The Book Thief

The Book Thief is not the Hitler Youth movie I was hoping for.

I never would have thought we actually needed a Hitler Youth movie, or for that matter any other movie about kids during the Holocaust-- World War II has been depicted onscreen so many times in the last decade that we at least need a moratorium, if not an outright command to move on to other wars. But The Book Thief, based on the popular novel by Markus Zusak, manages to come across a new angle on this war, exploring the friendship between two young children who wear Swastika armbands and sing songs to Hitler not because they are evil or brainwashed, but because they live in a small German town and this is as common and ordinary as joining the Boy Scouts.

That might be enough story for a single sweet, war-torn coming of age story, but The Book Thief feels compelled cram in at least half a dozen other tropes, including the Jew hiding from the Nazis, the orphan girl warming to her new parents, the mysterious older lady benefactor helping our plucky heroine, the tentative pre-adolescent romance, and of course, the saga of survival amid air raid sirens and war. The fact that there's also occasional voiceover from the Grim Reaper may sound like a joke, but I assure you, it's in there too. A rambling, howlingly sentimental story that seems to be grabbing for awards at every turn, The Book Thief dares to burrow deep inside the complex world of German civilians during World War II and come away with nothing except mawkish, soft-focus nonsense.

Sophie Nelisse, a French-Canadian up and comer, is all wide-eyed, open-mouthed wonder as Liesel, the girl orphaned when her mother is arrested for being a Communist; her younger brother, for unknown reasons, dies while en route to their adoptive parents, so Liesel arrives alone to live with stern Rosa (Emily Watson) and twinkle-eyed Hans (Geoffrey Rush) in their small German village. Shy and closed-off at first, Liesel eventually learns to read with Hans's encouragement, strikes up a friendship with cutie neighbor Rudy (Nico Liersch), and develops an even deeper bond with a Jewish refugee (Ben Schentzer) hiding out in the basement. The book thieving comes in much later, when the mayor's wife (Kirsten Block) notices Liesel snatch a copy of The Invisible Man off a pile of tomes the Nazis have opted to burn; instead of turning Liesel in, the woman invites the girl into her expansive library for afternoon reading sessions.

Director Brian Percival, a veteran of Downton Abbey, does a nice job at first of depicting the slow creep of National Socialism into Liesel's life. The nationalistic songs she sings with her school chorus, the armband on her school uniform and the Nazi flag kept by law in the family basement eventually lead to local men conscripted into service, nights in an air raid shelter and a terror of refugee Max being found out. But the further The Book Thief gets into the war the less nuance and revelations it contains, until the cobblestoned streets and jackbooted soldiers start to look like every single other World War II movie. The occasional return of the Grim Reaper's voice reminds you that this, like so many other World War II movies, won't end with tragedy, but you still may not be prepared for the laughable melodrama that closes this story out.

I can imagine curling up with and enjoying the book version of The Book Thief, where there's time to get into the coming-of-age rhythms and dig into the constant conflict of being a decent person in a country that's on the wrong side of a war. But the glossy, completely surface-level movie version of The Book Thief feels committed to scrubbing all that nuance out. From the presence of Rush and Watson to the generically sentimental score from John Williams, it's a soulless chimera of every Oscar-bait trope, cobbled from a story that actually deserved better.

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About Time

Coming from the creator of Love Actually, Four Weddings and a Funeral and Notting Hill, you might understandably expect About Time to be a romantic comedy. After all, it is fronted by Rachel McAdams and Anna Karenina's Domhnall Gleeson. Don't be fooled. This is not a movie about romance. It's about a far more encompassing idea of love, embracing lovers, friends, and family in a way that makes About Time a rich and wonderful narrative.

If you could relive moments of your life until you get them just as you want, what would you do? "For me, it was always going to be all about love," says young Tim (Gleeson), the eager but na?ve romantic at the center of Curtis's latest dramedy. On his 21st birthday, Tim's loving father (the deeply charming Bill Nighy) tells him of the incredible inheritance to which he is now entitled. It's not money, but rather the Y-chromosome imprinted ability to travel back within his own lifetime. His father warns him this gift should be used as a tool to help him get what he really wants in life. And for the first half of the film, Tim really wants a girlfriend.

