The Concert “This French made film is part farce, part BLUES BROTHERS style putting-the-band-back-together film and part heist-type film. At the centre of THE CONCERT is Andreï Filipov (Aleksei Guskov) a once acclaimed Russian orchestra conductor whose career was destroyed 30 years ago during the USSR’s Brezhnev era. Now reduced to working as a janitor, Andreï gets a shot at conducting again when he comes up with a scheme to reunite with his old musician friends and then travel to Paris with them in order to impersonate the Bolshoi Theatre Orchestra. Andreï’s plan also includes convincing the acclaimed French violinist Anne-Marie Jacquet (Mélanie Laurent from Inglourious Basterds) to play with his impostor orchestra for deeply personal reasons. For the most part THE CONCERT is a fun comedy/drama where even its stories of anti-Semitic persecution and lives torn apart under Soviet rule are treated somewhat lightly. For most of its running time the humour oscillates between poignant commentary, wicked satire and absurdism. While it doesn’t have the same savage bite of Billy Wilders 1961 Berlin-set ONE, TWO, THREE, it does enjoy putting the boot into characters such as former KGB man Ivan Gavrilov (Valeri Barinov) who cling onto a highly idealized view of what life was like under communist rule. As the film’s title obviously states, there is a concert as the centrepiece of this film and it is one of those moments of sheer cinematic exuberance. -- the conclusion in THE CONCERT is just sublime. The combination of music and incredibly moving acting with the heartbreaking flashbacks and the joyous flashforwards somehow wraps up every aspect of the film in a way that is completely satisfying. By doing so, this terrific little film delivers one of cinema’s most moving and satisfying emotional payoffs in years, transforming a film that is good into a film of true greatness.” – Thomas Caldwell, Cinema Autopsy In French and Russian with English Subtitles. Get Low “Reclusive Felix Bush (Robert Duvall) is an object of fascination and wild rumors in his small, Depression era Southern town, a hermit suspected of extravagantly evil deeds. In director Aaron Schneider's funny, touching debut GET LOW, as Bush nears the end of his life, his decision to set the record straight with a ‘living funeral,’ roils the town and old ghosts even as it forces him out of his self-imposed isolation. A deft blend of drama, comedy, mystery, and a touch of romance, this self-financed indie that received the benediction of the Sundance Film Festival as one of its Premieres selections will appeal strongly to a mature audience drawn to robust characters, dry wit, and great performances. A bad night inspires Bush to ‘get low’ and account for his life and the event that sent him into exile in the woods. The way he plans to do that is with a kind of living wake where all are invited to share their stories of the old man with the wild hair and beard and fearsome reputation. With a dearth of actual death in the area, undertaker Frank Quinn (Bill Murray) welcomes the business, but leaves the details to his young, far more sincere associate, Buddy (Lucas Black, SLING BLADE). Bush's errand in town also brings him face to face with the widow Maddie Darrow (Sissy Spacek), a woman from his past who might be the only person in town able to separate Bush's life from his legend. Screenwriters Chris Provenzano (TV’s Mad Men) and C. Gaby Mitchell BLOOD DIAMOND) take their inspiration for their story from the life of Felix ‘Bush’ Breazeale, who really did hold a living funeral in 1938 and like the Bush of this tale, did sell lottery tickets with his land as the prize as an incentive to get people to attend. From those bare bones, the writers have fashioned a complex, character-driven yarn in which the truth of Bush's life and just what it is he has been running from is gradually revealed, and in which a man who has been alone for so long suddenly finds himself drawn back into human company. GET LOW builds to a moving climax, but it is never maudlin as the comic elements serve to keep the movie buoyant. It is also an actor's clinic. The entire ensemble is strong with Murray and Black especially impressive in their support of Duvall and Schneider eloquently captures the relaxed rhythms of small-town life. This is not a big film, but is one with a very big heart.” – Pam Grady, Box Office Magazine The Girl Who Played with Fire "Ordinarily, a film that was made in Sweden and is being released in the United States by a tiny indie distributor would barely merit a footnote on the overcrowded summer movie calendar. But THE GIRL WHO PLAYED WITH FIRE, the second film in director Daniel Alfredson and screenwriter Jonas Frykberg's Millennium trilogy (adapted, of course, from Stieg Larsson's best-selling thrillers), is a peculiar exception. Like its predecessor, THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO, this is likely to be one of 2010's top-grossing foreign-language films -- and that's without reaching anywhere near the total audience of Larsson's novels. Exonerated of the libel charges that sent him to prison in TATTOO, Blomkvist is back at the helm of Millennium, his muckraking magazine, which