Field of Nightmares

Take Shelter

***1/2 out of ****

Directed by: Jeff Nichols

Starring: Michael Shannon, Jessica Chastain, Shea Whigham and Tova Stewart

Running time: 120 minutes

American character actor Michael Shannon always seems to have a look of petrified worry on his face. That could just be the way he looks, or that the kinds of dangerous, unhinged characters he’s played throughout his career have become so memorable.

You’ve likely seen this look if you saw Revolutionary Road, which earned him an Oscar nomination in 2008, or HBO’s Boardwalk Empire, where he has a recurring role as the special agent going up against Steve Buscemi’s sleazy politician.

But Shannon takes leading man duties in the tense, superbly acted thriller Take Shelter, where he blends in his uneasy stature and demeanor with a hardworking everyman type to masterful effect.

Here, he plays Curtis, a construction worker, husband and father in the American Midwest. We first meet the character as he watches a tornado suck up the fields in the distance, as foreboding clouds approach and orange rain pelts his home. This is just a dream, but the delusions of impending destruction keep rattling at his psyche.

At work, he is distracted with visions that only he can see, like flocks of birds flying in disorient, as well as sounds of thunder on a balmy day. Disturbing thoughts return at night, and Curtis’s howling in bed begins frightening his wife, Samantha (Jessica Chastain).

Do the hallucinations signify a psychological disorder, like the schizophrenia that Curtis’s mother developed when she was in her thirties, or are they a forecast of a stormy apocalypse ahead? Curtis weighs both options, although he’d rather acknowledge the latter.

Without informing Samantha – who he has been saving up with to pay health insurance for their deaf daughter, Hannah (Tova Stewart) – Curtis starts putting together a tornado shelter in the backyard.

All of the characters feel normalcy except for our protagonist. Curtis believes that these visions aren’t just dreams, since in some instances, they leave him physically scarred. He is the only one who can feel the wrath of something dangerous hurdling toward his community.

Writer/director Jeff Nichols’ film – only his second, and an arresting one at that – grants us Curtis’s point of view. As a pitter-patter piano triplet underscores the tension, the audience's feelings of normalcy and comfort also start to disintegrate.

Chastain sums up a landmark year in 2011 in another stoic performance as a graceful mother. As she unravels, trying to figure out her husband’s alusive behaviour, she is every bit as riveting as Shannon, who delivers a career-best performance. His nuanced American everyman becomes increasingly fierce as the premonitions become more pronounced. The tension builds up to two mesmerizing displays of unsettling ferocity by the protagonist, one delivered to the community and the other to his family.

Take a look back at the past few years, and realize that a lot of the disasters around us could have been avoided. I presume you also remember the tale about the boy who cried wolf. An anxiety of impending terror underlines every scene in Take Shelter, making it not only one of the best psychological dramas in recent memory, but also one of the most relevant.

The Lovers, The Dreamers... And Me

The Muppets

**1/2 out of ****

Directed by: James Bobin

Starring: Jason Segel, Amy Adams, Chris Cooper, Kermit the Frog, Miss Piggy and Walter

Running time: 102 minutes

Although I did not grow up watching The Muppet Show – I did manage to catch their facsimiles on TV commercials and the odd Sesame Street episode, though – Jim Henson’s endearing creations still loom on the periphery of popular culture for good reason.

Whether they be warmhearted (Kermit the Frog), goofy (Fozzie Bear) or just plain raucous (Animal), they are instantly recognizable for children and children-at-heart around the world. (I guess as a film critic, I particularly like Statler and Waldorf, the old grumpsters in the balcony.)

One of those children-at-heart is comedy actor Jason Segel, whose infatuation with the characters led him and director Nicholas Stoller (Forgetting Sarah Marshall) to Disney boardrooms, where they pitched an idea to develop an all-new Muppet movie.

Segel fished his wish: using a deft mix of nods to Muppet yesteryear and hip, modern meta-humour, him and Stoller crafted a tongue-in-cheek if wildly uneven tribute to those wonderful marionette puppets.

The film’s prologue sets up the story of Gary (Segel) and Walter (Peter Linz), two brothers growing up in Smalltown, USA who are a big fan of the Muppets. Smalltown is a place where it is customary to randomly break out into a rigorous song-and-dance routine.

The problem is that Gary is a man and Walter is a Muppet. Alongside Gary’s long-time girlfriend, chaste schoolteacher Mary (the adorable Amy Adams), the brothers head out to Los Angeles.

