Originally posted on AD Forums on February 3, 2013. This review contains marked spoilers.
The whole reason I watched this movie was because of an AV Club comment. I wish I had taken down who wrote this immortal summary of the Robert Downey Jr.-led version of Sherlock Holmes, because it is probably the most accurate, pithy, profound summary of a film I've ever heard. The comment, mildly paraphrased, went something like "The Ritchie Sherlock Holmes is pretty faithful to the books, but instead of Sherlock finding clues, he punches people."
That's pretty much exactly the movie, in a nutshell. As a summer blockbuster action film, it has a lot of strengths, and is a remarkably good film, with plenty of visual inventiveness, fun casting, and a script that, while problematic, isn't completely asinine. As a Sherlock Holmes film, it's an absolutely preposterous exercise that somehow believes Holmes was an 1800s James Bond who uses his deductive skills most clearly to figure out how to punch people effectively.
The storyline is one of my problems with the film at large. My initial misgivings about the strong steeping of supernatural goings-on in the film SPOILER turned out to be completely unfounded by the ending, where Sherlock, for the first time in the movie, breaks down the entirety of Lord Blackwood's plot and monologues at the villain about its various groundings in reality, an enjoyable sequence if one ignores the fact that Sherlock really could just shoot this guy right now END SPOILER, but there is still a ridiculous amount of shadowy things that amount to nothing, sequel hooks (which I hate), characters that needed serious fleshing-out to have the kind of story impact that the film hopes they'd have, and the list goes on. One of my biggest problems with the film was SPOILER the nature of The Order of Four itself. The film establishes that most of the Order is "good" and practices "good" magic that influences the entirety of the world's operations, but that Lord Blackwood's "practical" magic is against their codes. So why are so many people willing to shift to Blackwood's side before that immolating demonstration of might, if their codas bind them to "good" magic? More importantly, because Sherlock reveals that all of Blackwood's arts were parlor tricks... what does The Order of Four actually do to influence the course of the world? Are they just a bunch of geriatric delusional sods? END SPOILER I'm probably dissecting a popcorn movie too much, and, weirdly, most of the movie holds up better to scrutiny than, say, Silver Linings Playbook.
In regards to the script executing characters... it succeeds and fails. (It's hard to give a proper analysis of the characters of Sherlock Holmes without going back to the books/other interpretations/common cultural consensus, so this will probably be the most biased part of the review for me.) I really did like Jude Law's interpretation of Watson head and shoulders above RDJ's Sherlock. Law not only nails the exasperation, but incredible loyalty, of Watson, but isn't portrayed as the complete moron he's usually made to be in popular culture. The script does Watson a lot of favors as a character, too: his affections for Mary Morstan (a near non-entity of a character) are nicely played, and his arc through the film, holding onto both her and the wild life he's become accustomed to with Sherlock, is remarkably subtle in a movie where bombast, bondage nudity, and punching things often substitute for nuance. As for RDJ's Sherlock, he is too much in the mold of the "rogue hero" that's been typified by Captain Jack Sparrow. The movie wants us to so desperately like Sherlock while conceding that you should find Sherlock aggravating. It can't have both, and the character suffers for it, especially as, in this iteration, we are supposed to see him as a genius, a viable romantic partner, someone worth defending, and someone who should be dropped off a bridge, sometimes all in the same moment. Too many paradoxes to work. For what it's worth, Downey Jr. plays this Sherlock-like character very well. He is appropriately ruggedly handsome and irksome in equal measure, and I can totally see his character slogging through a dirty, grimy, grotesque underworld just to find the frog fetus that'll unlock his case, unlike some of the more gorgeously polished actors who've played Sherlock (coughBenedictTimothyCarltonCumberbatchcough). The other problem with Watson and Holmes in this variant of the story, though, is that they are both presented as very intelligent individuals with their own individual strengths... whose primary mode of solving crimes is knocking the shit out of anyone in their sight line. I get that this is an action movie, but the integration of the action elements is wholly inorganic and distracting in all but one case (SPOILER the hog-slaughtering facility sequence END SPOILER). A beloved series predicated on intellectualism is probably the worst thing to ever turn into a beat-em-up action flick anyways.
