12 Years a Slave

In this stark and boldly oppressive tale, the only thing perhaps more harrowing than the protagonist's journey to survive false enslavement and torture is director Steve McQueen's brazen way of depicting it in the most honest and, quite often, deeply uncomfortable, yet cinematically applaudable manner.

12 Years a Slave is based on the memoir of the same title by Solomon Northup - an African American, living in New York, who was born free, kidnapped, sold into slavery, and kept in bondage for 12 years in the antebellum South.

In the film, Solomon (Chiwetel Ejiofor), a talented violinist, is hoaxed by two men claiming to be searching for musicians, who escort him to dinner and take advantage of him in his inebriated state. Solomon wakes up chained to a wall and told that he is no longer a free man. The rest of the film follows his journey working under the ownership of different slave-holders for the next 12 years of his life.

Solomon's survival is fueled by his desire to reunite with his wife and two children in New York but is tested by his own intelligence and often fool-hardiness. Solomon is an intelligent man, who has to hide his literacy from each master. At times, his intelligence gets the best of him and challenges a vapid-minded white man for faulty instructions -- this scene is cheer-inducing in the short run, but breath-holding-ly painful in the long run.

McQueen (Shame, Hunger) is not shy with his depictions of slavery; Beatings, whippings, rapes, hangings and other tortures are shown explicitly and unapologetically. Like Shame and Hunger, McQueen employs the long-take to capture such heinous acts in the most realistic and uncomfortable manner. There's nothing docile or, in the opposite extreme, overtly-gratuitous for the sake of it in these scenes -- they just...are.

McQueen's camera is often poetic, even ironic, capturing the enticingly open Louisiana sky. In one scene, Ejiofor breaks the fourth wall, by looking at the camera in a slow sweeping gaze - Ejiofor's haunting and pleading eyes gaze at us for a few seconds, before looking off camera again. This is similar to a scene in McQueen's Shame, where his sex-addict protagonist stares at the camera during an unemotional three-some. It's heartbreaking.

The film lacks on exposition and characterization in the beginning. We only see a few scenes of Solomon with his family, before he is surreptitiously whisked away. That's expected, though, with a film encompassing a long narrative time frame. Solomon's sorrow and bereavement, however, are not lost on us, which is the crucial part.

What is astounding, however, are the gritty performances. Ejiofor has a solemn and serious disposition, disrupted by weighty outbursts. He is completely vulnerable - physically and emotionally. By the end of the film, he appears as a man who's been through Hell and back, but maybe that's his settlement. "I don't want to survive," he states. "I want to live."

Paul Dano plays Tibeats, a hot-headed slave driver who has it out for Solomon and sings a deplorably nasty song (that I hope doesn't catch on). Tibeats' volatile and creepy persona draw comparisons to Dano's performance in There Will Be Blood, where he played a God zealot with greedy intentions. Here, Dano's portrayal of such an abominable character is superb. Somehow, we've come to love to hate him.

Among the many wonderful performances, none come close to Michael Fassbender's portrayal of Edwin Epps, a cotton plantation owner and a drunk who takes joy in waking his slaves in the middle of the night and making them dance, tiredly, in his lavish Southern home. Fassbender's magnetic off-screen charm is completely lost here. Epps is a deranged man with little self control and his uneasy physical proxemics to his slaves make him all the more creepy.

Unfortunately the soundtrack is not as memorable. Hans Zimmer's score is, in the moment, potent but tragically forgettable thereafter. At best, it appropriately ornates the story without overpowering it. Sometimes the most powerful scenes are ones accompanied by deafening silence, because they're usually a cacophony of emotions.

At its worst, the film is long and depressing. At its best, it's emotional and unnerving. There's little sense of resolution or cause for joy at the end. There's nothing uplifting about this film but that's the point, isn't it? The melancholic ending demonstrates that there is little to erase the tragedies that have occurred.

There's no forgetting this film either. Each scene is like sipping a cold pint of Southern-brewed sobriety. By the end, we're intoxicated with our country's shameful history.

Rating: A

Dominik and Pitt team up again

We see a man walk into an empty stadium, trash flying around him. In the background we hear senator of Ill., at the time, Barack Obama giving a speech, calling for change, harshly juxtaposed with the opening credits. In the background, we see a billboard of then senator John McCain and Obama. Right away we know this film isn't just about crooks and gangsters.

Killing Them Softly marks writer/director Andrew Dominik's third film and second collaboration with Brad Pitt. Pitt plays Jackie Cogan, an enforcer of sorts who comes in to clean up a card game robbery by two amateurs. Ray Liotta (Goodfellas) plays Markie Trattman, the mob member who hosts the card games and who everybody thinks staged the robbery, because he had drunkenly stated he was responsible for the last robbery. Of course, no one cared, because, hey, everyone likes Markie. But this leaves him open and vulnerable for anyone who figures out he'll be the one the mob comes looking for first. However, the guys hired to clean out the card game aren't exactly "clean," despite the dish washing gloves they wear. "You'll take what you can get," one of them says to the other before putting on their pantyhose masks.