But when they head to a Muppet Studios tour, the trio discovers that the place is in decrepit ruins. Walter sneaks into Kermit’s office and overhears a maniacal Texas oil magnate – appropriately named Tex Richman and played by Chris Cooper – unveil his plans to transform the run-down studios into a spot for oil drilling. That is, unless the Muppets can summon $10 million within the next week to take back their old stomping grounds.

And how can this money come together? Well, bring back the Muppets for a long-awaited reunion show, of course!

But before we play the music and light the lights – and you undoubtedly started humming the iconic theme song there – we have to meet these Muppets. The trouble with this newest reincarnation of the popular brand is that we don’t really get to know many of these furry, freaky or funny creations all too well over a span of 102 minutes.

The Muppets is charming but overstuffed, so eager to please with a plethora of cheeky musical numbers, high-wattage celebrity cameos and variants of meta-humour that any attention the film gives toward developing character and moving the story forward seem like afterthoughts in comparison.

The film instead garners much of its gleeful laughter from winking at the audience and far less from the physical action and verbal candor expected from the title characters themselves.

With the exception of ringleader Kermit and hyperactive dummer Animal – who is taking anger management classes and has resolved to say no to drums – the rest of the Muppets get the short end of the string, story-wise. While Fozzie Bear is a D-list lounge singer in Reno and Miss Piggy works in Paris as editor of a fashion magazine, many fan favourites are lucky to get a line or two.

Meanwhile, Jason Segel and Amy Adams, two very likable actors, play very likable if very flat human companions. Their scant romantic storyline is simplistic and mishandled, and further detracts ample screen time from the title characters.

But, as most Disney concoctions go, the film's heart is in the right place. New character Walter, struggling with a Muppet identity in a mostly human world, is the film’s requisite pulse. His sentimental (rainbow) connection to the Muppet characters mirrors Segel’s (and much of the target audience’s) excited fanfare, and so he works brilliantly as the film’s emotional centre.

Several moments within The Muppets are delightful and heartwarming, while others, such as several stilted, awkwardly paced musical summers are lacking (although the obligatory "Rainbow Connection" number is timeless). These scenes should be watched with Statler and Waldorf heckling their insidious commentaries at the screen.

Regardless, the pleasure of seeing these characters back on the big screen is enough to earn the film a recommendation, even if the originality and charm that set these terrific creations apart in past ventures is curiously restrained. It’s a heartfelt and delightful nostalgia trip, albeit a bumpy one too.

The Amazing Technicolor Dream

Hugo

**** out of ****

Directed by: Martin Scorsese

Starring: Asa Butterfield, Chloe Grace Moretz, Ben Kingsley, Sacha Baron Cohen and Helen McCrory

Running time: 127 minutes

Most directors who pursue family friendly projects usually won’t start this endeavour when they are 69. Then again, most directors aren’t like Martin Scorsese.

One of America’s grittiest storytellers, Scorsese leaves the mean streets behind for the Parisian limelight in Hugo, a visually wondrous and deeply sentimental adventure that ranks as one of his richest and most accomplished works.

Adapted from Brian Selznick’s whimsical bestseller The Invention of Hugo Cabret, the film feels timeless from the first frame as a tracking shot sweeps through a crowded train station in the heart of Paris. Overlooking this station is an orphaned boy, Hugo Cabret (the terrific Asa Butterfield).

Responsible for ensuring that the clocks are running like, well, clockwork, Hugo has adorned the attic of the train station as his home, complete with a stunning view of Paris and enough room to store his inventions. The Pièce de résistance in his collection is an automaton, Hugo’s only connection to his late father (played in flashback by Jude Law), who found the machine abandoned in a museum but could never find the heart-shaped key needed to unlock it.

When he isn’t spying on a flurry of colourful personalities around the station or fleeing from the snidely inspector, Gustav (Sacha Baron Cohen, excellent comic relief), the orphan is sneaking handfuls of mechanical parts from Georges (Ben Kingsley), a toy store owner, to make sure the automaton is in mint condition.

But when Georges snatches Hugo’s notebook, the boy tries to get it back with the help of the toy store owner’s granddaughter, a curious bookworm named Isabelle (Chloe Grace Moretz). Together, the two discover the illuminating truth about Papa Georges, who used to be a major figure in the world of cinema.

From there, the film develops into an ode to early French cinema. Even if you can’t distinguish the Lumière Brothers from the Jonas Brothers, it’s hard not to be captivated by the engaging lessons in film history our professor Scorsese ratchets up. This portion is more than a mere regurgitation of Film 101 semantics, but helps bring colour and detail to Papa Georges' subplot, a major factor in the film's latter half.