I actually liked Irene Adler here more than I've liked other interpretations of her character, and I'm pretty sure that fell entirely on Rachel McAdams' acting, as she's turned into a slightly more capable version of your typical action-movie heroine here. She's being put in harms' way by lots of men, and only other men can save her! (At least she's not being turned straight by Sherlock, I guess. Poor Irene Adler.) Not exactly progressive, but again, Rachel McAdams plays her with a really nice mixture of guile, genuine concern, and shiftiness. Probably the worst bit of character execution regards Moriarty, aka the dude with a gun that looks like a knife. Finding out that this malevolent figure pulling the strings is little more than a sequel hook is pretty damn annoying. And as for Lord Blackwood... Mark Strong seriously looks like Evil Steve Carell and it was distracting.
Truthfully, as an action movie - and discounting that making this canon an action film was a terribly weird idea - it has a lot to recommend it over other similar-minded films. The set work, costume design, and visuals (aside from some terrible CGI in the boatyard and regarding the construction of London Bridge) are beautiful, sumptuous, and work well for the setting. Again, aside from some terrible CGI, this is a beautiful-looking film, and, more importantly, a real-looking film. (Seriously, those frogs were disgusting-looking). The acting is uniformly excellent (even from Evil Steve Carell, who I didn't say much about because his whole character is "OMGZMENACING"), the cinematography is inventive and fun, and Guy Ritchie directs one hell of a good action movie. The visual language of Sherlock Holmes is top-tier. Much as I don't like the general idea of Sherlock punching people all the time, the fight scenes are well-choreographed and certainly more interesting and involving than most of Nolan's Dark Knight work. It's never a boring movie by any stretch of the movie, and damn it, the studio/Ritchie/the actors wanted to make this a really entertaining action movie. They certainly did that well.
But how on earth does one read Sherlock Holmes and go, "this is prime action movie material"? Part of me is torn between the fact that this is genuinely a well-designed crowd-pleaser, something that's very hard to find in this media environment. Another part of me wants to just be really annoyed at how I really didn't like what it did tot he canon. I'm gonna split the difference in my score. I really enjoyed watching this movie, and would probably enjoy watching it again, but its weird deviation from the logic of the novels does read to me as defilement.
***.5/*****
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Les Miserables (2012)
Originally posted on AD Forums on December 31, 2012. This review contains heavy spoilers, which are unmarked.
I made the horrible mistake of getting really plastered the night before seeing Les Miserables. It wasn't the impending seeing of the film that made me drink - it was more that me and my girls found a Pokemon Drinking Game and went crazy. We then spent most of the evening drunkenly watching the newer Sherlock series (with Benedict Cumberbatch) and commented mostly on how awesome scene transitions and the wallpaper in Sherlock's apartment were. (Note: apparently I only notice good set design while drunk.) Why am I even bringing this up, you may ask?
Because Les Mis's biggest failing is scene placement and transitions. Never have I seen a film with so many moments that could've been fixed by a different director - and I'm going to go against the pack and suggest that the editor of this film also needs to take some blame for this. Most people have suggested that Tom Hooper has an obvious "problem" with using intense close-ups on his characters, but the intense close-ups themselves aren't the entire problem, and, in some instances, work absolutely beautifully (Gavroche's death is a pretty good instance of it - the constantly spiraling-ing camera, cutting to a wider shot of the one revolutionary who cared for him absolutely losing his shit, is a place where Hooper's claustrophobic focus is well-suited, and the dread over seeing the revolution's mascot about to be killed wouldn't have been accomplished well any other way). It's when there's no cutting away from those intense close-ups that there begins to be a problem. For my money, the worst-shot number is "A Heart Full of Love", because what is supposed to be a duet, and then a trio, never actually shows all two/three participants on screen at the same time. That's just directing 101... but the editor is just as culpable, for stringing together a bunch of unnerving close-ups without much invention. Even if Hooper didn't film all three participants at the same time, something we'll probably never know (because I don't see a different master cut of this ever being released), the editor is his accomplice in destroying the song's presentation.
