the christophers

 

My review of The Christophers, starring Ian McKellen and Michaela Coel, here at Film-Forward.

presence

In this current moment, there is a relatability to Steven Soderbergh's Presence, a moody, domestic drama ghost story with a remarkably effective POV gimmick, cannily marketed as a horror picture by Neon (it originally premiered at Sundance in 2024, in what feels like an eternity ago). Some may feel like the ghost in this tale, bobbing around unseen in limited spaces, watching horrible world events unfold that are difficult and nearly impossible to undo or fix. The family at its center is Rebecca (Lucy Liu) and Chris (Chris Sullivan) and their teen children, Chloe (Callina Liang) and Tyler (Eddy Maday), move into a handsome two-story. The house is quiet, with lovely, modest rooms of hardwood floors and colorfully painted walls, an old mirror over the living room fireplace, and leafy, green views, except for an almost unsettlingly stream of traffic outside their windows (it was filmed in Cranford, New Jersey). The family's relationships are frayed. Chloe recently lost a friend, Tyler is an athlete, trying to stay popular in school, and Rebecca and Chris may have been involved in something nefarious in their jobs (smartly, this remains vague—a stray plot thread that doesn't need to over explained, nor neatly wrapped up as a lesser film would). The tensions between everyone, though not nearly as powerfully portrayed, is reminiscent of Robert Redford's Ordinary People (I felt this most in a scene when Rebecca and Tyler are bonding over Tyler's uncouth behavior at school, while Chris and Chloe are on the outs, reminding me of a quick flashback scene between Buck and Mary Tyler Moore's Beth).

The skillful cinematography by Soderbergh (aka Peter Andrews) takes on the perspective of an unnamed, undefined spirit whose cinematic sweeps through the house are evocative and near-seamlessly presented. I thought of the ghost child who haunts over Jonathan Demme's Rachel Getting Married, who sometimes seems to be much of that film's rocky and fragile point-of-view. Soderbergh, in his remarkably varied and fascinating ouvre, continues to play with form, technology and perspective while relaying a sense of thorny, heightened realism. Zach Ryan's score is somewhat florid, but very beautiful, almost Jerry Goldsmith-esque, adding both melancholy and warmth to the movie and the dream-state feel of the camerawork; many contemporary films of this ilk would have probably opted for a colder, starker tone with ambient, atonal music or no score at all. The script by David Koepp—a screenwriter with a familiar, cozily 1990s sensibility (a shorter version could have easily been one of those supernatural slices in The Sixth Sense)—has its moments of sharp characterizations and insights, though the actors seem to be imbuing the material, especially Sullivan, more thoroughly. Packing in quite a bit in its airy 85-minute runtime, the film swerves into jagged, crackerjack thriller territory in the final act, and yet still, the story (and its sudden, emotional coda) are so involving, that I appreciated it overall for its empathy, entertainment value and risk. ***

-Jeffery Berg

let them all talk

After the disappointing, ineffectual The Laundromat, I wasn't sure what to expect from another Soderbergh / Streep collaboration, but consider me pleasantly surprised by the layered, acerbic, and bittersweet Let Them All Talk. In the film, a novelist Alice (Meryl Streep) travels to England on a cruise to accept the prestigious / niche "Footling Prize" with her nephew Tyler (Lucas Hedges), two distant old college friends, Roberta (Candice Bergen) and Susan (Dianne Wiest) in tow. Meanwhile Alice's agent Karen (Gemma Chan) is secretly aboard to try to coax information from Tyler in hopes of Alice writing a follow-up to her Pulitzer-winning novel. If this "secret agent" side plot seems tenuous, it is--dipping into fairly fluffy caper comedy stuff but still enjoyable nevertheless with its skilled young actors at the helm. I viewed this film on HBO Max, a weird experience, as I can presently only access it on my phone, that probably doesn't do the movie much justice. Hopefully I can appreciate it in the theater someday. It is an extremely pleasing-looking picture: a buttery yellow-lensed (Soderbergh as Peter Andrews) Queen Mary 2 (as a non-cruisegoer, are cruises as lovely-looking and uncrowded-feeling as this one?) that's a luxurious watch even as it’s fraught with the unrequited on all fronts.

