Category: 2010s

After the death of his father, Christopher Abbott’s adrift twenty-something titular character falls down a spiral of self destructive behavior, ignoring the co-dependent pleas of his terminally ill mother. There’s not much to the film other than watching Abbott’s character struggle to find stable ground all while continuing to dig himself further down a hole of drug binges, fighting, and sex with the teenaged girlfriend he met in Mexico. But it’s an incredible performance that really showcases how strong of an actor Abbott is, especially when working with Cynthia Nixon as his mother who delivers an equally strong performance in a supporting role.

Jennifer Lawrence is serenely renovating the home she shares with writer husband Javier Bardem when Ed Harris shows up and starts impeding on their lives, bringing his family and then more and more people with him. I had been fairly certain when this film was released that it would not be my type of thing, but eventually I caved and discovered I was correct in my initial assumption. I enjoy most of director Darren Aronofsky’s work, but is him at his most arty pretentiousness. Very heavy in allegory, particularly of the biblical variety, it does not allow a moment to breath by constantly inundating the viewer with brutality forced onto Lawrence’s character all for the sake of blatant metaphor. 

Having rented a theatre to rehearse Richard III for a potential comeback to the stage, Christopher Plummer’s John Barrymore quickly descends into erratic drunken ramblings about his life and career. In a mostly one man show, Plummer gives a powerhouse of a performance. Plummer doesn’t particularly look like John, but it didn’t take long for him to completely disappear into the role. While I’m just getting more familiar with this Barrymore’s work, the monologues go far in detailing the weight and talent associated with the family name. I especially love the parts where Plummer as John imitates his wives and siblings. His Lionel was amazingly spot on.

Stefanie Martini invites former flame, private investigator Max Irons to her family’s estate to investigate the circumstances surrounding her beloved grandfather’s death. Not surprisingly based on an Agatha Christie novel, the central mystery isn’t all that surprising and the little supposed romance between Irons and Martini fizzles especially since Martini comes across as a poor choice in her role. Luckily the rest of the female cast is incredibly strong with the always marvelous Glenn Close, Christina Hendricks, and Gillian Anderson, who for some reason are all hairstyled in uniquely garish colors. The film is an entertaining diversion, but it plays out as a poor man’s Knives Out.   

Led by visionary guitarist David, the three Hackney brothers formed the punk band Death in 1970s Detroit. Pioneers in their genre, they largely remained mostly unknown until record collectors in the early 2000s rediscovered the band and spread their music. The beginning of the documentary is a standard, low-budget retelling of the trio’s history from funk to punk to gospel that only barely held my attention. I’m glad I kept with it as the second half as the band begins to find new fans is much more remarkable. The love the Hackney clan shares with each other is quite beautiful to witness and their willingness to share these emotional moments is appreciated. 

Seeking a divorce from her philandering husband Lee Pace, doctor Hilary Swank struggles to find a new place until she falls upon the perfect apartment. At least it was the perfect apartment until she discovers her find was orchestrated by creepy stalker Jeffrey Dean Morgan. I assume this is supposed to be a scary premise, but it doesn’t deliver in any regard. It does offer plenty of disturbing actions committed by Morgan which he carries off with aplomb. I sincerely hope that Swank’s character is more competent toward her patients, because every action she makes on screen is one of stupidity and listlessness. Pace is criminally underused as is Christopher Lee in what is sadly his last performance for a role that existed for no reason apparent to the plot. 

Inexperienced FBI agent Elizabeth Olsen is called in to investigate the death of a Native American woman on Wyoming’s Wind River Reservation. When the cause of death is not ruled a homicide, she entreaties local Fish and Wildlife Agent Jeremy Renner to help with the investigation. I don’t know how many people are still unaware of the endemic violence surrounding Native women both in North America, but it’s remains a crisis that is still underexplored. This movie at least gives voice to that plight even if that voice is shrouded in the experiences of white outsiders. I enjoy all I’ve seen from Olsen and her performance works as an out of her depths experience, but it bewilders me that her partner in the endeavor is another white person who is on the margins of the community. It unfortunately dilutes some of the message an otherwise impressive film has to offer.