Oddly, the transition out of that moment is one of the best ones, and the replacement of "On My Own" really helps to stretch out Eponine's threadbare story to fit the entire third act instead of just pieces of it. (I know it's threadbare. I played her. I love the girl but she doesn't have shit-all to do, and the movie gives her big letter-giving moment to Gavroche.) But the over-reliance on the jump cut suggests that Hooper had no idea how to move this story along. A few have commented on the camera into the sky thing, but I feel like it's a nice way to link the characters who it pulls away from - Valjean and Javert. The jumpiness of the camera, especially getting away from "Look Down" and into "In My Life" (which was also horrendously shot in that you don't know Cosette's sitting on a bed until she gets off of it), is disorienting, and only makes France seem moreso like the most claustrophobic environment ever invented. Again, in some cases, this claustrophobia really works - seeing Fantine's coworkers versus Fantine as if the audience is the foreman being crowded by them is rather inspired. And some times, Hooper does let his setting breathe - "Do You Hear the People Sing", "On My Own", and especially the Finale.
I won't say that any time Hooper pulled away from his close-ups, the movie immediately worked. That's horrifically reductive and lessens the power of quite a few songs, especially Anne Hathaway's and Eddie Redmayne's, who I'm certain would not be talked up so much for awards if their big scenes weren't filmed that way. The raw emotion of what appears to be a single take for both for them pours out from the screen, and nothing else is needed but their explosive voices. (Redmayne's version of Marius' "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables" in particular stands out to me as being an incredible improvement over the stage. The versions I've seen revive the revolutionaries for a few moments as ghosts, and I was never comfortable with that imagery. The film eschews that, thankfully, which both makes the ending a powerful surprise for the audience, and doesn't take away from the depth of loneliness Marius is feeling in that moment, being the only one of his friends to survive a massacre.) I won't say that every open number is good, either. Helena Bonham-Carter really can't match Sacha Baron Cohen in "Master of the House", which is one of the most traditionally cinematically-staged numbers, but Mme. Thenardier is such a hard character to cast that I'm unsure if Hooper could've done better picking someone else.
Speaking of casting, Russell Crowe wasn't a bad singer. He just had the completely wrong style for this type of operatic movie. He wouldn't be out of place in Hair, honestly - he has a nice rock-opera style which, unfortunately, no one else in this movie possesses. He's not nearly the disaster everyone is insisting he is. Crowe has a nice handle on the melodic qualities of his songs, and can actually sing. His style, compared to Seyfried's delicate soprano lilt, or Jackman's powerful embodiment of Valjean's internal turmoil, is just wildly out of place for the setting. I hope everyone going "you tried" doesn't put him off of trying other musicals, since he'd be a good asset to a more modern-styled film.
For me, the movie worked the best when the raw emotion of the thing was allowed to shine through. Hathaway and Redmayne's numbers were things I already mentioned, but there are multiple instances where the film pulls everything together so well it's hard not to cry/cheer. Spoiler alert: I bawled for like five minutes after the end of the film because it was such a perfectly realized version of the Finale. Everything about the stage version, with all the dead flooding the space and singing their song of hope, was so beautifully pulled together, and, because of the film's changes, having the Bishop sing the harmony with Valjean and Fantine instead of Eponine had an unbelievably strong resonance that the original stage version, great as it is, didn't quite match. And the grand sweep over the new barricade, with some choice close-ups of Eponine and Enjolras and Gavroche and all the dead... Christ. It's like Hooper and the editor poured all their efforts into making that one scene everything any stage fan of the show could want, and it worked.
Beyond that, there are so many subtle moments that at least showcased how well the actors knew and believed in their characters. For all Russell Crowe is being derided, I had no doubt about his acting ability as Javert, and the short scene where he pins his honor medal on Gavroche was a huge highlight for me. Its taciturn nature belies how hugely emotional and destructive this moment will ultimately be to him. One such that didn't work, and that I feel the need to point out because it's one of my favorite aspects of the stage show, is
Overall, I know I've kind of bounced back and forth on this, but this movie gets a solid B for me. The distinct visual language of this film isn't always suitable, but it works far more than it doesn't, and it creates its own version of an epic that still conveys the deep emotionality and distress of the setting. I really liked it, and will probably see it again, when I'm sure that I won't spend a ridiculous amount of time crying into my shirtsleeve.
***.5/*****
One other note: this is a weird personal thing, but I absolutely love that the people in this movie look "realistically filthy" instead of "stage filthy". Like Eponine, for instance. (Sorry, I really love her.) She doesn't look clean by any stretch of the imagination, but she doesn't have caked-on dirt all over her, or bruises or anything. She just has greasy hair, dirty clothes, and a smudge on her here and there. Same goes for Prostitute!Fantine, who looks realistically freezing to death.