is about to publish a young journalist's explosive exposé of a sex-trafficking ring that implicates many of Sweden's top political, business and law enforcement figures. (At least in Larsson's vision of 21st-century Sweden, investigative journalism, charmingly enough, still matters.) Lisbeth has vanished from his life without a trace, and Mikael takes up again, in desultory fashion, with Erika (Lena Endre), his more age-appropriate co-worker. We know, of course, that Lisbeth is back in Stockholm but living under the radar, dropping in occasionally on her ex-girlfriend Miriam (Yasmine Garbi) and also on her loathsome guardian Bjurman (Peter Andersson), with whom she has a little unfinished business. Actually, there's a whole lot of secrets-from-the-past. When Blomkvist's journalistic protégé, the one with the big prostitution scoop, is brutally murdered along with his activist wife, and the gun found in their apartment has Lisbeth's fingerprints on it, then we've got a crackerjack three- or four-way manhunt. Blomkvist searches for Lisbeth, certain that she didn't do it, and also hunts for the real killers; gloomy Jewish cop Bublanski (Johan Kylén) plods through his investigation, and if he's less convinced of Lisbeth's innocence at least he's not corrupt, unlike every other authority figure in the story. Lisbeth herself, of course, pursues all kinds of people, including the shadowy figures who've set her up. At the end of the road lie a notorious Russian gangster and his robotic minion, a big, blond palooka seemingly impervious to pain -- but as readers of Larsson's novels know, I'd better stop there." - Andrew O'Hehir, Salon In Swedish with English Subtitles. The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest In Swedish with English Subtitles.
The Kids Are All Right “One of the best scenes of any film this year takes place in THE KIDS ARE ALL RIGHT. The setting is a small dinner party at which Annette Bening, as a lesbian with a longtime partner (Julianne Moore), seems on the verge of some kind of breakdown. The scene resonates so well because it presents, with accuracy and subtlety, something that we've all experienced, but that is rarely depicted onscreen. This is a Lisa Cholodenko film, and the scene is an example of the rich and psychologically truthful work that this director does without being flashy and calling attention to it. Cholodenko has made two previous features that have had an outsize influence despite their low budgets. Her first, HIGH ART, redefined Ally Sheedy and put Radha Mitchell and Patricia Clarkson on the map. Her second, LAUREL CANYON, provided Frances McDormand with her most important showcase since FARGO. But THE KIDS ARE ALL RIGHT is a step up, not just into bigger budgets and bigger stars but also into a more fully realized filmmaking. Like her other movies, this one has vivid characters and strong performances and flows like a slice of life set in an appealing, interesting world. But this one also has a good story and, if you're paying attention, a distinct point of view. Bening and Moore are Nic and Jules, a lesbian couple with two kids. Each has a biological teenager within the family, and the kids are genetic half siblings, in that they each have the same father, an anonymous sperm donor. Their family life is completely unexotic, unglamorous and totally routine. And then daughter Joni (Mia Wasikowska), having turned 18, gets in touch with their bio-dad (Mark Ruffalo), and there begins a tale. The bio-dad is tolerant, fun, rides a motorcycle; he's a chef who specializes in healthy cuisine, owns a restaurant and is altogether a more glamorous figure than the two ‘Momses,’ who are a bit older and more burdened with domestic responsibility. And so, without meaning to, his presence on the scene destabilizes family life. Or maybe, indeed, he does mean to sabotage this family, only he doesn't know it. Along the way, it's an entertaining series of incidents, full of fun character turns and unexpected detail. But gradually a sense sets in that what we're seeing stands for something bigger, that this is archetypal, very contemporary and, in the gentlest way possible, fiercely political. It's a movie about basic things, about the meaning of family and the vulnerability of families, with the suggestion that the ones most subject to bombardment are the families least protected by custom and tradition. They have to find their strength from within." - Mick LaSalle, San Francisco Chronicle Mao's Last Dancer “The irony of Li Cunxin's unique and amazing story is that its political backdrop is in fact the springboard for his success on the international ballet stage. Not only is his success the result of Mao's Communist regime, it also comes in spite of it. This is a story that has a little bit of everything. Politics raises its red flag throughout, but this rags to riches story with a fish-out-of water element also embraces a sweet romance, a fundamental love for family and a bitter-sweet dream that is fulfilled despite extraordinary odds. These dramatic elements coupled with the artistic, theatrical and musical make it an ideal project for director Bruce Beresford, who delivers an engrossing and profoundly moving