City Island

There’s this island in the Hudson. It’s called City Island, and it’s technically part of the Bronx, but it seems like a whole other world from the rest of that borough. It’s bucolic, with fishermen and working class folk living alongside newcomers who must have paid in the millions for the waterfront homes they’ve purchased there.

There’s a family on this island, the Rizzos. The parents yell at the kids and at one another, everybody smokes in secret (thinking everyone else has quit), and they seem to have settled into a comfortably dysfunctional groove. Andy Garcia, the father in the tableau, has a secret: the illegitimate son he abandoned long ago. Now, the grown-up son is in trouble. Garcia brings him home. Revelations impend.

The illegitimate son serves two purposes in this film: he provides dramatic tension (For how long can Garcia hide his past?) and dramatic complication (Will the son, unaware of his bloodline, sleep with his stepmother or half sister or both?). These keep us interested while everyone else in the family finds themselves and their collective identity. Not to say that finding oneself and one’s collective identity is inherently boring, but there’s nothing like a bomb under the table to keep those not directly involved in the finding interested in the proceedings.

And how do the proceedings go? Well, they struck me as quite writerly. Everyone harbors a dramatic secret. There’s a quirky neighbor. Nobody stutters or says the wrong thing – in fact, they all seem to speak in modulated tones of the writer’s voice.

That’s not to say this is a bad film. I liked this family and I cared about how they’d (inevitably) work things out. Garcia’s terrific, Julianna Margulies (as the Mater) provides a carefully tuned performance, and Emily Mortimer (as one of many catalysts) is every bit as good you’d expect. But they never felt quite real, going through their crises on their charming little island. Nevertheless, I wish them well. Warts and all, they’re a lovely family.

The Girl Who Played with Fire

I’m having trouble with The Girl Who Played with Fire.  I liked the two leads, I enjoyed seeing more of Sweden, a country I’ve only passed through on my way to other places, and I found the villain sufficiently monstrous.  But I’m still not entirely sure what happened.   I don’t understand how the ball got rolling.  I mean, one minute, Noomi Rapace’s character is living in the sun, happy as can be.  The next, she’s back in cold, cold Stockholm.  Why did she return, other than a dramatic imperative that a popular character must return to the site of its home market?  And the villains, how do they know each other, really? 

Either the source material’s weak or this film got butchered for a US release.  Either way, you’re going to have to work through a bit of muddle so you can enjoy the sleuths, who are well drawn, the settings, which are lovely, and the mystery itself.  Perhaps you can explain it to me.

Shinjuku Incident

In Shinjuku Incident, Jackie Chan plays an illegal immigrant to Japan. He (literally) washes ashore with no papers, no money, no chances. He steals shoes. He hides from the police. Eventually, he links up with other illegals and begins to form a life. But it’s hard, doing nasty and dirty work for wages far below minimum. Perhaps there’s an easier way – those gangsters seem pretty well fed. Chan takes a few tentative steps into crime, just to get by. Turns out, the man has courage and leadership skills. And we can see the arc from there.

We’ve seen movies like this before. Shinjuku Incident’s unique contribution is its Tokyo setting, its subculture (formerly rural Chinese illegal immigrants), and its star. This isn’t a stunt movie – Chan is more likely to pick up a pipe and start flailing than kick anyone in the face. Rather, it’s a bullet for Chan’s resume as a serious actor. Elastic and amazing as the man may be, that middle is getting thicker and those joints are getting creakier – there’s just no way around it. Fortunately, the man doesn’t embarrass himself. He uses his likeable persona to keep us on his side as his dealing grow increasingly shady, and he gives us character’s moral evolution in natural, lifelike steps.

Yes, he’s about ten years too old for the part as it’s written (or, perhaps, for the women cast as his love interests), but what’s a little vanity in a major film star? He works in the role, and the film works because of him, and Shinjuku Incident shines a light on a whole new subculture. Not bad.

Bardelys the Magnificent

Bardelys the Magnificent, a silent from 1926, features good stunts, one of the most wonderfully sneering villains I’ve ever seen put to film, and a lead actress whose technique appears so modern that she could roll into a contemporary romantic comedy without missing a beat.

John Gilbert plays Bardelys, a Don Juan type of character in pre-revolutionary France.  The ladies love him, the men don’t mind him because he’s such a nice guy, and even the King thinks he’s got it all going on.  But there’s trouble in Paris. The villainous Chatellerault (Roy D’Arcy) has returned after being spurned by the fair Roxalanne de Lavedan (Eleanor Boardman).  Chatellerault, shamed by his failure, challenges Bardelys to a bet: if Bardelys can marry Roxalanne in two months, he’ll cede all his properties to the famed paramour.  If not, Bardelys, loses everything.  Bardelys takes the challenge, and the laws of drama take over from there.

So, what makes Bardelys the Magnificent worth your time?  Not Gilbert, who’s fine and all, but lacks the charisma of a Douglas Fairbanks or a Rudolph Valentino.  I mean, yeah, he can fence with the best of them and seems a decent fellow, but I sensed that the film assumed he’d be an audience favorite while he struck me as a second rater.  The stunt work, while not spectacular, is quite nice.  The fencing matches look good, the acrobatic bits look natural, and the action set-pieces give the impression of carefully designed and executed stunts.  If that’s your thing (and it is mine), you’ll surely enjoy it.  The villain, well, now we’re getting into it.  Roy D’Arcy blew me away.  This guy mastered the moustache twirl, the disdainful sneer, the deep insecurity covered by haughtiness and volatility.  And hey, he can even do a pretty good pratfall when asked.  D’Arcy’s Chatellerault ranks right up there with Hans Gruber in the pantheon of great screen villains.  But you wanna see something that’ll really blow you away?  Check out Eleanor Boardman as Roxallane.  Her performance stands out not just from this film, but from silent film in general, because she’s doing something completely different.  While nearly all silent film acting seems aimed at the rafters, with big gestures and expressions to ensure everyone’s comprehension, this actress carries and expresses herself naturally.  When she shrugs, when she smiles, when she doubletakes, she looks like a real person and not a Silent Era Actress.  It surprised me, it refreshed me, and it delighted me.  I thought it was about the coolest thing ever.

So if you like silents, check out Bardelys.  You’ll predict the story and you may not warm to the lead, but I guarantee that you’ll delight in the villain and love Eleanor Boardman.  This is a good time at the movies.