He uses his powers to get a second chance at a first kiss or make a better introduction to a girl he thinks might be the one (McAdams), and to plan a marriage proposal. Gleeson and McAdams are adorable as a couple in love, but just as this plotline begins to run thin, Curtis shifts focus from this story of romance to a more mature themes that involve Tim's relationship with his screw-up little sister (Lydia Wilson) and his father, who sadly not even time travel can make immortal.

Science-fiction fans may gnash their teeth over the inconsistencies in Curtis's brand of time travel, as clarity and consistency are sacrificed in favor of dramatic pacing. Here, time travel is used as a tool to discuss the choices we make to do what's best for us or what's best for our loved ones, which sometimes means giving up on living in the past. Curtis's exploration of this theme is emotionally profound, underlined by a pitch perfect soundtrack that includes songs from Nick Cave, Ben Folds, and Jimmy Fontana-- guaranteed to draw tears as he presents a pocket of possibility for time travel that is beautiful and bittersweet. Yet Curtis's ear for snappy dialogue gives About Time an effervescence, while the cast imbues it with a rich warmth.

Gleeson is darling as our lanky hero, handling the awkward romantic introductions as well as the father-son plotline with a vibrant humor. Outstanding support is given by Lindsay Duncan as Tim's brusque mother, Lydia Wilson as his wild child sister, Richard Cordery as the lovably befuddled Uncle Desmond, and Tom Hollander as Tim's ever-furious playwright friend Harry. But it's Nighy who grounds the movie with his role as the time-traveling bookworm who is an easy-going patriarch to this clan. His performance seems so effortless that his and Tim's relationship feels authentically lived-in, making the film's final act all the more powerful.

Sadly McAdams is a weak spot. She's cute and affable as Mary, but she seems miscast, especially with the costuming department desperately playing down McAdams's natural beauty, saddling her with a bad haircut and clunky matronly clothes. And her charm, while welcome, is wasted on a character that is more a plot necessity than a person. There's no conflict or complexity to her character. She's just a tool to teach us about Tim. Mary doesn't care about the details of her wedding to Tim. He can pick the when, where and who of it all. She'll just show up in an unconventional dress and look glorious and be a perfect symbol of marital happiness achieved.

Aside from this underwritten character and bizarre casting choice, Curtis has made a fantastic and inventive modern-day fable. Tim's extraordinary ability sets him apart from the rest of the world, giving him a chance to relive any day of his life again. Yet in doing that he discovers he really isn't that different from the rest of us. His choices are just like ours, deciding to get caught up in what has passed, or to live for today and accept that life goes on. Curtis creates this narrative with a sensational sense of joy and a ribbon of tragedy that makes the former all the sweeter. Beyond being a movie that will make you laugh and cry, About Time is that rare cinematic treat that can make you better appreciate life itself.?

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Homefront

When I first heard about Homefront I was giddy. Jason Statham versus James Franco in a movie written by Sylvester Stallone about a man defending his home against a malicious meth dealer? It seemed a recipe for fantastically over the top action and machismo, with plenty of opportunity for these charismatic stars to chew scenery in a spectacular showdown. Basically I expected the shades of Statham from Crank and Franco from Spring Breakers. What I got was a dour crime drama that takes itself very seriously, and sadly demands its stars do the same.

Statham fronts Homefront as Phil Broker, an undercover DEA agent, widower and single father who is trying to start a new life in Rayville, Louisiana, a place that boasts a meth-making ring and a proud tradition of family feuds. Poor Broker is just trying to keep his head down in the wake of a drug bust gone very bad. But it turns out teaching your ten-year-old to defend herself by hurling bullies into the dirt is not the best idea. In no time, Broker and his daughter Maddy (Izabela Vidovic) have sparked the slathering fury of Cassie (a scrawny but fearsome Kate Bosworth), sister to local kingpin Gator (Franco). As payback, Gator begins harassing father and daughter. But when he uncovers Broker's DEA past, Gator concocts a grander, more convoluted plan for bloody revenge, calling in the drug dealing crew Broker burned before.