I made the horrible mistake of getting really plastered the night before seeing Les Miserables. It wasn't the impending seeing of the film that made me drink - it was more that me and my girls found a Pokemon Drinking Game and went crazy. We then spent most of the evening drunkenly watching the newer Sherlock series (with Benedict Cumberbatch) and commented mostly on how awesome scene transitions and the wallpaper in Sherlock's apartment were. (Note: apparently I only notice good set design while drunk.) Why am I even bringing this up, you may ask?
Because Les Mis's biggest failing is scene placement and transitions. Never have I seen a film with so many moments that could've been fixed by a different director - and I'm going to go against the pack and suggest that the editor of this film also needs to take some blame for this. Most people have suggested that Tom Hooper has an obvious "problem" with using intense close-ups on his characters, but the intense close-ups themselves aren't the entire problem, and, in some instances, work absolutely beautifully (Gavroche's death is a pretty good instance of it - the constantly spiraling-ing camera, cutting to a wider shot of the one revolutionary who cared for him absolutely losing his shit, is a place where Hooper's claustrophobic focus is well-suited, and the dread over seeing the revolution's mascot about to be killed wouldn't have been accomplished well any other way). It's when there's no cutting away from those intense close-ups that there begins to be a problem. For my money, the worst-shot number is "A Heart Full of Love", because what is supposed to be a duet, and then a trio, never actually shows all two/three participants on screen at the same time. That's just directing 101... but the editor is just as culpable, for stringing together a bunch of unnerving close-ups without much invention. Even if Hooper didn't film all three participants at the same time, something we'll probably never know (because I don't see a different master cut of this ever being released), the editor is his accomplice in destroying the song's presentation.
Oddly, the transition out of that moment is one of the best ones, and the replacement of "On My Own" really helps to stretch out Eponine's threadbare story to fit the entire third act instead of just pieces of it. (I know it's threadbare. I played her. I love the girl but she doesn't have shit-all to do, and the movie gives her big letter-giving moment to Gavroche.) But the over-reliance on the jump cut suggests that Hooper had no idea how to move this story along. A few have commented on the camera into the sky thing, but I feel like it's a nice way to link the characters who it pulls away from - Valjean and Javert. The jumpiness of the camera, especially getting away from "Look Down" and into "In My Life" (which was also horrendously shot in that you don't know Cosette's sitting on a bed until she gets off of it), is disorienting, and only makes France seem moreso like the most claustrophobic environment ever invented. Again, in some cases, this claustrophobia really works - seeing Fantine's coworkers versus Fantine as if the audience is the foreman being crowded by them is rather inspired. And some times, Hooper does let his setting breathe - "Do You Hear the People Sing", "On My Own", and especially the Finale.
I won't say that any time Hooper pulled away from his close-ups, the movie immediately worked. That's horrifically reductive and lessens the power of quite a few songs, especially Anne Hathaway's and Eddie Redmayne's, who I'm certain would not be talked up so much for awards if their big scenes weren't filmed that way. The raw emotion of what appears to be a single take for both for them pours out from the screen, and nothing else is needed but their explosive voices. (Redmayne's version of Marius' "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables" in particular stands out to me as being an incredible improvement over the stage. The versions I've seen revive the revolutionaries for a few moments as ghosts, and I was never comfortable with that imagery. The film eschews that, thankfully, which both makes the ending a powerful surprise for the audience, and doesn't take away from the depth of loneliness Marius is feeling in that moment, being the only one of his friends to survive a massacre.) I won't say that every open number is good, either. Helena Bonham-Carter really can't match Sacha Baron Cohen in "Master of the House", which is one of the most traditionally cinematically-staged numbers, but Mme. Thenardier is such a hard character to cast that I'm unsure if Hooper could've done better picking someone else.
Speaking of casting, Russell Crowe wasn't a bad singer. He just had the completely wrong style for this type of operatic movie. He wouldn't be out of place in Hair, honestly - he has a nice rock-opera style which, unfortunately, no one else in this movie possesses. He's not nearly the disaster everyone is insisting he is. Crowe has a nice handle on the melodic qualities of his songs, and can actually sing. His style, compared to Seyfried's delicate soprano lilt, or Jackman's powerful embodiment of Valjean's internal turmoil, is just wildly out of place for the setting. I hope everyone going "you tried" doesn't put him off of trying other musicals, since he'd be a good asset to a more modern-styled film.
