The visuals are rich and inviting but a complicated three-part story makes an uneasy transition to screen for the well-loved book by Kate DiCamillo.
Sigourney Weaver narrates the story, beginning with the description of a hero we will not meet for a while, the first of several confusing narrative zig-zags. Before we can meet the title character we must follow a sea-faring rat named Roscuro (voice of Dustin Hoffman) who causes a lot of trouble when he falls into a bowl of soup. And this is not just any soup. This is the soup of the queen of Dor, a country where soup is the national passion. The most important day of the year is the day the new soup presented by the royal chef (voice of Kevin Kline), a true artiste with a muse made of vegetables. Curious Roscuro accidentally falls into the bowl of the queen and she is so shocked that she dies. The grieving king bans soup — and rats — and the kingdom becomes cold and sad, the skies perpetually overcast but never finding the release of rain.
Meanwhile a small mouse with very big ears named Despereaux (voice of Matthew Broderick) cannot seem to learn important mouse skills like cowering. He is brave, adventuresome, and chivalrous. He is a gentleman. And a lonely gap-toothed scullery maid envies the princess and begins to think maybe she should replace her.
The animation is truly magnificent, brilliantly imagined and gorgeously realized. There are a hundred brilliant details from the play of light in the dungeon to the dash across the mousetraps and an Archimboldo-inspired vegetable-man muse. The vistas are jewel-toned and glowing and the physical properties are wonderfully real and thrillingly vivid. The story, however, is less so, over-complicated and murky. What happens in front of those beautiful backgrounds is never quite as interesting as the setting.
Fiction is usually very linear, just because of the limits of time. The longest epic and the thickest novel don’t have enough scope to encompass extraneous detail. In real life people can’t find parking spots and fumble for correct change, but in movies everything usually moves with aerodynamic directness except for the elements of the particular muddle the characters are facing and we are attuned to expect that when a character says he has never done something that by the end of the film he will and that when a character gets a nosebleed by the end of the film he will probably be gone. Movie stories happen in the center of the frame, but real life happens around the edges. Move stories lay things out for the audience but real life is messy. Jonathan Demme’s brilliant new film is messy the way life is messy. Its power sneaks up on you. But by the time it is over, you will find that its characters and story have become real to you in a way that a crisper style of story-telling could not convey.
Kym (Anne Hathaway) is a substance abuser who has been in and out of rehab many times. As the movie opens, she is waiting to be picked up by her father, Paul (Bill Irwin), so she can go to the wedding of her sister Rachel (“Mad Men’s” Rosemarie DeWitt).
Filmed in an intimate, documentary style with a hand-held digital camera, the weekend unfolds like a home movie. The only music we hear is the music of the wedding, as musicians rehearse and perform throughout the weekend. When Paul jokingly tells one of the groom’s cousins, a young serviceman, to stop filming everything all the time it is possible to imagine that what we are watching is the footage he has been taking. Demme takes some audacious risks, letting scenes run on much longer than we are used to. It seems out of control, even self-indulgent until it becomes clear that Demme is utterly in charge and there is not a wasted frame.
Kym is defensive, hypersensitive, contrite, and very needy. She is a master of attention judo. Even in the midst of her sister’s wedding, she manages to turn the subject to herself. At the rehearsal dinner, after loving toast after toast, filled with affectionate jokes, Kym stands up and goes into a long, embarrassing speech about her need to make amends. She has impulsive sex with the best man. She displaces the maid of honor. And nothing is ever enough.
This is not another in the long series of awards-bait movies about substance abusers, going back to “The Lost Weekend” and “Come Fill the Cup,” through “28 Days” and “Clean and Sober.” Although at times it seems she is trying to grab our attention, too, Kym is not the focus of the story though at times she seems to be the manifestation of all of the rest of the family’s repressed feelings, while Paul keeps offering everyone food and pleading with them not to fight and the girls’ mother Abby (Debra Winger in a performance of controlled ferocity), superficially benign but always just out of reach. We see the scars before we hear the stories of the wounds as we meet the second spouses of Paul and Deborah and see how the family talks around certain areas.
But there is enormous generosity of spirit in this family. It is wonderfully diverse, with both Rachel and Paul married to African-Americans and a wide assortment of friends and family. The music that surrounds them is nourishing and inspiring. But there is also enormous pain as we only come to understand so gradually that we feel it before we think it. This masterful film is a quiet treasure, profoundly enriching.