Throughout his 45-year career, Scorsese's films have been consistently reliable with two things: having a rich atmosphere and strong, nuanced performances. Both come in full supply here.

An accelerated chase sequence at the film’s start flurries through a selection of boutiques and shops at the train station, from a bookstore where the novels are stacked up in small moutains to an airy café that comes equipped with a tiny jazz band and French pastries.

The sequence also covers the cramped corridors packed with billowing smoke and clock-related machinery that lead up to Hugo’s living space. Beyond the mystery aspects and the homage to early cinema, Hugo is also a triumph of art direction. The detail packed into each set is dazzlingly exorbitant, richly realized by production designer Dante Ferretti (who won an Oscar for Scorsese’s The Aviator in 2005).

Beyond the beautiful visuals, though, there is also real merit behind the performances. Asa Butterfield is a remarkably compelling leading man, with piercing blue eyes and a burgeoning curiosity that hooks into the compelling mystery elements at Hugo’s centre. He is precocious yet involuntarily vulnerable and exhibits an impressive range, as does his co-star, the impeccably reliable young actress Chloe Grace Moretz.

Beyond Howard Shore’s dreamlike score – which characteristically shifts from wistful to tender notes depending on the scene – the film also explores the rich connections characters make through art, whether they be on the page or on celluloid. That Scorsese is a known film enthusiast and preservationist is no secret, but how he depicts that passion for cinema is sublime, a word I save for special instances. Hugo marks one of those occasions: it is a movie to love that is all about loving movies.

And why save a swooning piece of nostalgic cinematic adoration for his first family entertainment? Well, as all great storytellers know, everything is infinitely more romantic when it is told through the eyes of the child. Whether the child in question is our titular character or the 69-year-old filmmaker is up for speculation.

Public Hero, Private Enemy

J. Edgar

**1/2 out of ****

Directed by: Clint Eastwood

Starring: Leonardo DiCaprio, Armie Hammer, Naomi Watts, Judi Dench and Josh Lucas

Running time: 137 minutes

There’s something fascinating about having the man who embodied the archetype of the corrupt cop in the Dirty Harry films direct a biographical picture about prolific FBI director J. Edgar Hoover.

At first glance, the two figures seem to be character foils. But upon reflection of watching Clint Eastwood’s J. Edgar, there is much common ground between Frisco’s gritty six-shooter and America’s white knight of crime. They both pursue justice and are committed to doing the right thing, even if that means going beyond proper jurisdiction.

But J. Edgar is far from a rough, gnarly, unapologetic action film in the Clint Eastwood (and Harry Callahan) tradition; instead, it’s a safe, chaste, insightful history lesson about one of the 20th century’s most remarkable and controversial figures. In other words, it's an ordinary dissection of an extraordinary American.

Hoover is played by Leonardo DiCaprio, who is more convincing than the patchy makeup work pasted on him implies. In the midst of having his memoirs transcribed by a collective of writers, an aged Hoover tries to sum up his rich legacy - one that made him what many considered to be the second-most powerful man in America underneath every administration from Coolidge to Nixon.

J. Edgar picks and chooses the highlights of his biography, from his rise to fame as an impassioned Justice Department advisor, who led planned raids against riotous Bolshevik groups, to a towering figure in crime-fighting during a time where gangsters were the most glorified stars in the newspapers and on the big screen. He also fought for and approved a centralized fingerprint system, which has certainly paid dividends for any police force or television network with a cop procedural currently airing.

Beyond his most prolific cases, notably the murder of John Dillinger and the manhunt for Charles Lindbergh’s kidnapped child, J. Edgar focuses on the many ironies that made up the man’s life.

Although he was a moral man who strictly disciplined his officers, he had no problem keeping a few confidential documents handy in case he needed to bring down the governments of the era. Although he worked hard to maintain a public image as an all-American hero, he was an isolated, closeted recluse with few friends and confidantes.

Among this modest number of acquaintances was his personal assistant, the dapper Clyde Tolsson (Armie Hammer), and the film - written by Milk scribe Dustin Lance Black - suggests that this burgeoning friendship was one of a homoerotic nature. Hoover was also a sheltered ‘mama’s boy,’ intimidated by his domineering mother, Annie (a stellar Judi Dench), who rarely glowed in appreciation of her son’s accomplishments.

While J. Edgar Hoover looked into the country’s secrets, he had difficulty confronting his own. This is intriguing, yet unfortunate for a biographical film whose purpose is supposed to confront its subject's legacy.