I realized pretty quickly my mistake in assuming Homefront would be a willfully bonkers action movie. This was no winking Expendables with one-liners and meta humor. The closest we ever come to a signature line is "whatever you're thinking, rethink it." Its action scenes offer graphic violence, but nothing in the way of witty repartee or fun mayhem. I could have accepted these sterner intentions if Homefront delivered as a compelling action drama. But it absolutely does not.

For one thing, I couldn't call it "action-packed," more action bookended. There's the opening sequence with graphic violence, gunfights and car chases, and the carnage-strewn climax, but little action in between. I counted just three action scenes for the middle hour of the movie. Two of these are brief scuffles Broker has with rednecks who hardly offer a fight, and the third the aforementioned takedown of a schoolyard bully by little Maddy. Worse yet, the big bookending action sequences are incoherently shot with lacking attention paid to establishing geography, making for downright confusing construction.

Even as a drama Homefront falls painfully flat. Statham is charming enough as a single dad, but a lackluster subplot about his romancing Maddy's teacher feels tacked on and unnecessary. Plus, Broker is unbelievably bad at being a DEA agent, hiding classified papers about his cases in boxes lying around his unlocked home, squabbling with his kid instead of fleeing the house when he knows killers are on the way, and inviting a friendly bystander into the inevitable crossfire. But maybe that is fitting as Gator is also wildly inept in his role as antagonist.

While Franco tries his best to glower and wear a grungy goatee like a backwoods thug, he comes off as little more than a movie star slumming it. (The perfect white teeth every meth addict in the movie brandishes is laughable in its own right.) But Stallone's lame script undercuts even these meager efforts at menace by giving Gator ridiculous revenge plans like decapitating one of Maddy's stuffed animals and abducting her pet kitten. These are the tactics of teenage bullies at best, and can hardly be taken seriously from a movie's key villain. All this leads to a final showdown that is a total letdown. It's just Broker beating up a dopey drug dealer, far from entertaining or satisfying.

Even Winona Ryder is a supporting turn as Gator's "meth skank" girlfriend can't elevate this subpar material. Like Statham and Franco, she just feels miscast in this swampy redneck-riddled setting. But cheers to Bosworth. She's petite and rangy, yet she channels an incredible energy into her performance that radiates danger as she spits threats and her arms tremble like live wires of rage. Wild and desperate, she is as close to interesting as this movie gets, but regrettably her screentime is all too brief.

It's depressing to think Stallone got an Oscar nomination for screenwriting Rocky, and this insipid snore is what he's turning out now. It's too devoid of worthwhile action set pieces to satisfy as an action film, too dull to work as a thriller, and too dumb to work as an earnest crime drama. All in all, Homefront is a dud.

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Nebraska

If you only see one black and white movie this year centering on a 70 year old drunk with dementia driving across the American Midwest with his son, that movie should be Nebraska. Admittedly your options in this category may be fairly limited, but don?t let that devalue the recommendation ? there are few features out there now with as much heart, honesty and genuine laughs as the new movie from director Alexander Payne.

Based on an original screenplay by Bob Nelson, the film tells the story of an aging, alcoholic man named Woody Grant (Bruce Dern), who receives a sweepstakes notification in the mail telling him that he may have won a $1 million prize. Despite warnings that the letter is just a hoax from both his sons, David (Will Forte) and Ross (Bob Odenkirk), and his wife (June Squibb), Woody is convinced that he has become a millionaire and is willing to walk all the way to Nebraska from his Montana home in order to pick up his supposed winnings. Fearing for his father?s safety and knowing that he won?t be able to convince him that the contest is a fraud, David opts to drive his father to Nebraska so that he can learn the truth ? and in the process the son discovers a side to his dad that he never saw before.

Similar to material we?ve seen from Payne before, Nebraska wonderfully straddles the distinctive line between comedy and drama, with an impressive balance of tone on both sides. The entire movie is peppered with strange, awkward little moments between characters that will have audiences laughing out loud, from David having a debate with two hillbilly cousins about how long it takes to drive from Montana to Nebraska to Woody complaining that Mt. Rushmore looks incomplete and lazy. At the same time, though, the movie can immediately have you going from chuckling to being concerned about the welfare of the main characters and contemplating what it means to get old and the idea of never being able to go home again. Each half of the story never lessens the other, and instead they work together to create an incredibly fulfilling movie-going experience.

