A film (with a stupid title) that far surpasses expectations: Infinitely Polar Bear

I wouldn't say Infinitely Polar Bear is a great movie - but for one thing its a thousand times better than its title, and it's a movie that does accomplish its modest goals and far surpasses the expectations for a small-cast indie drama (filmed in RI, BTW - though few of the settings are readily recognizable, which is actually a plus - gets a good sense of an urban neighborhood on the edge). This simply put is a story about a family of 4, inter-racial couple, the husband a charming guy (Mark Ruffalo) beset with bipolar disorder and the wife (Zoe Soldana) unable to support the children leaves for NYC to get a business degree but comes back on weekends to help with the kids (but pointedly not to resume sexual relations with husband). The older, preteen daughter narrates the story, presumably from an adult perspective - story set in 1978, and the period details are good but really it could just as well have been set in the present. What's particularly great about this film, by writer-director Maya Forbes,  is what she chose not to do: it's not about how cute and sweet and cuddly the dad is, about how mental illness makes him funny and quirky, a character, about a lovely inter-racial family overcoming obstacles to get along in a tough world. No - the film is completely, devastatingly honest: the husband is truly suffering, he is a terribly incompetent dad putting the children at times in great risk and all the time confusing and embarrassing them - if there's a flaw it's in how well the kids seem to adapt. The film hits a few easy targets - notably Ruffalo's wealthy family that remains cool and oblivious and refuses to offer significant support. Film contains some humor, some great sorrow, some touching moments, some deeply troubling moments - a lot, in a modest, straightforward film.

Un-dear Diary: Well acted, directed, written but a hard movie to like

The Diary of a Teenage Girl (Marielle Heller, 2015) starts out looking (and feeling) like a sweet coming-of-age story set in 1970s San Francisco and narrated, into a cassette player, by a somewhat awkward, artistic 15-year-old (Bel Powley). Pretty quickly, though, the movie becomes something else entirely, as the teen gets involved in an aggressive sexual relationship with her mother's boyfriend, a 35-year-old ne'er-do-well who of course is a loathsome predator and ought to be sent to jail for what he does to this vulnerable young woman. Over the course of the movie we watch the sad and pathetic descent of this young woman into a dangerous, sordid, and lonely life - entirely ignored by her drug-addled, incompetent mother (Kristen Wiig) and with no support from any source: her one girlfriend is completely unreliable and a terrible influence, she has no good relationships with boys, teachers, mentors, her stepfather tries to help a little bit but manages just to make matters worse, and when at last her mother learns of the completely inappropriate and in fact illegal relationship she turns against her daughter. Based on a novel (not a true story I hope and trust - most likely a YA book), this movie takes an inevitable downward course and then [ possible spoilers ] at the end picks up in an unlikely fashion as the teen finds some salvation in her artwork (Heller incorporates some imaginative computer-graphic illustrations to highlight certain moods and moments throughout the film) and as her mother at last comes to her defense, at least a little, and she bonds with her largely ignored precocious younger sister. Powley plays the part very well, and the movie is sure-handed in achieving the effects it wants - and does a great job of putting this poor girl's troubled life in the context of what I can only call the loose morals of the era, very troubling for a girl without help from family or friends or school), but despite the limp attempt at an upbeat ending it's hard to imagine anyone actually liking this film. Personally, I'd have liked to see the Lothario hauled off in chains, but the movie leaves him alone and unscathed, which is probably a realistic ending sad to say.

The bravery of Oppenheimer's The Look of Silence - and our complicity

Joshua Oppenheimer's The Look of Silence (2014) is a companion piece and follow-up to his previous terrific documentary, The Act of Killing, about the tyrannic oppression and slaughter of so-called Communists in Indonesia in the 1970s. In Act of Killing Oppenheimer visited with many of the army officers and other officials of the right-wing military government, including those who killed hundreds with their own hands, and interviewed them at length about their experiences - and the film was literally shocking as these aged men gleefully recount their exploits, with not a bit of regret or remorse (they also make a totally bizarre music video to express their feelings). In Look of Silence a 44-year-old man, an optometrist serving the poor, apparently in reaction to Act of Killing sets off to find and interview those who killed his older brother; in fact, he looks at what appear to b various out-takes from Opp.'s archives and then interviews the subjects - all on camera. It's a more subtle film that Act but also more focused, as we see a gradually unfolding narrative about the torture and death of one of the million who were killed - and we see the woeful contortions through which these criminals and thugs make peace with themselves and build explanations and excuses for what they did. We also see a few moments of forgiveness and reconciliation - and we get a bit of the cultural history and our own complicity: There's no doubt that the U.S. supported and encouraged and probably even financed the military slaughter of any and all suspected dissidents - labeling them all Communists - particularly in defense of American corporations exploiting the resources of Indonesia - Goodyear is one that the film highlights, with a news clip that seems to think it just fine that union organizers were then working as enslaved prisoners on the Goodyear rubber plantations. A lot of good our commitment to overthrowing Communism in Asia has done for us, as Indonesia is now hardly an ally or a "friendly nation." The incredible bravery of the central figure in this documentary, Adi, who takes on this mission knowing it will be very easy to ID him and his family, becomes even more stark on the closing credits, in which virtually every member of the crew is identified only as "Anonymous."