The film focuses upon language—evident in Alice’s portentously vague musings on “words.” What’s said and unsaid is scarred, awkward and tense, even with alcohol flowing. Between the relationships among these former friends who haven’t seen each other in over thirty years, Roberta doesn't even recognize "Al" anymore--not because of the way she looks, but the way she speaks. Deborah Eisenberg’s script, a brilliant debut screenplay, understands Alice’s universe well. Even if the moments of the plot can be on the flimsy side, perhaps purposefully flimsy (“plot-driven” novels of the famous thriller writer aboard the ship are pitched in a vein of light jabbing), the dialogue is sharply-realized and rhythmic. If there are notes of improvisation among the pro-players and their wry director, I wasn’t aware or distracted by it, instead, I felt the emotional calibrations of the interactions. I was taken aback to the sort of halting punchline rhythms of Lawrence Kasdan & Barbara Benedek’s The Big Chill. The dialogue is sparkly but not really overly distracting, inauthentically speedy nor talky—the silences are impactful as the barbed words. Soderbergh’s films, as absorbing and meandering as they can be, often tend to run their course and get baggy in their final acts, with unsatisfying endings. This movie, however, takes a nervy swerve that ends up changing the tone of a previous scene and also the characters’ previous actions in insightful, fascinating ways.

Besides the sharp screenplay, as usual, Steven Soderbergh's film delivers in the tech departments. Thomas Newman’s jazzy score is a very atypical Newman score (no twinkling pianos or chilly, sly American Beauty instrumentations or chord structures here). It may not be the best music to listen to on its own, but it’s essential to the film itself—a warm, frothy soundtrack that helps carry the mood and tone of the picture along. Between this, Unsane (which he composed under pseudonym) and Side Effects, Soderbergh and Newman have been a great team in recent years, with Soderbergh encouraging Newman's talents out of his usual output.

Another praiseworthy element on display are the costumes by Ellen Mirojnick. Contemporary work like this, including her dynamic effort on Soderbergh’s Logan Lucky, rarely get as many accolades as fantasy or period pieces, but Mirojnick's work shines again, offering comic touches while enriching characterization. There’s something bold and quietly desperate about Roberta’s animal print ensemble as she goes to the “gala” to meet a match or her penchant for fringy denim shirts. The costumes illuminate the separateness of the trio, often epitomizing each woman’s far-reaching geographical location (Seattle, NYC upper-class, and Dallas).

This is a fine ensemble to watch, especially the women in the film (Streep, Bergen, Wiest, and Chan). I was struck particularly by Candice Bergen. Roberta is out of a failed marriage. She blames it on Alice's famous novel which may have cribbed details from Roberta's life. Now Roberta is single and ready to mingle, hopefully with a Queen Mary 2 passenger with deep pockets. Through Bergen's complex turn, this isn't a pitiful character, it's a fascinating one. I, perhaps very unjustly, never thought of Bergen as a compelling thespian. This performance, however, is brassy, but also extremely sophisticated and understated. She has an uneasy, swaying gait and disposition. Her Texas twang comes and goes—perhaps by accident—or perhaps purposefully, when her character either wants to turn up the charm or the savagery. Bergen's comic timing, pained facial expressions, quick raised eyebrow, all kill from her beginning scene where she is dealing with an annoying, disgruntled character in the low-grade Victoria Secret knockoff store she works at. It is a high wire act to steal scenes from someone as ostentatious as Meryl. Viola Davis managed it in Doubt. Bergen does it for me here—the character of Roberta became real to me, despite the star power of the performer. Her presence, along with Wiest and Streep, all add to the poignancy of the movie: these actors in their later years, giving us some their best work. ***

-Jeffery Berg

unsane

Steven Soderbergh's iPhone 7-shot mini opus mental ward-set thriller persistently toys with audience's perceptions of what is real and what is imagined in an era where much of our visual lives are now drawn to the screen of a phone. Sawyer Valentini (played by The Crown's Claire Foy, who shows a shade of fiery intensity many of us haven't seen yet) has a bland office job and has seemingly unwillingly committed herself to the unsettling Pennsylvania hospital. She desperately wants out and is thwarted by bureaucracy and unconcerned employees and by the taunting of some of her fellow patients. Furthermore a mystery emerges whether or not one of the workers there is a man who previously stalked her.