Aesthetically, the film is almost a perfect contrast to Payne?s last feature, 2011?s The Descendants. In his previous effort the director got to capture the lush landscapes and incredible colors that exist in Hawaii, but Nebraska is filmed in stark black and white and possesses its own kind of special beauty. As any road movie should be, the new film is flush with amazing, sweeping countryside photography, but more than just showing us the setting the direction and camera work also helps the audience see deeper into the characters. Regular close-ups of the aging Dern alone tell us everything we need to know about Woody, the actor able to communicate degrees of reflection, pain and regret with single expressions while the camera focuses on the contours and wrinkles of his face.

Bringing to life a emotionally complex and interesting character, Dern delivers the stand-out performance of Nebraska. There are many facets to Woody Grant, both relatable and unlikable, and Dern finds every moment. The character?s selfishness, stubbornness and bad habits can make you want to just give up on him, but Dern regularly brings him back from the brink, making him empathetic in his weakest moments and hilarious in his strongest. The entire film is filled with great turns, as Forte brings a wonderful earnestness to David and Squibb delivers some of the best moments, but Dern alone makes the movie worth the price of admission.

There is a lot packed in to the story of Nebraska, the film hitting on themes ranging from father-son relationships to homecomings to growing old, but it?s all deftly packaged together in a warm, emotionally honest, beautifully-shot package. It can't match the heft of Payne titles like Sideways and The Descendants, but the filmmaker has once again proven that few can make funny, captivating, character-driven dramedies quite on the level that he can.

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Disney's Frozen

Disney's Frozen Lest you forget amid all the noise made by Marvel Studios and Star Wars rumors, Walt Disney Pictures still does big business in princesses, and they're aiming to prove it with their mammoth new holiday season release Frozen. Very, very loosely adapted from Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tale, it's the story of a vaguely Nordic kingdom and the two orphaned sisters, Elsa (Idina Menzel) and Anna (Kristen Bell), charged with running it. The spunky heroine and lonely castle hearken back to recent hit Tangled; the sisterly conflict feels like The Little Mermaid; the knowing fairy tales riffs are pure Enchanted. This is rigorous Disney hit-making at its finest, but with enough charm to get away with it.

Even before Elsa's powers of shooting ice and snow from her fingertips run rampant, the animation guided by directors Chris Buck and Jennifer Lee is stunning-- Elsa and Anna's parents perish in a single shot of a howling storm at sea, and the stony cliffs surrounding the village of Arrendel are dramatic even before coated in ice. Elsa revels in her powers as a little girl, but after a close call with Anna and a poorly aimed bolt of ice, she's convinced to hide her strengths and retreat from their tight sisterly bond. The death of the king and queen means Elsa must take over, but the stress of her coronation (and Anna's dumb-cluck decision to get engaged to a hunky prince she just met) makes her lose control. Elsa storms up into the mountains, leaving ice castles and blizzards in her wake and belting the power ballad "Let It Go." Especially as sung by Menzel it's a shameless riff on Wicked's "Defying Gravity"; that hasn't kept it from sticking in my head for weeks now, and good luck shaking it out of yours.

Anna's heroic journey is, refreshingly, not about a boy or even about herself-- she travels into the mountains to convince Elsa to return, and teams up with rugged ice salesman Kristof (Jonathan Groff) to get there. Kristof and Anna are going to fall for each other eventually, of course, and she'll ditch that princely fianc? Hans (Santino Fontana), but the focus remains firmly on Anna and Elsa, as Lee's screenplay repeatedly subverts fairy tale tropes to make them about sisterly, not romantic, love. The beats of the story and the catchy songs can feel a bit factory-produced-- funny sidekicks in the form of mountain trolls show up at the exact right time for a laugh, and the old man villains are shipped directly from Gaston's mob in Beauty and the Beast. But Frozen has all the right modern touches too, without falling into winky-wink Shrek territory.

