PEOPLE
Written and Directed by Leslye Headland

**1/2

The dynamic of a film like Sleeping With Other People is interesting. It's very dependent on its cast for entertainment, and luckily for the film, it's stars are Alison Brie and Jason Sudeikis, two actors whose comedic charms are worthy of star-level fame, but who never seem to quite get there. But the film's script (penned by the director, Leslye Headland) seems packed with ideas about sex, gender and basic relationship ethics. If these two forces were on the same page, we'd probably have the best romantic comedy of the year, but alas, that's not always the case. Saturday Night Live veteran Sudeikis and Community all-star Brie seem poised for a Apatow-esque send off of the classic When Harry Met Sally... friends-with-benefits plot, but their antics rub against the sentimentality that Headland imbues in the story. We've seen plenty of movies about two beautiful people who swear to stay friends despite an obvious attraction to one another, but Sleeping With Other People is the only film within this subgenre that really wants you to believe that these two friends won't get together. It wants to earn a prize for not Jim-and-Pam'ing us, but we know all along that that's exactly what's going to happen. It's hedging its bets as a "serious" comedy, instead of really shining as a film that delivers on what's best: giving its two stars free reign.

Grandma (***)

GRANDMA
Written and Directed by Paul Weitz

***

I can't think of a better time for Lily Tomlin's performance in Grandma to present itself to us. She's reached the beloved third act of her career, has come out on the other side of the I Heart Huckabees portion of her persona which now seems almost endearing. She has a popular Netflix show, Grace and Frankie, in which she stars with Jane Fonda (and for which she was very recently nominated for a Primetime Emmy), and people are ready to see her in the kind of film role that really showcases all of her most outlandish quirks. Who better than a low stakes filmmaker like Paul Weitz - someone who's always been more 'director-for-hire' than auteur - to craft a screenplay for her? Someone who doesn't need to stretch too far, or get in the way of the greatness of his film's star? Grandma has that indie charm, but it only works when Tomlin is given free reign to perform her career-long schtick in a story that truly knows how to utilize it.

Mistress America (**1/2)

MISTRESS AMERICA
Directed by Noah Baumbach

**1/2

Noah Baumbach's image of New York is as romantic as Woody Allen, but he's willing to admit that there are cracks on the infamous visage. He does not treat New York as a place that can do no wrong, and usually the blame falls at the hands of people. There are terrible people all over the world, but Baumbach seems to have an understanding that New York City has a way of producing the kind of terrible people on all levels and classes. His latest Greta Gerwig collaboration, Mistress America, is basically a spiritual cousin to their previous, Frances Ha. Ha was shot in black and white, alluded often to the French New Wave, and showed Gerwig as a twenty-something whose entire idyllic Park Slope existence goes down the toilet when her roommate moves out. Mistress America ponders what would have happened Ha's protagonist were more manipulative, was able to spin her fable of a lifestyle into at least partial success. In Mistress America, Gerwig's Brooke is the quintessential, millennial New York Girl: in her thirties but still single, getting by on a variety of patched together version of employments, and living in a space marked as commercial. She's literally living out a fantasy of most twenty-first century white kids, and yet she still has room for unhappiness. Of course she does, it's a Noah Baumbach movie.

Ricki and the Flash (**1/2)

RICKI AND THE FLASH
Directed by Jonathan Demme

Diablo Cody's preoccupation with outcasted women trying to fit into Middle American normalcy has given us Jason Reitman's two best films, Juno and Young Adult. Her collaborations with Reitman have been the best thing for the two of them. Neither has really amounted to much without the other. You'd think that Cody getting a chance to work with one of the best living American film directors, Jonathan Demme, would count as an upgrade. Not to mention casting the lead in the film with Meryl Streep, an actress whose reputation is so absolutely adored that she can probably die without a single meaningful performance going forward and still be considered the greatest of all time. This seems like such a great mix, and indeed, I do think the level of the talent does help rise what could have been a pretty unspectacular premise toward watchability. None of the players here are swinging for the fences. Ricki and the Flash is a pretty low-stakes film with a lot of emotional fireworks and crowd-pleasing one-liners. Demme views Cody's sardonic humor through a more sentimental lens and strips away all of Reitman's inherent cynicism. And yet, the film works for me. All of its frills and overeagerness paid off as I watched a rather half-baked film evolve into a pretty effective - albeit hackneyed - story of redemption.

Phoenix (**)

PHOENIX
Directed by Christian Petzold

**

The roots of the Holocaust are felt deeply in Christian Petzold's Phoenix, a quaint tale about a Jewish woman named Nelly (Nina Hoss) who survived Auschwitz, but not without suffering wounds so devastating that she requires facial reconstructive surgery. After the procedure - she asked to look exactly as she one had - she still feels like her identity has been wiped clean; her home has been bombed to bits, her face is like something completely different, and her loving husband Johnny (Ronald Zehrfeld) is nowhere to be found. Searching for Johnny, she finds him bussing tables in a club in the American sector. Despite the warnings of her loyal friend Lene (Nina Kunzendorf) that Johnny betrayed her to the Nazis, Nelly still comes face to face with her husband, who doesn't recognize her. Upon seeing her, Johnny finds her similar enough to his wife to propose a plan: pretend to be his deceased wife in order to secure her financial assets. What follows is a twisted narrative of a man transforming a woman into his wife, a woman he does not realize is already his wife. Hoss' performance as Nelly is profound, haunted and painful. Nelly's progressive knowledge of the moral corruption of the husband she used to love is the rock that this narrative is built on, but outside her performance, Phoenix has an austerity that's hard to puncture. Other than a dynamite closing scene that packs an emotional punch unlike anything in the film previous, Phoenix is a droll affair without much to separate it from the dozens of Holocaust-themed films we see every year. It's obvious that Hoss and director Christian Petzold have a great tandem going - this is their fifth film together, and their fourth consecutive - but this is far from their best collaboration.