A filmmaker who has oscillated between sublime pieces and clunkers, Soderbergh remains one of my favorite directors. Even his less successful works have an inner charm and a textured feel. Last year's underrated shaggy summer heist Logan Lucky boasted excellent technicals, jokey characters and situations bolstered by an emotionally sincere backbone. Unsane is less satisfactory but still intriguing and enjoyable cinema. Although the grimy iPhone photography lends itself to a simultaneous feel of gimmickry and impressiveness, it's not the only stunt here.  The movie plays deadly serious but is also imbued with tongue-in-cheek humor and references galore (from 70s grit like Cuckoo's Nest to moody slasher pics like Halloween II to schlock adult thrillers of the early 90s). Matt Damon explaining a litany of how-to's of dealing with a stalker is unabashed Soderbergh-corn. Amy Irving, who delivered a memorable turn as Sue Snell in Brian DePalma's Carrie, serves up a WASP-y presence here with acting tics that feel of another time. Juno Temple, who shined in Woody Allen's Wonder Wheel, does her best with an over-the-top cardboard role (something we see a lot in the cackling, twitchy patients of prison and Snake Pit flicks and TV shows). The cell phone also becomes a literal lifeline as one of the patients (played with low-key ease by Jay Pharoah) sneaks his to Sawyer to use. Thomas Newman's score of click-clacks, buzzing distortion, and a descending piano drone theme, adds to the Sawyer's desperation and is some of his most interesting work I've heard in a while. For those--like some of my groaning audience companions--who may not be thinking of the film in context of Soderbergh's filmography, may find Unsane understandably unappealing but it's rich for those like me who enjoys adult thrillers and Soderbergh's offbeat eye. ***

-Jeffery Berg

criterions

Great lineup of Criterion DVD releases in February 2014 including one of my favorite movies of all time, Steven Soderbergh's beautiful coming-of-age King of the Hill (1993) which until now, has eluded a DVD release in the states.

Also featured, the popular Blue is the Warmest Color, Hitchcock's Foreign Correspondent, and Roman Polanski's Tess.

soderbergh as iconoclast, non-conformist: a guest post by dan braun

Iconoclast. Non-conformist. Dares to be different. From the time his fiery roundelay sex, lies and videotape took the Sundance Film Festival by storm in January of 1989 (and cast a broad light on the world of independent cinema), Steven Soderbergh has defied any and all concepts of what a filmmaker is ‘supposed’ to be.

Working in the studio system (the Oceans films; Out of Sight and Solaris – both discussed in my previous post; Erin Brockovich; Traffic). Experimenting with unconventional methods of storytelling (Che; Full Frontal; Bubble; Schizopolis). Taking on the responsibilities of cinematographer, producer and editor. Soderbergh has embodied the definition of restless artist and professional, harboring a deep love of film and a desire to expand and reshape its borders and its possibilities.

Some of his most notable works:

sex, lies and videotape (1989): The aforementioned cinematic game-changer, which put not only Soderbergh on the map, but also the Sundance Film Festival, several actors and actresses (Andie MacDowell, Peter Gallagher, James Spader and Laura San Giacomo) and two then-nascent film distributors, Harvey and Bob Weinstein, who via Miramax, won a heated bidding war for domestic theatrical distribution rights. As for the film’s plot, MacDowell plays Ann, a woman living in Baton Rouge and caught in a miserable, repressed marriage with John (Gallagher). When an old college friend of John’s, Graham (Spader), appears, everyone’s lives are soon irrevocably changed.

The Limey (1999): Soderbergh’s initial pairing with screenwriter Lem Dobbs and featuring one of Terrence Stamp’s finest performances. With a focused and alternately subtle and blunt vengefulness, Stamp stars as Wilson, an Englishman and ex-con who, fresh out of prison, heads to L.A., determined to strike back against the man whom he believes to be responsible for his daughter’s death.

Erin Brockovich (2000) and Traffic (2000): A one-two array – the first a highly entertaining, populist entertainment, based on a true story, with Julia Roberts in her Oscar-winning title role as a feisty, take-no-prisoners, unemployed single mother who leads a civil action against a major public utility company accused of poisoning a community’s water supply; the second, a powerful indictment of the failed war on drugs, told from the perspectives of an enforcer (Benicio del Toro), a politician (Michael Douglas), a trafficker (Steven Bauer) and a user (Erika Christensen).

Che (2008): Mostly following a release pattern similar to the theatrical roadshows of the 1960s and ‘70s (limited, patterned engagements, glossy program handouts, and intermissions during each screening), Soderbergh’s epic chronicled in two parts (The Argentine and Guerilla) the story of Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara, telling of his success in helping to lead the Cuban Revolution of the 1950s, and the difficulties he and his compatriots faced several years later during the Bolivian Insurgency.

Haywire (2012): Turning the action genre swiftly on its heels with several forceful upraised clouts of shoe leather, rapid fist swings and bullets fired from a wide array of guns and varied artillery, Soderbergh and Dobbs team again for this crisp, immersive story of a covert government operative (Gina Carano, a former MMA fighter) who, after being double-crossed, has to rely upon all of her skills and abilities to escape from an international manhunt, protect her family and exact revenge upon her betrayers.