The Gift
by Richard Ades
Joel Edgerton is determined to set our nerves on edge with The Gift, and he succeeds pretty well. The writer/director/co-star knows just how to push the audience’s collective buttons.
The tale revolves around Simon and Robyn (Jason Bateman and Rebecca Hall), who no sooner move into their new California home than they run into one of the husband’s old classmates: Gordo. Thanks to Edgerton’s subtly creepy portrayal, we instantly distrust this guy—to the extent that our stomachs tighten a little when Gordo overhears the couple’s new address.
Sure enough, he’s soon showing up unannounced, invariably when Robyn is home alone. Annoyed, Simon recalls that Gordo was always a “weirdo” and suggests that he has the hots for the pretty Robyn. She, on the other hand, thinks he’s just trying to be helpful.
Robyn, as we eventually learn, is not an accomplished judge of character.
As Gordo’s behavior grows more and more erratic, director Edgerton builds tension by supplying a series of shocks constructed in the time-honored fashion: He primes us with scenes of quiet dread followed by a sudden sight or sound. These are fun, especially when experienced with a vulnerable audience.
But Edgerton’s goal ultimately extends beyond eliciting Pavlovian responses. We learn that Simon has more history with Gordo than he’s willing to admit. It’s an ugly history that Simon would like to forget and that Gordo is unable to let go.
Frankly, there’s a bit of a disconnect between the early scenes, with their stock shocks, and the third act, with its unexpected complexity. That’s one of the few signs that this first-time director has more to learn.
A bigger disappointment is that the tale’s female lead is less interesting than her male counterparts.
Edgerton’s Gordo, as stated, is wonderfully creepy, while Bateman’s Simon has a tendency toward ruthlessness that becomes increasingly obvious as the story unfolds. As for Hall’s Robyn, we never quite get a handle on her.
We know she’s an accomplished interior designer, mostly because her husband tells us she is. We also know she has a history of pregnancy-related trauma and addiction. But she mainly comes across as simply a woman in danger—more of a plot device than a flesh-and-blood character.
Hall makes her watchable, but Edgerton’s script fails to make her knowable. The result: Even though The Gift continually scares us and surprises us, it never quite moves us.
Tangerine
by George Wolf
“Merry Christmas Eve, b*&^%!”
Holiday greetings from Tangerine, an irresistibly wild dive into the dramatic lives of two transgender hookers in LA.
It’s the night before Christmas, and creatures of the night are stirring. The manic Sin-Dee (Kitana Kiki Rodriquez) has just gotten out of jail and is looking to reconnect with Chester (James Ransone), her boyfriend-slash-pimp. But when her best friend Alexandra (Mya Taylor) lets it slip that Chester’s been unfaithful with a “fish” (“yes, a real woman, b*&$#, with a vagina and everything!”), Sin-Dee sets out to track them both down and demand some answers.
Meanwhile, local cabbie Razmik (Karren Karagulian) is eager to resume his business relationship with Sin-Dee, and he ignores his extended family during a Holiday get-together to focus on his secret life. Offended, Razmik’s mother-in-law hits the streets on her own quest to uncover exactly what it is her son-in-law is hiding.
Filming the entire movie via iPhone on location in West Hollywood, director/co-writer Sean Baker has not only created an authentic, in-the-moment slice of life, but also a film that nearly explodes with vitality.
Most of all, Tangerine feels urgently original. The “iPhone movie about transgender hookers” angle may get attention, but Baker’s storytelling is rock solid. There are amateurish moments to be sure, but the film becomes downright artful, pulling you completely into its world with unforgettable characters you care about almost instantly.
Beyond the craziness of daily life “on the block,” Tangerine is also genuinely moving. We feel for Alexandra as she struggles to attract an audience for her Christmas Eve nightclub performance, and ache for Sin-Dee when a hateful act from a carload of bigots leaves her unable to hide the vulnerability underneath her defiant personality.
It’s brash and daring, funny, subversive, insightful and poignant. Really, there are countless reasons to see Tangerine.
Pick one.
Irrational Man
by Hope Madden
It’s always exciting when the next Woody Allen movie screens, but it’s best to keep expectations in check. Remember, for every Midnight in Paris, there’s a Cassandra’s Dream; for every Vicky Cristina Barcelona, there’s a Scoop.
The question is, on which side of that coin will his latest, Irrational Man, fall?
As is generally the case, Allen draws an exceptional cast. In this go-round, the always magnificent Joaquin Phoenix plays Abe Lucas, an alcoholic philosophy professor entrenched in an existential crisis. To his aid come the fresh, bright undergrad Jill (Emma Stone), and understanding, morally loose professor, Rita (Parker Posey). But their attention isn’t enough – Abe doesn’t feel himself again until he finds purpose.
What’s his purpose? Or more to the point, what’s Allen’s purpose? It’s to spin a familiar, albeit black, joke about the relative morality of getting away with murder.
Allen’s premise is actually fairly slight and not at all unique, but he pads it with loads of philosophical ponderings. We wrestle with the existential toxin of inaction, the impotence (literal and figurative) of writing instead of doing, and the messy leap from strictly philosophical ideals to life in a real, concrete world.
Irrational Man would sink into verbal tricks and intellectual nonsense were it not for three compelling, grounded performances and Allen’s sudden interest in Hitchcock.
Phoenix and Stone deliver something both pretentious and earnest enough to befit the project. Being from Allen’s pen, there’s something in their May/December relationship that works as both self-deprecation and excuse.
Posey steals every scene with a slyly comical and perfectly realized character.
The film slogs a bit through its first act, but gradually picks up steam, offering a bemused and somewhat detached observation of a mystery as it unfolds.
Though the film is listed as a drama, in many ways it is one of Allen’s cosmic jokes, and not just because he’s again toying with how to get away with murder. It’s more the laugh of, what would it be like if Woody Allen made a Hitchcock movie?
The Tribe (Plemya)
by George Wolf
Whatever the outcome, you’ve got to give a filmmaker some props for trying something most audiences have never seen before.
Miroslav Slaboshpitsky does just that with The Tribe, and the results are damn near unforgettable.
His film follows a teenager trying to fit in at a Ukrainian boarding school for the deaf, and is filmed entirely in Ukrainian sign language with no captions, apparently to appease those picky American audiences that don’t like subtitles.
In all seriousness, it is an incredible piece of storytelling, particularly with Slaboshpitsky himself being an outsider on his own set. A sign language interpreter was needed to communicate with his cast members, but all deliver deeply affecting performances, and the lack of spoken expressions only enhances narrative layers in Slaboshpitsky’s ambitious script.
From the start, Slaboshpitsky’s focus is on the new boy at school, and the social hierarchy he must navigate to be accepted by the clique of boys on the top rung. The wide-eyed boy makes good progress, but then falls for a girl he shouldn’t, which sets off a dangerous, sometimes brutal chain of events.
Slaboshpitsky’s camera is unforgiving, driving home the primal instincts that nearly leap off the screen. The landscape, including the school facilities, is harsh, and the entire film uses a limited number of shots, often with extended, wide-angle takes to enhance the resonance of what you’re witnessing.
You quickly realize how little the spoken word is needed, and this power struggle could just as easily be at work in a board room, drug cartel or wild animal kingdom. No character action is explained, thus the sum of all parts is a basic quest to adapt to your surroundings and survive.
The Tribe is gripping, dead-silence-when-the-credits-start-rolling-stuff. It is unlike anything you’ve seen, and a film experience that should not be missed.
Read more of our reviews at MaddWolf.com!