The excellence of Season 1 of Transparent

Season 1 of Transparent is terrific all the way through, funny, sexy, insightful, and moving - never exploitative or other the top. It's a show that many probably overlook because they expect all the wrong things, something lurid and sensational, and this fine series never cheapens itself with easy laughs or sight gags. It's really a subtle and credible examination of family life and sexuality and conventional attitudes toward the varieties of sexual experience and how these attitudes are changing, evolving - over the long term and under immediate temporal pressures. Jill Soloway, writer, director, creator of the series, deserves a lot of credit, ditto up and down the cast with of course special notice for Jeffrey Tambor in a very challenging lead role as Maura. Great episodes and scenes all across the last 5 episodes of the season, but of special note the episode entirely in 1994 flashback (each episode has some flashbacks to that period, when the family's life began to change as the father becomes increasingly open about his desire to trans) at which Maura (then Mark) and friend Ed surreptitiously visit a summer camp for cross-dressers - we really feel the pain he lives with leading a double life, the dinner table blowup when Maura movingly apologizes for not being more forthcoming with his son-in-law but stating simply that he's just a person with struggles and suffering of his own, the terrific shiva scenes in the final episode of the season with a big reveal about Josh's past - and a troubling break-up with the very winning rabbi who seemed at last to bring Josh out of his narcissism. Lots of open issues, nothing fully resolved, lots of complex emotions and ambiguity, as in life.

A great documentary expose that is appalling and scary - or ought to be

Every moment of the Demos Ricciardi Netflix documentary, Making a Murderer, kept us focused and "glued to the screen" and eager to get the next bit of info - right to the end when we, like most viewers probably, went online to get even more info. Obvious many spoilers here so just watch the 10-part series if you haven't done so yet. Otherwise: yes, a few things are obvious. Brendan was totally screwed, first by the police with the illegal interrogation, then by his so-called defense lawyers who pushed him to confess so as to make him a valuable witness, finally by the court system with its perfunctory review, much of the review by the judge who ruled in the first place. He should be free, without question. Steve Avery is a tougher call. I am not sure he's innocent, but I don't have to be sure. I am sure he was also screwed by investigators and prosecutors and a biased judge - all of the lower-court system are in bed with one another and far more likely to give credence to the word of a cop or sheriff and certainly not to a sketchy outsider oddball like Steven. Still, it's very possible he did commit the crime, though there's still plenty of doubt, at least as far as the documentary shows. Though there are many doubts about Steve - no blood in the bedroom after the rape and murder?, no sign of the manacles or rope holding her to the bed?, no sense of the timeline?, - nobody even tried to make a plausible case for another perpetrator. Reading online afterward it may be there there was prosecution evidence that was in the trial but not in the movie, e.g., a series of calls from Steven to the victim, manacles or handcuffs in the so-called burn pit - these would cast further suspicion on Steve, so omitting it in the documentary was smart insofar as this is a polemical piece but a serious compromise regarding the full picture. Several points that were raised in the film need some elucidation, too: who was making annoying calls to Theresa? What did that investigator mean when describing the Avery family as satanic? I'm sure there will be a lot more about this film, but, even in Steve is guilty, the depiction of the trial and the consistent violation of his right to presumption of innocence is appalling and scary (or ought to be). The come-uppance for the sanctimonious prosecutor, though not necessarily relevant to this trial, was final fillip on a great documentary expose.

TV documentary at its best: Making a Murderer

The Ricciardi and Demos Network series Making a Murderer is about as good as it gets - once you start you can't stop watching and, though I never binge watch (I prefer to put at least a day between episodes to absorb the material and not to OD and grow sick of a series I'm really enjoying) I'm sure tempted to move ahead. This 10-part series (I'm half-way through and trying hard to avoid stories and posts about this show until we've finished) is a documentary account of a murder case that has so many odd events - either incredible coincidences or some of the most nefarious examples ever of police conspiracy and malfeasance ever recorded; and thanks to great archiving and smart use of contemporary interviews there's plenty of footage so that we experience these events from the inside, live, as they're unfolding - each episode crashing down on us with a new wave of nearly unfathomable information. At one point I said: This would never fly if their were a feature film. Nobody would believe it. Making a Murderer is the latest in a relatively small but excellent tradition of murder cases re-told through live documentary: the Paradise Lost series, Serial Season 1, the under-appreciated The Staircase being 3 of the best. Like those, this account is about a crime, of course, but it's also a socioeconomic portrait of a marginal community, as well as a great mystery - you're constantly trying to figure it out, and repeatedly surprised and brought up short.

