It’s easy to make a sad film about the Holocaust; it’s hard to make it small. Some stare straight at the atrocity (Schindler’s List, Sophie’s Choice) and evoke grand emotions, others focus on individuals (Life Is Beautiful) and the triumph of spirit, but almost all are direct and teary-eyed. Which isn’t a bad thing at all — it’s an important way to tell a story, just not the only way.

Ida is pitch black, but it’s decidedly not a tearjerker. The Polish film tells the story an orphan who is about to become a nun. Before taking her vows, she is asked to learn about her parents’ history and decide for herself whether this is the life she wants. But where most would linger on emotions, Ida (both the film and the character) disengages: the camera backs away, intense conversations end abruptly, and tears are replaced with long, blank stares. The result tells a powerful story which is beautifully shot, but (aided by the language barrier) sometimes frustratingly hard to engage with. If you’re patient with it, there’s a lot to love — the quietness makes the big moments feel louder by comparison. But if you don’t think you’ll like it, you’re probably right.

In this ep, Chris and I are livin’ la Ida loca:

With Waltz With Bashir, Ari Folman used animation to accomplish something very specific: to bring the hazy dreams and collective memory of his interviewees to life. Live action could have fallen somewhere between pretentious art house and an episode of Cold Case Files, but it wouldn’t have struck the same chord.

In The Congress, Robin Wright (playing herself) is a washed up actress who is offered her final role: to be scanned by a studio (“Miramount”) and sign away the rights of her digital likeness forever. “Robin Wright” will accept the roles Robin Wright couldn’t, with no ego or self-doubt to interfere with the process. Unfortunately, this film didn’t capture the same magic as its predecessor. If anything it inverted the magic: here Folman took a great Sci-fi concept (the first 30 minutes are captivating, if a little awkwardly acted) and shoved animation where it really didn’t fit. The film leapfrogs over its premise towards its “logical conclusion” immediately and becomes too fluid to follow, sacrificing narrative integrity for a series of beautiful images and dramatic feelings. It devolves into some combination of Waking Life and What Dreams May Come, with a more muddied philosophy and a less-engaging Robin. The high concept and visual style make it worth a watch (if you’re into that sort of thing), but it’s a big disappointment.

Prison dramas aren’t my favorite genre; like war movies, they may be well done and socially necessary, but that doesn’t make them pleasant to sit through. When a film in said genre gets rave reviews for being “hard-hitting” and “queasily realistic”, I expect the gap between “good” and “enjoyable” to be even wider. But if I dreaded my Starred Up viewing experience going in, I was hugely misguided. The film tells the story of Eric Love, a 19-year-old inmate in the U.K. who is preemptively transferred (“starred up”) from juvenile hall to adult prison, where survival is the only goal and “rehabilitation” is a lost cause to the higher-ups. It’s heavy-hitting but never masochistic — while its strive for realism makes it extremely R-rated, it’s far more psychologically intense than it is brutal or depressing. The naturalistic style and powerful themes (the vicious cycle of aggression, how father/son dynamics inform one’s conception of “manliness”, what kind of person is worth saving) made it great, but it’s the acting that made me love it. Like the young dealers in The Wire or Short Term 12’s Marcus, O’Connell’s Eric pulses with intensity in every scene, simultaneously empathetic and terrifying in his vulnerability. And like those works at their best, it doesn’t hold your hand through the exposition: it shines when it pulls the camera back and just lets the characters interact, trusting that you’ll “get it” even if you don’t understand every line.

It’s not remotely for everyone, but I loved this movie. The group therapy scenes were some of the strongest I’ve seen all year. Check it out on iTunes, preferably with subtitles (it’s in English, but…just trust me on that one), and check out the review at:

Museum Hours is pretty much the definition of a slow-burning, critic-pandering film. And maybe it’s just because I spent a day in the Kuntshistoriches Museum this summer and, without the nostalgia factor, I’d find it dull. But as is, I thought this movie was absolutely gorgeous, and probably one of my favorite quiet flicks of 2013. It meanders through the art and culture of Vienna with soul and grace — like a non-romantic, less pretentious Before Sunrise. Alongside the musing conversations and gorgeous cinematography are some imaginative directorial decisions, and beneath the warm-and-fuzzy exterior is a interesting commentary on the art of daily life and the ghosts of history which cling to modern-day Europe. It’s on iTunes available for rental. Wait for a rainy day, grab a nice beer, and feel it.

Check out the trailer

Sometimes art is broadly appealing, and sometimes it’s weird. Sometimes it’s a pretty painting on a chapel ceiling or an arrangement which harmonizes with itself backwards; sometimes it’s a piece of string nailed to a wall or a fragile-voiced guy barking like a dog and singing about his sister Lisa. With the modern shift from “showcasing widely-agreed-upon technical skilll” to “making the audience feel something”, the mythology of the people who create art can become bigger than the thing they create: if Jandek had been on Twitter and Wesley Willis had been a wealthy McDonalds exec with a funny hobby, would something have been lost in the music? Does it matter that they meant it?