film that hits the emotional bullseye multiple times. Of course, in adapting Li Cunxin's best-selling autobiography, the challenge facing Beresford and screenwriter Jan Sardi was to find a dancer with technical brilliance as well as presence, charisma and language skills to portray the central character. Chi Cao from the Birmingham Royal Ballet was selected to play the adult Li, with two younger actors (Chengwu and Huang Wen Bin) as the teenager trained at the Beijing Arts Academy and the young boy taken at a tender age from his peasant family from Shandong Province. The roles at different ages morph seamlessly into each other; it is a testament to Sardi's storytelling and Beresford's direction that we engage with all three actors. Needless to say, the demands on Chi Cao are by far the greatest -- emotionally and physically -- and he is splendid. The film begins in Houston, Texas in 1981, when a wide-eyed Li, speaking only stumbling English, arrives from Beijing as a cultural exchange student but ends up a star. Bruce Greenwood is a sound choice as Ben, the choreographer (Li's host), whose professional visit to China the previous year, makes way for this cultural exchange. In flashback, we learn of the circumstances that bring Li to America, how the Chinese Government takes him, the 6th child, from his parents (Joan Chen, Wang Shuang Bao) to learn to be trained as a dancer. 'Build up your strength and soon you'll be able to fly,' his teacher tells him but there is conflict when communism and politics are married into the ballet art form. Especially when it is Madame Mao's Beijing Dance Academy and she insists of politics being at the forefront of every production. The dance sequences are fabulous and the crescendo builds and builds as we watch Li's triumphant performance on the biggest night of the Houston arts calendar. Beresford excels at bringing all the elements together in this splendid and ambitious film that presses all our emotional buttons. Christopher Gordon's rousing score, Peter James' wonderful cinematography and Harold Pinter's immaculate production design all add greatly as we become immersed in Li's inspiring story.” – Louise Keller, Urban Cinefile In English and in Mandarin with English Subtitles. Micmacs “Among the most popular Hollywood films of the 1930s were those by Frank Capra (MR. DEEDS GOES TO TOWN, MR. SMITH GOES TO WASHINGTON, YOU CAN’T TAKE IT WITH YOU) in which ordinary people triumphed over corrupt politicians, Scrooge-like businessmen and the like. On the basis of his new film, the rather untranslatable MICMACS, French director Jean-Pierre Jeunet may be the Capra of the early 21st century. Until now, Jeunet's hallmark has been eccentricity, as evoked in his early films, (DELICATESSEN and THE CITY OF LOST CHILDREN) but he is also clearly fascinated by fate, or destiny, or whatever you want to call it, as he demonstrated in the highly popular AMELIE and the almost equally ambitious A VERY LONG ENGAGEMENT. MICMACS combines many of the elements of his earlier work: an unusually dense and wildly imaginative visual approach, a collection of quirky characters and an underdog hero who attempts to prevail, whether by fate or persistence, against the forces of evil. For some, Jeunet's work is indigestible, and you can understand why: his films are like eating a rather rich French meal accompanied by a little too much wine. But any post-prandial discomfort is surely made worthwhile by the enjoyment of the feast itself. The director has also been accused of being overly simplistic, and this is true in the sense that Capra and so many other directors of the so-called golden age of cinema portrayed their characters in black and white, without too many shades of grey. The arms dealers pilloried in MICMACS are corrupt crooks involved in a despicable trade. Bazil, amusingly played by Dany Boon, has every reason to hate the arms dealers in question; he blames them not only for the death of his father, a soldier blown to pieces in the North African desert in the film's prologue, but also for his own situation. He was shot in the head one night during a random gunfight on the street outside the DVD store he managed and where, a moment before, he had been quietly enjoying for the umpteenth time a (dubbed) copy of Howard Hawks' great thriller, THE BIG SLEEP. Deciding by the toss of a coin not to remove the bullet in case the operation causes even more damage, Bazil's doctors discharge him in precarious health, and it doesn't help that he quickly loses his job and his accommodation. The homeless and disoriented Bazil is adopted by a bunch of seven misfits, outsiders who live in a scrapyard and who find various inventive ways to recycle the detritus of modern city living. The seven include the amazing Elastic Girl (Julie Ferrier), a contortionist without peer; Slammer (Jean-Pierre Marielle), an elderly ex-con and an expert when it comes to opening locked doors and safes; Calculator (Marie-Julie Baup), a shy young girl whose name accurately describes her work assignments; Remington (Omar Sy), who is forever writing on an old-fashioned typewriter; and Buster, played by Dominique Pinon, the rubber-faced actor who has been in every one of