It also pulls off a miracle in Olaf, the buck-toothed snowman you've seen in every ad and voiced by Book of Mormon's Josh Gad. The goofy sidekick is usually an exasperating pander to younger kids who might get restless after too much story, and even in the brilliant Mormon Gad tended to overplay his schlubby goofball hand. But Olaf is consistently, actually funny, and even has the film's best song in "In Summer," dreaming of how great a snowman's life will be in warmer times (Anna and Kristof don't have the heart to tell him the truth). Even Olaf's origin story helps highlight the relationship between the sisters-- Frozen's story may sometimes feel machine-made perfect, but there's satisfaction in watching a production this big stay so resolutely on point.

Debuting her serious pipes after making her name on television, Kristen Bell is a righteously spunky and funny heroine, while Menzel ably shoulders the film's heaviest drama (and by far the best princess dresses, to be seen on Halloween racks everywhere next fall). Both girls are heroines on the level of Belle, Jasmine or Ariel, and do them one better by choosing family over more conventional romance-- a nice contrast to, say, Bella of Twilight. Big animated movies are under crazy pressure to teach kids the "right" lessons, but Frozen wears that pressure lightly, putting much more focus on its gorgeous animation, its insanely catchy songs and its well-earned emotional highs. Especially as Disney turns toward revamping older princesses like Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella for live-action dramas, it's a pleasure to see the studio go back to what they've always done well and prove they've still got it.

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Inside Llewyn Davis

Inside Llewyn Davis Ever since walking out of the theater after watching Joel and Ethan Coen?s Inside Llewyn Davis I?ve tried to pick the perfect adjective to define the film?s titular character. ?Asshole? was certainly a heavy consideration, as it?s the preferred insult thrown at Llewyn by Jean, the lead?s tempestuous former lover, played by Carey Mulligan. Ultimately, however, I settled on ?Loser.? The term fits easily in the pejorative sense, as he is a deadbeat who spends his weeks couch-surfing and hitchhiking, but really it?s the definitive sense that fits flawlessly. Llewyn Davis is a man who loses. All together Inside Llewyn Davis is a beautiful, sad/funny folk song about failure ? but the ending irony is that the film succeeds on every level.

Set over the course of a week, the movie follows Llewyn as he desperately tries to keep his head above water navigating the folk music scene of New York City?s Greenwich Village in 1961. Recovering from the suicide of his best friend and singing partner, he works to establish himself as a solo act, but with his caustic and cynical attitude he finds himself constantly surrounded by blood-boiling cheap phonies and sell-outs doling out disappointment and rejection around every corner. He?s unable to keep any portion of his life in working order ? losing his friend?s cat, impregnating his best friend?s girlfriend, mission out on big breaks ? and it all contributes to a never-ending, self-fulfilling cycle of defeat.

It?s a great credit to star Oscar Isaac that a character as bullheaded, ornery and misanthropic as Llewyn can come to life and be as entertaining and engaging as he is in the film. As bad an attitude as the protagonist may have, he earns respect from the audience, not necessarily for his convictions or even the fact that he?s right, but because he?s both entertaining to watch on a comedic, Buster Keaton level and incredibly talented as a musician. From the very opening of the movie, which features Llewyn sitting on a starkly-lit stage in a caf? singing a rendition of Dave Van Ronk?s ?Hang Me, Oh Hang Me,? we become entranced by the soul in Isaac?s vocal and guitar performance and that impression only grows stronger over the course of multiple performances in the story.

Of course, it wouldn?t be a Coen brothers film without a roster of terrific character actors as off-beat supporting players. Llewyn?s path through small vignettes that make up his week find him connecting with a full variety of friends, family members and strangers who almost exclusively bring out the worst in him, painting a handsomely hideous portrait of the lead while also weaving a smart, funny and entertaining story. Mulligan?s Jean is a scene-stealer thanks to an acid tongue that rightly and regularly calls out Llewyn on his bullshit and cuts him down to size, but really every performer puts on a markedly memorable performance, from Adam Driver as a baritone-voiced backup singer on a stupidly catchy pop song called ?Please Mr. Kennedy? to Coen veteran John Goodman as a patronizing, dickish jazz musician who takes every opportunity he can to belittle Llewyn?s very existence. It?s a collection of characters you?d learn about in a Bob Dylan song, each one adding their bit of color to a world covered in grey.