Regardless, DiCaprio is solid here, although his range is notably less impressive than it was in Martin Scorsese’s terrific 2004 historical biopic, The Aviator. As a young man, he encompasses the stalwart crime-fighter's electrifying drive to justice. Recounting tales of catching gangsters underneath mounds of old man makeup, however, DiCaprio’s voice still has a youthful verve and confidence. In these bizarre segments, Hoover sounds like a 30-year-old but looks like Jack Nicholson.

One wishes that J. Edgar would have chronicled the changes in the man himself with as much keen insight as it recalls how he revolutionized criminal justice in America. Most biographical films stress the character first before the history, although J. Edgar bucks this trend: it is more of a richly acted museum display or history lesson than it is an engaging character study.

Although some of the ironies mentioned above are intriguing, there is a stunning lack of personality in Black's script. In the film, the young men working on Hoover’s memoirs are trying to figure out whether or not the American legend was a hero or a villain. The film makes the case for both; however, it may have been more potent if it had only pursued one of these characterizations.

You Can Check Out Any Time You Like…

Martha Marcy May Marlene

**** out of ****

Directed by: Sean Durkin

Starring: Elizabeth Olsen, John Hawkes, Sarah Paulson, Hugh Dancy and Brady Corbet

Running time: 102 minutes

The sorrow comes in waves for Martha (Elizabeth Olsen) after she decides to flee from a cult commune in upstate New York. She tiptoes out of her quaint sleeping quarters one still morning and retreats headlong into the forest.

Later that day, her voice chattering, Martha phones her protective sister, Lucy (Sarah Paulson). Lucy picks her up and lets her stay at the newly built Connecticut cottage that she shares with her English husband, Ted (Hugh Dancy).

It may be a vacation home for the young couple, but it only brings home the worst fears for the unstable Martha, haunted by the memories of her abusive cult leader, Patrick (John Hawkes) – a man who told her that “fear is the greatest emotion because it gives you full awareness.”

Even though she is hundreds of miles away from Patrick and the subservient life she led for two dismal years, Martha is fully and completely aware. The wanting come in waves, too, and Martha wants peace. Unfortunately, peace is hard to maintain when you are cold, alone and desperate.

If you get past the cleverly alliterative names in the title – Martha is referred to as “Marcy May” on the commune and all women living there use “Marlene” when they answer the phone – then there are two more you should not forget: Elizabeth Olsen and Sean Durkin.

Olsen, younger sibling to twins Mary-Kate and Ashley, is astonishing in her screen debut, where she encounters a role of constant emotional complexity. Her face is plain but opaque and hard to read, and as fragments of her memories from two years on the cult return to her damaged psyche, Olsen remains deeply vulnerable while becoming increasingly unpredictable.

Alone in the darkness at night, Martha is frightened that the folks from the commune will return. She dreads looking out the window or into the distance and narrowly avoids eye contact with anyone or anything. Olsen is shatteringly good, her character unable to get rid of the conflicted feelings that grip at her, which seep into the comfortable framework of Lucy's cottage.

Aligned with her point-of-view, suspense steadily builds for the audience, as well. It is one of the many pleasures from watching a film – and a film debut – from a writer/director who has capable control over ever tinted frame.

Like Martha, we seamlessly wander between scenes in the present and mementos from the past, and Durkin steers through these jumps of time with impressive smoothness and efficiency. The tinny bellows of the musical score by Daniel Bensi and Saunder Jurriaans, distant yet incessant, keep us within her entrapped state of mind.

Sarah Paulson and Hugh Dancy also offer strong supporting work, as the former tries to reconnect with the younger sister who abandoned her, while the latter is curious about her whereabouts, of which Martha has remained silent.

Those whereabouts, a self-sufficient centre where women and men have separate quarters for eating, working and sleeping, is rampant with "family" secrets. Martha goes along with this "family," hoping to find a role and a purpose as “a leader and a teacher,” as its leader Patrick so poignantly puts it.

This Patrick is played by John Hawkes, one of American independent cinema’s greatest treasures. Fresh off a sharp, gritty turn in Winter’s Bone that garnered him a deserved Oscar nomination, Hawkes measures a terrific balance of menace and seduction with his antagonist character. He ably coaxes the males and females on the commune to commit ungrateful acts for him, knowing that they blindly oblige to prove their loyalty.

Hawkes, piercing glare and all, is, to use another word beginning with “M,” mesmerizing. Here’s another word with that letter that sums up Martha Marcy May Marlene: masterpiece.