For me, the movie worked the best when the raw emotion of the thing was allowed to shine through. Hathaway and Redmayne's numbers were things I already mentioned, but there are multiple instances where the film pulls everything together so well it's hard not to cry/cheer. Spoiler alert: I bawled for like five minutes after the end of the film because it was such a perfectly realized version of the Finale. Everything about the stage version, with all the dead flooding the space and singing their song of hope, was so beautifully pulled together, and, because of the film's changes, having the Bishop sing the harmony with Valjean and Fantine instead of Eponine had an unbelievably strong resonance that the original stage version, great as it is, didn't quite match. And the grand sweep over the new barricade, with some choice close-ups of Eponine and Enjolras and Gavroche and all the dead... Christ. It's like Hooper and the editor poured all their efforts into making that one scene everything any stage fan of the show could want, and it worked.
Beyond that, there are so many subtle moments that at least showcased how well the actors knew and believed in their characters. For all Russell Crowe is being derided, I had no doubt about his acting ability as Javert, and the short scene where he pins his honor medal on Gavroche was a huge highlight for me. Its taciturn nature belies how hugely emotional and destructive this moment will ultimately be to him. One such that didn't work, and that I feel the need to point out because it's one of my favorite aspects of the stage show, is
Overall, I know I've kind of bounced back and forth on this, but this movie gets a solid B for me. The distinct visual language of this film isn't always suitable, but it works far more than it doesn't, and it creates its own version of an epic that still conveys the deep emotionality and distress of the setting. I really liked it, and will probably see it again, when I'm sure that I won't spend a ridiculous amount of time crying into my shirtsleeve.
***.5/*****
One other note: this is a weird personal thing, but I absolutely love that the people in this movie look "realistically filthy" instead of "stage filthy". Like Eponine, for instance. (Sorry, I really love her.) She doesn't look clean by any stretch of the imagination, but she doesn't have caked-on dirt all over her, or bruises or anything. She just has greasy hair, dirty clothes, and a smudge on her here and there. Same goes for Prostitute!Fantine, who looks realistically freezing to death.
Silver Linings Playbook (2012)
Originally posted on AD Forums on January 19, 2012. Spoilers are marked in bold.
To say that Silver Linings Playbook shouldn't work as a film is a wild understatement. It should collapse completely, weighted down by the wildly shifting tones, the continual melange of weirdly bitter comedy and repetitive conflict. The script seems like it's trying to be Little Miss Sunshine and The Tuskeegee Experiment at the same time, which is probably one of the worst ideas ever. Jennifer Lawrence is about ten years too young to be playing her role of a world-weary, mentally shattered widow; characters randomly flit in and out of the film without any real rhyme or reason, except to prop up Pat/give Pat things to react to.
...that being said, I enjoyed Silver Linings Playbook a lot, despite all of its logical problems. This film is the exact opposite of your Les Miserables - it is extremely well-constructed, filmed beautifully, and acted to precision. It's the plot and characterization, or the gaping holes in both, that are the real problems here. While watching the film, everything is conducted with such specificity that the film seems tight as can be. A big aid to that is the two leads, Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence, who turn in potentially career-defining performances. Cooper, who introduced himself to the world as "Asshole Boyfriend in Wedding Crashers", is like a completely different person here, someone who embodies all of the paradoxical elements of Pat, someone who professes to be living life to its most positive while often being crushed and quelled by small quirks of reality. His portrayal of a bipolar man is not showy, doesn't rely on plate-smashing, and, because it doesn't fall to cliche, is painfully real and relatable. I particularly liked that Cooper punctuated a lot of the more intense scenes in the film with unbridled sobs, something that, to me, made him even more realistically human and broken. And enough cannot be said about how Lawrence takes Tiffany and makes her somehow toxic and winning at the same time. In the hands of a lesser actress, Tiffany would've seemed as flat, transparent, and abusive as any number of Japanese harem series "female protagonists" (the worst of which being Suzumiya Haruhi from the series of the same name) who do little to deserve their lovers' adulation and leave their respective partners coming off as complete masochists. But Lawrence is able to take scenes like Tiffany's diner breakdown and paint them truthfully - this woman is broken beyond belief, and it is not the obvious displays of violence and selfishness that attract Pat to her. It's the quieter moments she has, her willingness to take back her wild actions and defend Pat after accusing him of harassing her needlessly.