Reflecting the general misery of the lead character, the atmosphere of Inside Llewyn Davis is painted in muted tones and deep contrasts and has its own unique dark beauty. After years of working with the genius Roger Deakins, the Coens put the photography in the hands of cinematographer Bruno Delbonnel, but rather than suffering in the shadow of his predecessor he has lit and filmed one of the directors? most gorgeous films to date. Soft lighting brings the chill of a New York winter right into the theater, while darkness surrounding Llewyn as he plays a set develops an isolation for the character while creating an intimacy for the audience.

Due to the fact that the Coen brothers are two of my favorite filmmakers, I hold their movies to a different standard when I enter a theater and I am constantly amazed at how they continue to produce at such an astonishing, brilliant level. Each time out they present something bold, innovative and different. While the musical influence may remind audiences of the great O Brother Where Art Thou and the pitch black humor is in the same vein as A Serious Man, Inside Llewyn Davis is unlike anything the directors have made and is a phenomenal piece of art.

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Oldboy

Oldboy Who should you feel sorriest for watching the new Oldboy? Josh Brolin, for both shedding and gaining weight to play the lead role? Elizabeth Olsen, for enduring both a nude scene and a near-rape scene as a thankless expository character? Sharlto Copley, for committing to a theatrically over-the-top villain with nowhere to go? Or Spike Lee, a genuinely important and unique director, hiding his light under a bushel and disappearing into a remake that everyone knew from the start had no reason to exist?

It's probably kindest to feel sorry for everyone then move on as quickly as possible, since this Oldboy-- a remake of the 2003 South Korean cult favorite-- has almost nothing that will last in your memory. It lifts the exact same plot of mysterious imprisonment and violent revenge, with Brolin stepping in the role as a rowdy businessman who goes on a bender the night of his daughter's birthday and, for no apparent reason, is imprisoned in a hotel-room-like cell for 20 years. The prison scenes are among the most interesting, thanks to the surreal presence of an imaginary bellboy and Brolin's own ferocity, but Lee also marks the passage of time with exploitative footage of 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina-- a scattershot approach that's a sign of the sloppiness to come.

Brolin's Joe Doucett is busy plotting his escape when he's suddenly freed, and sets about trying to figure out who imprisoned him, and why. Joining him is Olsen's Marie, a young doctor with no apparent reason to be interested in this manic man, plus Michael Imperioli as Joe's old friend. The search gets even trickier when Copley's villain, all sculpted facial hair and unplaceable European accent, shows up to confess he's responsible, but then issues Joe a challenge. If Joe can't figure out who Copley is and why he tortured him for 20 years, Copley will kill Joe's daughter, whom he apparently has held captive.

A tale of revenge, and even one that maintains the famous crazy twists at the end of Park Chan-wook's original Oldboy, could be translated in a fascinating way to America, where we're basically obsessed with getting revenge in the most violent way possible. But no one is able to get out of the original film's shadow, much less Lee, who incorporates his signature double dolly shot and a few characters staring directly at the camera, but who also seems hamstrung by recreating the first film's signature moments. Yes, there is a hallway fight scene in which Brolin is armed with a hammer, and yes, it takes place (almost) in a single take. But the choreography feels stagey and goofy, and the scene's placement in the film just a little off. Lee has complained specifically about that shot-- his original cut was three hours, and the final film is 102 minutes-- but it's hard to know that what he had there was any better. Lee, not exactly known for shooting hand-to-hand action, was given a no-win situation in recreating that scene, and it's baffling that they didn't want to scrap it entirely and replace it with something new.

As Oldboy moves on it feels more and more generic, as if a studio grabbed hold of the wheel and turned it into something more resembling a late-90s Ashley Judd thriller than either the original or any of Lee's films. Samuel L. Jackson (as the hotel prison manager) and Copley give wildly campy performances that are badly out of of step with the grim-faced Olsen and Brolin, who often seem disconnected even when sharing a scene. Something, somewhere got lost in translation, not even counting the travel from Korea to the anonymous American city where this takes place (seeing Lee separated from New York is possibly the most heartbreaking part of this). A remake of Oldboy could still, in theory, be good. But one this muddled, this blatantly confused about its own purpose, only makes everyone involved look worse for being part of it.

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