/_derived_jpg_q90_250x0_m0/EdgeofDarkness2010-PosterArt.jpg?partner=allrovi.com)
Joel Schumacher's social
commentary features an exceptional performance from Michael Douglas as
D-Fens, a man who unravels under the weight of the nerve-wracking
oppression of the Establishment. Balancing precariously on the edge of
convention, D-Fens' sense of the "American way" is increasingly
undermined as one frustration after another materializes during his
mission through the urban jungle of Los Angeles. In the course of his
plunge into a profound, sociopathic disillusionment, D-Fens strips away
society's constructs to reveal internally flawed social and economic
mechanisms. The host of caricatures he encounters, from a stingy Korean
store owner to uncompromising fast-food employees, turf-conscious
gangbangers and a neo-Nazi army-surplus store owner (played with gleeful
ickiness by Frederic Forrest), are products of a dehumanizing social
and economic system, and are used to symbolize capitalism's darker side.
Schumacher does well to pinpoint the flaws of the system, but
unfortunately he offers nothing in the way of solutions. Meanwhile, both
Douglas and the peerless Robert Duvall
nail their respective roles and find their grooves within a
well-written script. This street-smart film is as entertaining as it is
biting, but ultimately suffers from a denouement not nearly as
spectacular as its build-up; what could have been a modern masterpiece
is downgraded to exceedingly above-average cinema.
It's no surprise that a
consummate New York filmmaker -- especially one who wears his heart on
his sleeve -- should direct the first mainstream film that wrestles
openly with the aftermath of September 11th. Less expected was that Spike Lee would so cleverly absorb those themes into the subtext of an unrelated story about a pinched drug dealer, Monty Brogan (Edward Norton), indulging his final freedoms before going up the river. Granted, Lee's trademark sledgehammer approach does have its moments in The 25th Hour,
such as when Monty's rage erupts in the form of a diatribe against New
York's spectrum of ethnic and socioeconomic archetypes, an echo of Do The Right Thing.
However, the fact that this aggressive defamation of the city's
populace doubles as an ode to its diversity gets at the contradictory
nature of post-traumatic New York -- it's more wary and distrustful than
ever, yet eager to rebound toward glory. Norton's
Monty Brogan serves as a stand-in for the American people, his
complacency destroyed by a rude awakening, then quickly replaced by
fears of a murky future. Norton leads a dynamite ensemble that includes typically strong performances from Philip Seymour Hoffman, Anna Paquin, Rosario Dawson, and Brian Cox, as well as a career-best showing from Barry Pepper as Monty's best friend, a hotshot broker bound to the condemned man for one last favor. As always, Lee's
provocative dolly shots, long takes, and collage-like edits make his
camera a vital addition to the cast, able to frame this loss of
innocence in all of the city's familiar corners. And in the film's
memorable coda, Lee does find that magic hour, the home of something he and other shell-shocked Americans desperately need: illogical hope.
By the time In Bruges
hit theaters, the accumulation of recent British gangster movies left
some viewers skeptical whether there'd be anything new here --
especially with Guy Ritchie's RocknRolla
looming on the horizon as yet another dose of the familiar. As it turns
out, setting the action in Belgium is just this film's first important
departure from the status quo. Guided by the sensibilities of an
accomplished Irish playwright, In Bruges is a deep and unexpected breath of fresh air. This is to say nothing of how Martin McDonagh's film enabled the surprise reemergence of Colin Farrell. In Bruges
provided the actor his first Golden Globe nomination and win for the
role of Ray, a small-time wisecracking hood whose botched hit follows
him to the medieval landscape of Bruges, where he and a partner (Brendan Gleeson)
await further instruction. Their relationship is peculiar to the
criminal world, where surface loyalty and a wicked camaraderie are
offset by the tense fragility of changing circumstances and the criminal
code. The two actors have great oil-and-water chemistry and some
hilarious exchanges, but the core of their relationship is the
work-related emotional burdens they share, sensitively rendered by McDonagh. Ralph Fiennes' insertion into this dynamic only increases the complexity and the fun. McDonagh's
Oscar-nominated screenplay consistently has it both ways, balancing the
silly and the serious, and managing its every clever thread with equal
aplomb. The city of Bruges, with its singular architectural scheme, sets
in motion many of the plot's wonderful oddities, unexpected turns, and
quirky characters. But its role is proportionate to McDonagh's
other fine touches, far more than gimmick, far more than pretty scenery
intended to distract the viewer. As it deconstructs the criminal mind
and examines why people do what they do, In Bruges is both funny and poignant.
As early as 1977's epidemic shocker Rabid (in which he coaxed an exceptionally natural performance out of adult film star Marilyn Chambers), Cronenberg
displayed an exceptional proficiency in working with actors, and that
skill is simply amplified with the incredible talent he is able to
procure. Of course, giving Cronenberg total credit would be to slight the likes of such formidable players as seasoned veteran Armin Mueller-Stahl, the volatile Vincent Cassel, quietly intense Naomi Watts, and fearless lead Viggo Mortensen,
so here, as with the majority of his most accomplished work, it's the
work on both sides of the camera that creates something transcendentally
powerful. Cronenberg's new male muse, Mortensen, turns in a fascinating performance as a character who is deeply menacing yet oddly benevolent, while Mueller-Stahl
is absolutely riveting as the grandfatherly crime boss who knows that
the smallest mistakes can lead to the gravest consequences. Likewise, Cassel's performance as Mueller-Stahl's
son -- a potentially psychotic gangster who appears to have finally
gotten himself into a jam even his powerful father can't help him out of
-- eventually proves to be one of the most emotionally complex. His
pivotal scene at a waterside body disposal site provides the film with
one of its most powerful -- and excruciating -- moments.