The Look of Silence (****)

THE LOOK OF SILENCE
Directed by Joshua Oppenheimer

****

When I saw Joshua Oppenheimer's The Act of Killing in 2012, it completely transformed the concept I had for what contemporary human beings were capable of. That film explored the killing of one million Indonesian 'communists' (pretty much anyone who even appeared to threaten the new military regime) in the span of a year. It focused specifically on the men directly responsible for the slaughter, and it's main star was Anwar Congo, an elegant self-proclaimed gangster who not only personally killed hundreds of people, but did it in horrifically grotesque ways, speaking of it proudly. The ending of that film - with Congo finally, in advanced age, coming to grips with the absolute horror of his actions and literally retching on his own porch - is one of the most powerful images I've seen in any piece of nonfiction filmmaking. The Look of Silence is another film from Oppenheimer, a companion piece and a film that takes less of an objective glance of the killings, and becomes actively confrontational. When we meet Adi, a 44-year-old ophthalmologist, we learn that he was born only a year after the killings, and that his brother Ramli was one of the victims. Ramli's death, a death that took place over several days and included particularly brutal details such as the extraction of intestines and castration, we understand why the intellectual Adi would want to seek an explanation. Adi visits the numerous men who played a part in his brother's death, asking only for a small gesture, an expression of regret or even an apology. The responses he does receive are both fascinating and sobering, a bleak picture of humanity's ability to distort history to comfort their own demons.

The End of the Tour (***1/2)

THE END OF THE TOUR
Directed by James Ponsoldt

***1/2

The concept of David Lipsky's 2010 book Although of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself always felt a little gross to me. The book consists solely of a weekend-long interview between Lipsky and legendary author David Foster Wallace toward the end of his epic book tour after the release of his brilliant, maddening, excessively long novel Infinite Jest. The interview was meant to be part of a cover story for Rolling Stone magazine, Lipsky wanted to capture the zeitgeist that was Wallace at the height of that fame, but the magazine dumped the story and this interview didn't see the light of day until after Wallace's suicide in 2008, over twelve years later. The whole thing felt like an exploitation of a tragedy, like when Riverhead Books decided to publish Kurt Cobain's agonizingly personal journals and distribute them for all the world to see. Lipsky's book has now been transformed into The End of the Tour, the latest film from indie director James Ponsoldt, and has morphed into a surprisingly poignant view of one of our most fascinating writers. The script, written by Pulitzer-prize winning playwright Donald Margulies, finds pockets of humanity and moments of tension within Lipsky's interview, drafting a view of two different kinds of writing celebrity: the moderate success story who wants to be a rock star and the rock star who wants to be anything but.

Trainwreck (**)

TRAINWRECK
Directed by Judd Apatow

**

Since Judd Apatow's 2005 masterpiece The 40-Year-Old Virgin, his feature debut, the comic's films have been spinning closer and closer to the sun. His insistence on indulging his and his friends' egos has left his films bloated and ponderous. His films are still funny, he allows his performers - all of them - to play to their strengths, regardless of whether those strengths mix well into a fully-formed film. Once he made Funny People in 2009, his films began to feel like a lazy puree of solid comedy bits searching for a plot. Trainwreck is a little bit more of the same, but there is one new element here and that's Amy Schumer. The comedienne has evolved over the last decade from a poor man's Sarah Silverman to a truly astute, intelligent comedic performer, supported by a hilarious Comedy Central show Inside Amy Schumer. Schumer is credited with writing the script here, but I'd like to believe that she didn't pen this film as the cameo-riddled, NBA athlete showcase that it eventually became. Apatow's tastes for big names who might not exactly have any talent in front of the camera rears its ugly head in Trainwreck in the worst way. It's almost as if he didn't understand that the star of his film is enough.

Tangerine (****)

TANGERINE
Directed by Sean Baker

****

The spirit of a film like Tangerine is contagious. It's lack of shame and sense of thrill is hard for even the biggest prude to resist. The film is the latest from Sean Baker, always a fan of the more depraved corners of American culture, and it burned through the Sundance Film Festival earlier this year. Though it left the festival without any awards, it definitely won the word-of-mouth battle, and luckily won distribution. The film is a marvelous comedy focusing on those parts of Los Angeles that most people do their best to avoid. It's three main characters are two transgender prostitutes and an Armenian cab driver - not exactly a recipe for commercial success - but Baker finds hilarious pockets in these outrageous lives, exposing the secrets of a lifestyle that a lot of people try to keep secret. Baker famously shot this entire film on an iPhone 5S; that detail has helped a lot in building this film's reputation as a breath of fresh air in the American independent film scene. But whatever "camera" Baker chose to use for this film is pretty irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. There are movies that are shot on film that don't look as good as this film. That he's able to craft his opus with a smartphone and a pair of amateur performers as his stars shows the kind of artist he truly is.