A music biopice that goes way beyond the expectations of the genre - Love & Mercy

Bill Poahlad's excellent biopic on Brian Wilson, of the Beach Boys, goes way beyond the standard and the formula of so many recent rock biopics - up from poverty, sudden success, ruined by success, later-career revival ... a la Ray Charles, Johnny Cash, James Brown, et al - some of these being pretty good pictures and certainly opportunities to enjoy some excellent music if nothing else. But Love & Mercy goes way beyond these, in truly examining a very disturbed young man who achieved greatness almost in spite of himself and then lived a difficult and tortured life in which he almost had to hide from his fame, in which he was mistreated and abused by the lechers that surrounded him and pretended to act in his best interest, and in his way kept wanting to make music and art - and struggled to have a normal life as husband and father - which, by all accounts, it seems he has been able to do at long last. Smartly, the movie has two Brian Wilsons, both excellent: Dano as the young BW, just starting to movie away from his brothers and others in the pop group and to push them into much more complex and unusual musical structures and orchestrations, with they and most of the fan base resisted - and John Cusak as the mature BW, a broken man kept almost imprisoned by his so-called guardian (a bit over-played by Paul Giamatti) who over-medicates him and controls all of his interactions w/ others. Somehow Pohlad blends these two story lines so that they supplement each other; the movie is visually imaginative, with some great hand-held camera sequence and, surprisingly, excellent use of "flashbacks" to scenes of parental abuse and a nervous breakdown while flying in a private jet. Usually these devices crew up a film (James Brown biopic, e.g.), but here the narrative is easy to follow and of course the film has a terrific sound track - and the many scenes of BW in studio sessions struggling to get the sound he wants from a classically trained set of session musicians helps us see the complexity and imagination behind some of the seemingly simple harmonies and orchestration of Beach Boys later hits - Good Vibrations being one example. The artist or musician or writer tortured by demons is a cliche of course, but it's a cliche based on some reality, too, and this movie gets at the personal torment as well as or better than any other of the genre. We feel sorrow and pity for BW throughout, as well as admiration - and yet we can also see why his band mates pushed back and resisted the changes he was pushing - it was a journey he was destined to take alone.

There Is No Joy - in David O. Russell's newest filmn

Just a note here about David O. Russell's new film, Joy, which I found unwatchable: Just because this talented foursome of highly paid actors worked well together in another film (Silver Linings Playbook, which I enjoyed to a degree despite concerns about its unrealistically optimistic portrayal of severely troubled characters) doesn't mean they can pull it off again - especially in a movie that literally has no idea what kind of tone it wishes to establish, what its goal might be, what point of view the director holds, if any. Is it about a gutsy young woman who beats the odds and establishes her own company? About a kooky band of misfits who succeed in spite of themselves? That, too. Is there a single character who is believable for one second? Definitely not. Is there a single likable character? Maybe, to the degree that you can like a "character" who bears no resemblance to a person, even though this movies is (loosely) based on a set of facts. From the fake cutesy scenes of the Jennifer Lawrence character doing paper cut outs as an "adorable" child, to the ranting and raving of the Robert De Niro in yet another dial-it-in performance  - there's nowhere to land on this movie. I'll give just one example of Russell's either contempt for or ignorance about normal human behavior: It's the middle of a tough winter, and the characters go for a spin on the Bay (or Sound?) in a sailboat. Let me tell you - there are no sailboats in the water in mid-winter in the Northeast, and, if by some weird chance there were - if you went out dressed as these guys were, they'd all literally die. So will this film.

A grerat and scary movie about radical Islam in Central Africa: Timbuktu

Abderrahman Sissaako's (yes, I had to look it up) 2014 film, Timbuktu, is scary in all sorts of ways - not like a horror film and not because of excessive violence but because it shows, as clearly as any film I'm aware of, how a radical Islamist force can sweep into a small city, seize control, and impose its autocratic rule on the terrified, cowered residents. A bunch of thugs with guns will rule - there seems to be no way around this - unless they're met with equal counterforce by a central government, and none seems to be present or even rumored, in this film and on the ground today. There are a lot of dimensions to this movie, some a little hard for Western viewers, or to me at least, to unravel - there seems to be an opposition, even before the arrival of the militants, between a native black culture and a Bedouin culture (the movie is set in Mali, where from what I've read there are African-Bedouin struggles, essentially a war between South and North); not quite clear if everyone in the small, invaded city is Muslim, but that appears to be the case - but the invading thugs impose a strict regime (women covered, even to the point of wearing gloves at all times), on all but themselves (smoking is banned, but the leader of the invaders finds a place to indulge). Some of the villagers resist, and some are punished, lashed, even killed for their upstart behavior. Film centers on a Bedouin man who kills an African in a dispute about stray cattle v fishing nets - and on his so-called trial and execution; odd that this infringement is peripheral to the radical invasion of the city, but it shows how the invading army perverts the entire justice system in the name of jihad or shariah. The radical Islamists are not driven, it seems, by faith or by any desire to make lives better for anyone but themselves - in fact, the driving force seems to be about oppression of and possession of women (my belief is that the whole extremist culture in Islam is driven by the harem system, which ensures that there are not enough women in any one village for all of the men - creating militant bands to protect the harem and that go off in search of women in other villages whom they can capture and control). Can anyone explain who the man is whom we see in the opening sequence being led blindfolded to an exchange place in the desert? One incidental pleasure of this film is the great score, with original music by Amine Bouhafa (yes, I looked that up, too), much in the tradition of the great Ali Farka Toure. If there's a soundtrack CD I will buy it.