A generation ago the technology first became widely available to allow families to document their lives with home movies and audio recordings. The use of these artifacts has transcended the “can you believe I used to look like that” and “remember that trip” family viewings and provided the materials for extraordinary films like Capturing the Friedmans, Tarnation, exploring the chasm between the sunny footage of birthdays and beach visits and the longing, failure, betrayal, and loss that was going on inside.
Film-maker Morgan Dews is the grand-son of a woman named Allis, who left behind a suitcase of home movies, ten hours of dictaphone letters sent to her husband on his annual four-month business trips to Australia, and tapes recorded for herself or for therapists consulted by the family. And there was a file of tape transcripts and notes labeled Must Read After My Death.
That became the title of a film assembled from these recordings, opening today in New York and Los Angeles and available everywhere via Gigantic Digital. The haunting images of Allis, her husband Charley, and their children, Chuck, Doug, Bruce, and Anne flicker on screen as we hear the recordings. The juxtaposition is artfully done and utterly heart-rending, the cheery footage of children playing as we hear the family fall apart.
At first, the words fit the “Leave it to Beaver” images of life in the tony Connecticut suburbs of the 1950’s and 60’s as Allis and the children make records tell Charley how much they miss him and he responds by telling them he loves them. But then, so matter-of-factly we wonder if we hear it correctly, Charley tells Allis about his involvement with other women and even asks for her help. And by the time the recording device has switched to reel-to-reel magnetic tape, the kids are beginning to reflect the anguish at home. Halfway between a time capsule and a Cheever story, we see the particularly of this family’s dysfunction and disintegration but it is the elements of its era make it so powerful. The suffocating restrictions on Allis as she tries to find a way to hold onto a sense of herself at a time when therapists were handing out tranquilizers and telling her to let her husband be the boss. In one tape we hear her decide that while she would like to work it would be better for her son for her to stay home — for another ten years.
Movies like “Revolutionary Road” and “American Beauty” cannot come close to the art and authenticity of this one in portraying the tragedy behind the manicured lawns and shiny appliances of the suburbs. The urgency of Allis’ message to us — not “please” but “must read” — is most honorably discharged by her grandson and the story she left behind lets us hear the voice that was almost silenced.
Sometimes “nice” can be very high praise, and that is the way I mean it when I say that the utterly snark-free “High School Musical 3: Senior Year” is as nice as it gets. With a gossamer-weight plot line that makes Archie Comics look like Dostoyevksy but all the heart, spirit, and sweetness and fun its fans are hoping for, this is a resoundingly satisfying conclusion to the record-breaking trilogy. I admit it — I smiled, I tapped my feet, and I even wiped away a tear.
One thing I especially loved about the movie is the way it avoided the usual misunderstandings and hurt feelings. Troy (Zac Efron) and Gabriella (Vanessa Hudgens), who met singing a karaoke duet in the original HSM are thoughtful, kind, and committed throughout this film. The overall tone of the movie is sugary, but they are much more authentic than most movie couples in the way they trust and support one another. It is such a relief to see them so solidly together as they try to address their problems. There is no silliness about their relationship, which is supported by everyone around them. That means that when they are not singing or worrying there is not much for them to do but smile their dazzling smiles at each other, but the singing and dancing is great, the smiles are indeed dazzling, and they do have one breathtakingly romantic moment that is surprisingly touching because it is utterly pure and simple and lovely.
Like all high school seniors, Gabriella and Troy feel that everything is moving too fast. They are excited about college but wish they could hold on to everything they have loved at East High. They are trying to figure out how to understand what is right for them, which may not be what their parents want. And they have counted the miles between the schools they are planning to attend and are not looking forward to being so far away from each other. Everyone is just too busy and distracted to be in another musical show this year but somehow Gabriella once again brings them all together for what they know will be their last chance.