“Frank” is the story of an aspiring musician who finds himself thrust into the outsider scene, led by an enigmatic songwriter with a giant fake head. Its trailers make it look like a quirkified Almost Famous, but that A) sets the audience up for disappointment and B) sells the film way too short. Beneath the “indie” exterior is an interesting look at the interplay between creativity and mental illness, the mythos surrounding the people who make art, and what happens when that mythos is packaged and sold. Fassbender’s performance gives Frank serious depth, and while there are plenty of solid laughs, you can’t shake the melancholy. It’s much more The Devil And Daniel Johnston than This Is Spinal Tap. While it might not be for everyone, it’s definitely worth a watch.

There’s a very particular breed of film which strikes a balance between “intimate” and “inventive”; I can probably count the number of recent examples on one hand, and most were written by the same guy. Being John Malkovich, Eternal Sunshine, Synechdoche New York, Moon, Safety Not Guaranteed…

Anything I say about The One I Love would be a spoiler. Even broadly comparing it to those films is sort of a spoiler, but I’ll risk it, because it’s on iTunes and I want you to want to see it. The film is messy, clever, and genuinely surprising, with a wacky spirit that fits right alongside the best of the genre — even if it lacks the maturity which sharpens that spirit to a point. Director Charlie McDowell has interesting ideas and confidence to boot, and if he doesn’t quite reach the heights of the other Charlie, it’s a whole lot of fun to watch him try.

Bleep-filled intro, 10 minute spoiler-free review, and hour long spoiler section below:

On paper, “What If” has all the trappings of a run-of-the-mill “indie” rom com: awkward-but-charming lead, impossibly-successful-and-borderline-manic-pixie-dreamgirl love interest, quip-filled conversations, damaged secondary characters, quirky fascinations which seem to exist solely to be “random”…

Those are all valid criticisms. Probably. I don’t really care, because it was quite a bit better than its tropes. Characters were well-acted and fully realized, there were no “good guys” or “bad guys”, and nearly every moment which felt like it was building up to a cliche wound up subverting it with something fresh. If you’re in a cynical mood, you’ll probably find plenty of things to tear down about What If. But if you’re in the mood for a rom-com, it’s a solid one with an interesting perspective and plenty of love for its characters.

In the year since Snowpiercer’s 2013 international debut, director Bong Joon-Ho has been engaged in a public battle with Harvey Weinstein to keep his creative vision in-tact. Critics rightly sided with the director, and clamored for an unedited U.S. version.

Last month, the film finally had the limited theatrical (and wide VOD) release it deserved, and while I thought his vision was well worth the battle, I’m not convinced it lived up to the heavy praise it was given. The film is set in a post-apocalyptic distopia in which all of humanity is forced to live on a moving train. Social class is dictated by ticket fare, with the proletariat back car starved and oppressed by the Hunger-Games-ish first class, and mysterious engineer Wilford, in front. This concept is original (in specifics if not broad strokes), stylishly executed, and easily the film’s greatest strength. The plot, unfortunately, didn’t reach quite the same heights for me. Characters could almost always be traced back to a well-known Sci-Fi archetype, actions and dialogue felt unmotivated for the first 2/3 of the film, and I can only take so many blood-splattered stabbing sequences before it all feels a little repetitive — regardless of how well-choreographed the stab or how pretty a set piece the blood splattered on. It’s a good movie, and if you liked Equilibrium you’ll probably have fun with it. But don’t go in expecting a masterpiece.

Thanks to Gary from Melbourne for requesting the review, at:

I like to think there exists a parallel universe where God’s Not Dead and Heaven Is For Real were never made, and Father James is the most talked-about faith-centric character of the summer. Three parts In Bruges, one part A Serious Man, and just a dash of Waking Life, Calvary (not, as I thought going in, “Cavalry”) begins in a confessional, where an unknown congregant tells the priest that he will murder him in seven days. While that’s tentatively the “plot”, its real power comes as a catalyst for conversation, as Gleeson’s Father James tries to minister one last time to his varied, depraved congregation. Pitch-black funny, brooding, masterfully acted and surprisingly moving, Calvary asks how one can have faith in a world that may have outgrown it, or forgiveness towards people and hypocritical institutions that don’t deserve a shred of it. The closest thing it has to an answer is to put down the gun, pick up the phone, look depravity in the eye, and listen to it.

I loved this movie. Review below:

With the Dark Knight trilogy, Nolan managed to do the impossible and make a gritty superhero movie. Every attempt to mimic it since then has been clunky and embarrassing (I’m looking at you, Man Of Steel). Marvel has wisely learned to embrace the fun and cartoony over the dark and “real” — its best films (Iron Man, Spiderman*) star quip-filled, imperfect characters, and the more they veer towards Platonic Ideals (Captain America, Thor) facing serious threats, the less obvious it is that they’re in on the joke.

Guardians of the Galaxy is by far the most in-on-the-joke film of the series, but despite the parody vibe its trailers might hint at, it’s also one of the most genuinely exciting. The universe is zany and expansive, the action is legitimately cool, the soundtrack is a blast, and all cast members are in top form. It’s hard to imagine a better blend of humor and sincere comic-book fun, and even harder to imagine a better bighearted (anti?)hero than Chris Pratt to lead the way. It sticks pretty firmly to the comic book formula (don’t let the reviews imply some sort of Lego Movie-style surprise), but within that formula, it’s probably the most fun you’ll have at the movies this summer.

Full review round 2 (after technical difficulties made us scrap the first one) below

(*) I know, I know, Spiderman isn’t really a “Marvel Movie”