Directed by: Joss Whedon
Rated: PG-13 for intense sequences of Sci- Fi violence and action throughout, and a mild drug reference
Bennet Miller's haunting biopic on Truman Capote and the writing of his novel In Cold Blood perfectly captures the story, the man, and most importantly the psychology of the man who wrote perhaps the most famous novel of the 20th century, while straying from driving plot points and irrelevant rabbit trails. Truman (played by the gifted Phillip Seymour Hoffman in perhaps his greatest performance ever) is trend-setter, and man beyond his time, who is as gifted as they come, even when compared to his famous childhood friend (and To Kill a Mockingbird author) Harper Lee (Catherine Keener.) However, Truman is almost incapacitated by his own gifts; living up to them (and breaking his own personal stereotypes) leaves him feeling utterly insecure and self-focused, often worrying about how people view him, even in situations where he's not the center of attention. Through these actions, Capote turns people away from him, personally, and turns himself into the outcast that he so fears of becoming, which leads him to feeling some form of empathy towards the killers of his non-fiction novel. Empathy is probably the best way to describe the film; it doesn't condone Capote or the killer's actions, but you want them so badly to find the redemption that seems outreach simply because they can't see life beyond themselves.
The indie coming-of-age story The Art of Getting By pits a fatalistic teenager (Freddie Highmore) whose drab outlook on life causes him to go through life as a slacker, without passion or dreams. He doesn’t do homework, doesn’t have friends, and doesn’t even have any hobbies or goals. But this all changes when he begins a friendship with another trouble teenager (Emma Roberts, practically playing the same role from her film It’s Kind of a Funny Story) who forces Highmore’s character to wrestle with his emotions rather than just ignore them. While the honesty of the film is admirable, the muddy tale is full of pointless sub-plots , teenage angst (and law-breaking), and confusing themes; much like the main character, our emotions towards what is happening have no connection to a message or theme; as good as everything turns out, we’re not sure how or why it did so. Much like the title, this film simply gets by as a decent, quirky drama that would have been far more powerful had it actually had something to say in the end.
The epic of Shakespearean adaptations, Kenneth Branagh’s unabridged, colossal scale retelling of Hamlet is a spectacle for the ages. Shot on pristine 70mm film (the most recent of films to have done so), this adaptation is played out by acting greats such as Branagh, Derek Jacobi, Kate Winslett, Julie Christie, Michael Maloney, Judi Dench, Gerard Depardieu, Richard Attenborough, and Charleton Heston, as well as comedic cameos from Billy Crystal and Robin Williams (both of which must be forgiven for their lack of English accents.) The performances (particularly Maloney, Branagh, and Winslett) are dynamic and the cinematography and score are wondrous. And despite the laboriously long scenes for a movie, Branagh utilize films’ strength by editing shots outside of the scene into the various acts, which not only makes the story more powerful, but also re-emphasizes what the character is talking about, which is helpful for those like me who don’t always understand Shakespeare’s dialogue. (Perhaps this isn’t always a bad thing: Branagh’s adaptation has some gruesome moments, and includes some cut-aways of a sex scene between Hamlet and Ophelia, which is implied in Shakespeare’s script but never shown.) As massive and long (over 4 hours) as this adaptation is, it still is missing the power of the story and even of other film adaptations. This is no fault of Shakespeare, and certainly not of Branagh. It’s simply because theatrical plays (which are dialogue driven) don’t adapt well to cinema (which are visually driven.) Despite the strength of Shakespeare’s story and dialogue, as well as Branagh’s vision, when it comes to Hamlet, the play is still the thing.
Towards the end of the film, Liam Neeson's character (who earlier claimed to be an atheist) looks to the heavens and screams at God to reveal the purpose of this senseless world around him, and begs for Him to show him something real. When God is silent, Ottway curses and mumbles that he will do it himself. We are then given a climax of the film, devoid of meaning and connection to the earlier events, which devalues the internal and external plot the characters have been going through. It's one thing to say "life is meaningless" but it's an even darker thing to say "even the search for meaning is purposeless." First off, it never deals with the fact that, if the search is purposeless, why are we searching for it? (As C.S. Lewis explained, our search for purpose proves that there is a need for purpose.) Furthermore, this is contradictory because Neeson (and the film) can't escape the search and plot; Ottway claims he doesn't believe in God yet still cries to the heavens. They claim that life is meaningless, yet they still fight for survival and to find meaning. They even fail to see how the plot of the film shows a purpose-driven and sovereign hand, from their survival of plane wreck to Ottway's failed attempt to commit suicide in the back-story of the film. There is a difference to say "I can't see the purpose" and saying "there is no purpose", but The Grey lumps the two together, which is incredibly unfair. Among it's many other faults, The Grey failed to really think through it's own story; the sovereignty and meaning of life is written in every frame, even if the characters failed to realize it.