Jeunet's films. They are all looked after by Madame Chow (Yolande Moreau), who loves to cook for them. Jeunet's film are always a joy for the film buff. His work, on one level, may be simplistic as he creates a world where good triumphs over evil, but it's an engaging and beautifully realized fairytale that he tells.” – David Stratton, The Australian In French with English Subtitles. The Tillman Story “Just before Sundance, director Amir Bar-Lev changed the title of his documentary from ‘I’m Pat F@#*ing Tillman,’ reportedly the last words that the NFL star-turned-Army Ranger said while being gunned down by his own comrades in Afghanistan. But this seemingly nondescript new title has a resonance that becomes clear when you watch Bar-Lev's fascinating account, made with the consent and cooperation of Tillman's family. You see, THE TILLMAN STORY isn't just about the fact that Tillman was killed by friendly fire and the military brass lied about it, and essentially have never stopped lying. It's also about the fact that from the moment of his death, and even before, the former Arizona State and Arizona Cardinals star became a mythic, über-patriotic hero, the centerpiece of a right-wing, pro-military propaganda fable. He was never allowed to be who he was, a surprising, curious, and even eccentric individual who didn't fit the mold of either football player or gung-ho soldier. Tillman returned from a tour of duty in Iraq convinced that the war there was both ill-advised and illegal; he reportedly had read essays about American foreign policy by Noam Chomsky and expressed an interest in meeting him. But as Bar-Lev's film makes clear, it isn't fair for the left to try to steal Tillman back and make him into its own hero figure. He joined the military in the first place, it appears, out of a genuine belief in patriotic self-sacrifice (although he never discussed the decision in public), and reading Chomsky was part of Tillman's wide-ranging self-education, which also included Ralph Waldo Emerson and the Book of Mormon. (He was personally an atheist, but had an almost academic interest in religion.) In this funny, profane and profoundly sad film, Bar-Lev depicts Tillman and his similarly unconventional parents and brothers as belonging to a vanishing species: Americans who hew to no ideological standard, and who actually think for themselves.” – Andrew O’Hehir, Salon Waiting For Superman “Exhilarating, heartbreaking and righteous, Davis Guggenheim's epic assessment of the rise and fall of the U.S. school,WAITING FOR SUPERMAN, is also a kind of high-minded thriller: Can the American education system be cured? Can it be made globally competitive? Can it, at least, be made educational? It is a bucket of ice water in the face of politically motivated complacency. What Guggenheim brings to his documentaries (which include AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH and IT MIGHT GET LOUD) are qualities generally not associated (wrongly) with nonfiction filmmaking: an agile, cinematic eye, a sense of rhythm and fluidity, and an awareness that unpalatable information has to be delivered with a side order of humor, not stentorian stuffiness. The information presented here is sobering: This country spends more to incarcerate someone for four years than it would cost to educate the same inmate in private school for 12 years (and likely keep him/her out of prison). But the monetary waste caused by poor schools is just one item on the film's agenda: The unfulfilled potential, social disintegration and generational failure -- perpetuated by the hamster-wheel logic of the nation's entrenched school bureaucracies -- are mourned throughout. And it's the arrogance of so-called educators that comes under Guggenheim's withering moral/intellectual assault. And yet, the film is never less than buoyant, thanks largely to the dedicated and effective teachers and the children -- little packages of promise in Los Angeles, D.C., the Bronx and Harlem -- Guggenheim focuses. The title of the film comes from educational reformer Geoffrey Canada, of the Harlem Children's Zone: As clips of George Reeves, as early TV's Man of Steel, play out onscreen, Canada recalls thinking as a boy that, somehow, sometime, Superman would arrive in the South Bronx and save him. The allegory therein is that Americans maintain a fantasy about the way their schools will be changed for the better, even when it's those very Americans who resist change whenever it puts on its red cape and tights. WAITING FOR SUPERMAN has a pacing, rhythm, and sense of human connection that keep it engaging and, at times, very, very moving. And the film also addresses very possible solutions and the kinds of people who can apply them; as such, it's a movie full of spirit and hope.” – John Anderson, Salon Wild Grass “If you want to find the fountain of youth, start your search near a director’s chair. Ingmar Bergman lived to 89; Michelangelo Antonioni to 94. Eric Rohmer was still working when he died at 89; Portugal’s Manoel de Oliveira continues to direct at an astounding 101. Alain Resnais just debuted his latest, WILD GRASS, at 88. And it’s a work of playful vigor and youthful wit. Of often frustrating symbolism