That being said, there's a lot going on in the script that makes little sense. Every time Pat gets in trouble, it seems like the same scene is being repeated ad nauseam, with no bearing on the story and no propelling the narrative. (The big climax at the dance is set up after the last of these "Pat in trouble" sequences in a gigantic dump of exposition, instead of being naturally threaded through the movie proper.) Similarly, with Tiffany, SPOILERS her sudden transformation into a sobbing sociopath for ten minutes before the dance competition, and being cured by the Demands of the Plot just in time for them to dance, was ridiculous. At least give the audience some sort of catharsis there, some sort of resolution before the two of them dance. There's an interesting idea presented midway through the film - that Jacki Weaver's mother character helped Tiffany ambush Pat on his runs - that is never elaborated on further or even mentioned. And something that would be treated as a massive betrayal of trust in any other film (not any other romantic movie, any other film in general), the reveal that Tiffany forged the letter from Nikki... is somehow a spur for Pat, who's been strongly devoted to the memory of his past marriage the entire movie, to write a letter confessing his love for Tiffany? And the crutch for them getting together in the end? That last one is a personal pet peeve of mine in romantic films in general - the need for characters to be paired up at the end to ensure some sort of 'happy ending'. I honestly feel like the Pat/Tiffany relationship would be a horrific mess of a relationship, considering she has some sort of undiagnosed disorder and he's bipolar enough to not be able to listen to certain music without breaking; this is one of those films where it would've been to the script's advantage to leave things ambiguous. END SPOILERS
The whole movie's tone, additionally, is incredibly ambiguous, in a somewhat bizarre way. The two leads suffer from various mental disorders, and those are portrayed rather realistically and with dramatic weight. Ditto to Robert DeNiro's gambling addictios, which is treated with serious, life-changing weight. But the potential mental problems of Pat's friend Danny, and his constant arrests, are played for laughs, as are DeNiro's superstitions, that whole bit with Pat knocking over the magazine rack, and pieces of Tiffany's diner scene. The film can't decide whether it wants us to sympathize with its characters, or if their actions are so ridiculous that they need to be laughed at. The constant flux between humor and drama isn't handled exceptionally well. Neither is anything requiring exposition - SPOILER there is literally no reason for Tiffany to start explaining how her husband died, when she decides to open up about it. END SPOILER The dialogue itself is very realistic, and the actors handle it well, but the script's structure is all over the place.
Weirdly, I wasn't bothered by these things when I was watching the movie. Like I said, the movie has a lot of things going for it, things that make it easy to overlook how fucking weird the entire setup is. The usage of various different methods of telling the story - steadicam, hand-held, super close-ups in dialogue, Glee spinning camera moves - give the proceedings appropriate gravity, especially during the dance rehearsal sequences, filled with joie de vivre, and during Pat's futile search for his wedding video, which utilizes the claustrophobia and franticness of the handheld camera shots well. The acting is uniformly well done, as stated earlier (and on the big Jacki Weaver debate, I thought, though she didn't do much, she gave a nice sense of understated grace to her performance as the one person in the neighborhood with her shit together); there is no fault to be found in the technical details, especially the editing and cinematography, which are varied and rich. But after reflecting on the film, the illusion of greatness really fell apart in my head. It truly is held together by the strength of Cooper and Lawrence.
***/*****
To say that Silver Linings Playbook shouldn't work as a film is a wild understatement. It should collapse completely, weighted down by the wildly shifting tones, the continual melange of weirdly bitter comedy and repetitive conflict. The script seems like it's trying to be Little Miss Sunshine and The Tuskeegee Experiment at the same time, which is probably one of the worst ideas ever. Jennifer Lawrence is about ten years too young to be playing her role of a world-weary, mentally shattered widow; characters randomly flit in and out of the film without any real rhyme or reason, except to prop up Pat/give Pat things to react to.