Scoot McNairy and Ben Mendelsohn play Frankie and Russell, respectively. Although they have the most screen time, it's Pitt's face you see plastered on promotional posters. Dominik employs Pitt's star quality like he did with 2007's The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, playing the iconic Ford. Pitt is just as mysterious and ominous here. In his first scene in the film, we see him park his car and walk towards a construction site. We don't even see his face until a few shots later. We see his back and feet all to the tune of Johnny Cash's "The Man Comes Around;" yeah, we know he's important.

McNairy, last seen in this year's Argo, and Mendelsohn, The Dark Knight Rises, play very well off each other, bouncing off obscenities and girl problems off one another. Mendelsohn is perhaps the stand out, portraying a dirty heroine addict with too much confidence and an interest in dogs.

Throughout the film's entirety we see and hear Obama giving a speech on some television in the background; we hear then president George W. Bush and commentators discussing the nation's economy on the car radio while our enforcer goes to make a hit. In one scene, Pitt comments on Obama's words, saying we are not all equals. The classification of socio-economic groups separates those who are financially stable from the rest trying to make a living. Here, the crooks and robbers are us, just trying to make enough today for tomorrow. In one scene James Gandolfini (oh yeah, he's in it too) tells a hooker the money's on the table. "No tip?" she asks and he proceeds to tell her if she wants a tip to orally position a contraceptive device next time. The economy's hard on everyone, I suppose. Pitt crosses a street towards a bar to meet Frankie and we see a man get shot over what appeared a turf war. During an early scene, Pitt looks out a car window and says "there's a plague coming." But that plague is already present.

Softly oozes with political innuendos, social ideologies and economical undertones, well not so much undertones--they're pretty easy to catch, which makes the film that much more entertaining. But perhaps one of the best aspects is Dominik's directing style; he obviously loves long scenes and interesting camera maneuvers. We see Frankie go in and out of focus after Russell shoots heroine. There's also a very stylized stop light shoot out shot oddly romantically. The use of sound is also something to admire. Pitt and Gandolfini's characters meet at a bar, and Gandolfini begins talking about his soon-to-be ex-wife and we faintly hear a woman's voice in the audio mix. He puts on his yellow-tint glasses and the process very subtly sounds like the cock of a pistol. It's all stylized and intentional.

Killing Them Softly is based on the book "Cogan's Trade," by George V. Higgins. The film also stars Richard Jenkins (Cabin in the Woods).

This may not be up for any awards this season, but watch out for Dominik in the future. He's on the path to success, even if our economy isn't.

Rating: A-

Moneyball hits it out of the park

     If you're not a fan of the sport, it's hard to imagine sitting through a two plus hour film about the dynamics and statistics of baseball and actually care about it, but Moneyball manages to do just that and leave you with a new found respect for the game.

     Brad Pitt (Inglourious Basterds) stars as Billy Beane, an ex-Oakland A's player, who got the opportunity of a lifetime when he was drafted, and eventually turned General Manager for the team. Beane is looking to save his team from another season of losses. He wants to re-strategize, get rid of current players and switch them for new ones, but he doesn't quite know the right trajectory to take.

     That's where Peter Brand (Jonah Hill, Superbad) comes in. He's a Yale graduate, with a degree in Economics and a quiet, but powerful appreciation for the sport. It seems unorthodox to hire Peter to pick new players based on mathematics and statistics, but that's exactly what Beane does. He knows he's taking a chance, but in his position he has little to loose.

     It's difficult convincing everyone else at first, when they're used to the accepted practice of hiring players based on hits, pitch speed and how much they're worth, according to the industry. But Beane believes he doesn't need to pay $7 million for a player, based on Brand's calculations, when he can get a good player for a fraction of that. And considering Beane's budget, he doesn't have much of a choice.

     Not everyone is on board with the new tactic, especially not the A's coach Art, played by Philip Seymour Hoffman (Capote).  Beane just wants the coach to give some of the players a chance, but Art is not about to let the GM tell him how to coach a team.

     The film is a constant struggle and battle of wills. You wonder if the team will ever be the dream team Beane wanted to put together, if Brand's math is the right injection needed to give the Oakland team a much needed boost and if you're like me: you'll care at all about a sports film? I can't answer the first two, but it's a clear yes for the latter.

     Directed by Bennett Miller (Capote), the film effortlessly infuses baseball knowledge with a story about overcoming obstacles that is never boring or too pretentious for those who know little about the sport. In fact, you don't even have to have any prior knowledge about the favorite past-time. That's thanks to a clever and smart script (based on the book by Michael Lewis) by Aaron Sorkin (fresh from accepting his Oscar from last year's The Social Network), who not only makes it easy to understand the lingo and what's going on, but makes it fun to watch.

     Pitt is the powerhouse behind the film; his character has a sturdy determination and firm approach to everything he does, but hearing him talk about the romantics of baseball is perhaps the finest point in the film. He says, "It's hard not to be romantic about baseball." It's obviously not just a past-time, it's a lifestyle for both those in the industry and fans of the sport. And for those who've seen it, it's hard not to be romantic about this film.

Rating: A