and willful obscurantism, too; this is, after all, a film from the man who gave us the impenetrable LAST YEAR AT MARIENBAD the thorniest rose in the early-’60s avant-garden. The story, based on a novel by Christian Gailly (Resnais was always the most literary of France’s post-war filmmakers), has a playful plot. A woman has her purse snatched. A man finds her wallet. Introduced by accident, they begin a back-and-forth dance of courtship. Complicated only by the fact that the man is married, and the woman may or may not have a lesbian lover. The woman’s sexuality is a little vague -- early on we’re told she always goes to a certain saleswoman at the shoe store because the salesgirl’s touch gives her a ‘thrill’ -- but then, much about this movie is. For example, when Andrew Dusollier goes to the police station to return the wallet, he worries that the policeman will recognize him. From what? We don’t know. Luckily, it’s possible to ignore these peculiarities for quite a while, though, and focus on the style. That was something Resnais always had in abundance and it hasn’t abandoned him with age. If anything, it’s only grown more acute. The opening sequence is shot so as to teasingly deny us a look at our heroine’s face; our hero’s long, soul-searching drives are accompanied by tiny, superimposed shots illustrating the dialogue in his mind. Even the narration is amusing, as an off-screen observer proves to be anything but omniscient as he begins the story, stops, resumes, changes his mind and seems to be making things up as he goes along. So, alas, does Resnais young at heart, but also playfully childish, too, playing a game here to which only he knows the rules.” – Stephen Whitty, The Star-Ledger In French with English Subtitles. Winter's Bone “Every so often a film gets under our skin with its haunting authenticity, reinforcing our faith in the wonderfully transporting power of cinematic storytelling. WINTER’S BONE is unquestionably that film. With this powerful, impeccably told story, co-writer/director Debra Granik has established herself as a supremely talented filmmaker. Just as impressive as Granik's sure-handed direction is the subtle and heart-wrenching performance of the film's star, Jennifer Lawrence. Lawrence, 19, already deserves an Oscar nomination for her role as Ree, a teenage girl forced prematurely into adulthood by extreme circumstances. It seems wrong to reveal too much of the plot since the film's potency lies in watching it unspool convincingly but without predictability, in an ominous, quasi-documentary style. In her low-budget adaptation of Daniel Woodrell's novel, Granik delves with fascinating specificity into a world not seen in movies. We've seen backwoods sagas, we've seen outlaws and drug dealers, we've seen stories about absentee parents and teens thrust into extraordinary situations. But we've never seen anything like this blend of austere, regional tale and riveting thriller. It's a suspenseful drama that is also an ethnographic portrait of a place, time and people. Ree is a tough-minded 17-year-old, fiercely protective of her siblings and her drug-addled mother. They live in a ramshackle house in Missouri, surrounded by acres of scrubby forest, with farm animals and stray dogs as companions for the children, who have little more than a weathered trampoline and broken toys to keep them amused. Ree's father has been in prison, but the family has somehow eked out an existence. When Ree learns that her father has put up the house for bond and jumped bail, she is hellbent on finding him. She will move mountains to keep her family intact. Speaking of mountains, Ree's journey takes perilous turns throughout this remote Ozarks community. She is forced to appeal to distant relatives who make the nasty hillbillies in DELIVERANCE look like welcoming, gentle souls. The film sidesteps sentimentality and manipulation, making it all the more enthralling and poignant. Ree's Uncle Teardrop (a brilliantly off-kilter John Hawkes) initially comes off like a meth-head. But he is more complex than he appears. WINTER’S BONE is the year's best drama thus far. Every word spoken is pitch-perfect, and some utterances even make raw poetry. Film fans will lose out on a remarkable experience if they miss this study of a character whose resilience, despite all odds, is deeply moving.” – Claudia Puig, USA Today
TIMES & DATES SUBJECT TO CHANGE Please call 503-378-7676 to confirm. |
France. 2010. Directed by Radu Mihaileanu. (119 mins.) Not Rated.
United States. 2010. Directed by Aaron Schneider. (100 mins.) Rated PG-13.
Sweden. 2010. Directed by Daniel Alfredson. (129 mins.) Not Rated. 
Sweden. 2010. Directed by Daniel Alfredson. (148 mins.) Not Rated.
United States. 2010. Directed by Lisa Cholodenko. (106 mins.) Rated R.
Australia. 2010. Directed by Bruce Beresford. (117 mins.) Rated PG.
France. 2010. Directed by Jean-Pierre Jeunet. (105 mins.) Rated R.
United States. 2010. Directed by Amir Bar-Lev. (94 mins.) Not Rated.
United States. 2010. Directed by Davis Guggenheim. (102 mins.) Rated PG.
France. 2010. Directed by Alain Resnais. (104 mins.) Rated PG.
United States. 2010. Directed by Debra Granik. (100 mins.) Rated R.
©Salem Cinema 2009