...that being said, I enjoyed Silver Linings Playbook a lot, despite all of its logical problems. This film is the exact opposite of your Les Miserables - it is extremely well-constructed, filmed beautifully, and acted to precision. It's the plot and characterization, or the gaping holes in both, that are the real problems here. While watching the film, everything is conducted with such specificity that the film seems tight as can be. A big aid to that is the two leads, Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence, who turn in potentially career-defining performances. Cooper, who introduced himself to the world as "Asshole Boyfriend in Wedding Crashers", is like a completely different person here, someone who embodies all of the paradoxical elements of Pat, someone who professes to be living life to its most positive while often being crushed and quelled by small quirks of reality. His portrayal of a bipolar man is not showy, doesn't rely on plate-smashing, and, because it doesn't fall to cliche, is painfully real and relatable. I particularly liked that Cooper punctuated a lot of the more intense scenes in the film with unbridled sobs, something that, to me, made him even more realistically human and broken. And enough cannot be said about how Lawrence takes Tiffany and makes her somehow toxic and winning at the same time. In the hands of a lesser actress, Tiffany would've seemed as flat, transparent, and abusive as any number of Japanese harem series "female protagonists" (the worst of which being Suzumiya Haruhi from the series of the same name) who do little to deserve their lovers' adulation and leave their respective partners coming off as complete masochists. But Lawrence is able to take scenes like Tiffany's diner breakdown and paint them truthfully - this woman is broken beyond belief, and it is not the obvious displays of violence and selfishness that attract Pat to her. It's the quieter moments she has, her willingness to take back her wild actions and defend Pat after accusing him of harassing her needlessly.
That being said, there's a lot going on in the script that makes little sense. Every time Pat gets in trouble, it seems like the same scene is being repeated ad nauseam, with no bearing on the story and no propelling the narrative. (The big climax at the dance is set up after the last of these "Pat in trouble" sequences in a gigantic dump of exposition, instead of being naturally threaded through the movie proper.) Similarly, with Tiffany, SPOILERS her sudden transformation into a sobbing sociopath for ten minutes before the dance competition, and being cured by the Demands of the Plot just in time for them to dance, was ridiculous. At least give the audience some sort of catharsis there, some sort of resolution before the two of them dance. There's an interesting idea presented midway through the film - that Jacki Weaver's mother character helped Tiffany ambush Pat on his runs - that is never elaborated on further or even mentioned. And something that would be treated as a massive betrayal of trust in any other film (not any other romantic movie, any other film in general), the reveal that Tiffany forged the letter from Nikki... is somehow a spur for Pat, who's been strongly devoted to the memory of his past marriage the entire movie, to write a letter confessing his love for Tiffany? And the crutch for them getting together in the end? That last one is a personal pet peeve of mine in romantic films in general - the need for characters to be paired up at the end to ensure some sort of 'happy ending'. I honestly feel like the Pat/Tiffany relationship would be a horrific mess of a relationship, considering she has some sort of undiagnosed disorder and he's bipolar enough to not be able to listen to certain music without breaking; this is one of those films where it would've been to the script's advantage to leave things ambiguous. END SPOILERS
The whole movie's tone, additionally, is incredibly ambiguous, in a somewhat bizarre way. The two leads suffer from various mental disorders, and those are portrayed rather realistically and with dramatic weight. Ditto to Robert DeNiro's gambling addictios, which is treated with serious, life-changing weight. But the potential mental problems of Pat's friend Danny, and his constant arrests, are played for laughs, as are DeNiro's superstitions, that whole bit with Pat knocking over the magazine rack, and pieces of Tiffany's diner scene. The film can't decide whether it wants us to sympathize with its characters, or if their actions are so ridiculous that they need to be laughed at. The constant flux between humor and drama isn't handled exceptionally well. Neither is anything requiring exposition - SPOILER there is literally no reason for Tiffany to start explaining how her husband died, when she decides to open up about it. END SPOILER The dialogue itself is very realistic, and the actors handle it well, but the script's structure is all over the place.
Weirdly, I wasn't bothered by these things when I was watching the movie. Like I said, the movie has a lot of things going for it, things that make it easy to overlook how fucking weird the entire setup is. The usage of various different methods of telling the story - steadicam, hand-held, super close-ups in dialogue, Glee spinning camera moves - give the proceedings appropriate gravity, especially during the dance rehearsal sequences, filled with joie de vivre, and during Pat's futile search for his wedding video, which utilizes the claustrophobia and franticness of the handheld camera shots well. The acting is uniformly well done, as stated earlier (and on the big Jacki Weaver debate, I thought, though she didn't do much, she gave a nice sense of understated grace to her performance as the one person in the neighborhood with her shit together); there is no fault to be found in the technical details, especially the editing and cinematography, which are varied and rich. But after reflecting on the film, the illusion of greatness really fell apart in my head. It truly is held together by the strength of Cooper and Lawrence.
***/*****
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