But Mean Girl Sharpay (Ashley Tisdale vamping like a cross between Paris Hilton, Christina Aguilera, and Cruella deVil) wants to be the star of the show. With her twin brother Ryan (Lucas Grabeel), the show choreographer, she dreams of having it all in a sensational dance number in the school cafeteria that is a throwback to the all-out show-stoppers of the classic MGM musicals. Sharpay has a car with a “Fabulous” license plate, a personal assistant with a British accent, some truly impressive hair, a double locker with a padded interior and a make-up mirror, and an endless series of tiny miniskirts. Her entrance is sensational — as all of the kids are in bright red in tribute to the championship basketball team, she comes in the door in flaming hot pink.
The musical numbers are sheer delight, especially Efron’s athletic romp in a junkyard with pal Chad (Corbin Bleu) and his Fred Astaire-inspired, literally off-the-wall solo in the school late at night. Troy and Gabriella just might bring back the waltz with their lovely pas de deux in the school’s rooftop garden. They might bring back the idea of sweet, tender romance where one special kiss means everything, too.
One of my earliest memories is the day I first discovered Jim Henson’s “Labyrinth” on VHS. I was no more than 5 or 6. It was the first film I fell in love with. I must’ve watched it nearly every day after school for months.
Not long after, I was introduced to films like: “Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory,” “The Never Ending Story,” “The Goonies,” “Pee Wee’s Big Adventure,” etc. Within the following 5 or 6 years, my love for movies grew stronger and matured with such defining films as: “The Shawshank Redemption,” “Pulp Fiction” (which I’m proud to admit I snuck into when I was 11), “Schindler’s List,” and “Forrest Gump.”
Storytelling, creative writing, and concocting elaborate skits using friends as actors were vital hobbies of mine long before I hit puberty. I knew I wanted to be a filmmaker before I was 12 (the age I began writing screenplays).
To answer the question, I am a filmmaker to inspire and entertain others.
Were there particular films or directors or screenwriters who influenced you?
In addition to the films above, as far as filmmakers go: Kubrick, Paul Thomas Anderson, Spielberg, Truffaut, and Alexander Payne…
How did the idea for this story begin?
NOTE: I can’t fully answer this question without giving away spoilers.
However, I will admit that I was diagnosed with ADD at a young age, and in order to be properly treated for such a condition I had to visit handfuls of diverse psychiatrists and psychologists for a large part of my life. The concept of a family journeying to see a shrink on a Saturday to mend their own issues has always been a topic I wanted to explore cinematically. I believe every human being can relate on some level.
You gave some very challenging roles to young actors — how did you work with them so that they did not indicate or give away too much too soon?
My New York-based casting director, Judy Henderson, has had a lot of luck casting children in the past. I sought her out based on her past work on such indie films as “L.I.E.” and “Twelve and Holding.” Judy came through again, finding incredible newcomers for “Lifelines.”
Each actor, Robbie Sublett (Michael Bernstein), Dreama Walker (Meghan Bernstein), and Jacob Kogan (Spencer Bernstein), understood the dynamics of their character from their first audition. I truly lucked out. We really didn’t even rehearse that much! When they had questions, we discussed the answers. When they weren’t in character or did something that needed improved (which was infrequent), I let them know and the problem was solved almost instantly. All three of them are already extremely successful, and deservingly so. Again, I truly lucked out.
Jane Adams is one of my favorite actresses. How did you come to work with her and what was it about this role that attracted her?
Jane was my first choice for Nancy Bernstein – I’ve always been a fan of hers as well. My Los Angeles-based casting director, Lindsay Chag, agreed that Jane was perfect for the role. Intuitively, I knew she would connect with the character. And she did. You would have to ask her what attracted her to the role for an authentic answer…
What do you most want people to take from this movie?
Nobody is perfect. And if anybody thinks they are, they’re most imperfect. I’d love people to watch this movie and subliminally start accepting their own family members and friends for precisely who they are, putting all inherent shortcomings aside. But ultimately, I made this movie for people to know they aren’t alone in the world. If you have an open mind, somebody will always be there to hear you out in times of need.
What are you doing next?
A feel-great father/son comedy titled: “In the Meantime.” It puts an insightful new spin on the coming age subgenre as well as road trips, and the definition of love & lust… We will be filming sometime this summer. Currently we’re making offers, getting close to attaching a star for the lead role. The rest of the principal cast is pretty much set. A bunch of the actors are already listed on IMDB and the rest will be added within the upcoming months.
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, exploring the chasm between the sunny footage of birthdays and beach visits and the longing, failure, betrayal, and loss that was going on inside.
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