Side Effects



With Side Effects, the prolific auteur and indie-film vanguard Steven Soderbergh has announced that he is retiring from directing feature films, capping one of the most versatile and original filmographies ever seen from an independent filmmaker, who managed to eke out an existence within the studio system that mostly afforded him complete artistic control over his films.  That's not to say all of his films are great.  Rather, he was that rare bird in Hollywood, always smarter than his material, and aware that sometimes one has to do the dance in order to do what you really want.  Like John Sayles before him, who would use the money he made script doctoring studio pablum to fund his more personal projects, Soderbergh wallowed in dreck like Ocean's Twelve and Ocean's Thirteen, but then turned around and made a black-and-white nod to German expressionism, and a five-hour biopic of Che Guevera, in the controversial figure's native language no less, and a documentary about Spalding Gray.  Yes, the man who directed twenty-eight motion pictures in only twenty-four years, including several episodes of television drams, is apparently folding up his director's chair, and with Side Effects, his new thriller set against the world of prescription medication, he goes out on top, crafting the very best out of all twenty-eight, and in this critic's eyes, even besting Traffic, his 2000 moment of Oscar glory.

Side Effects is more rewarding the less known about it, insofar as its narrative continues to evolve, focusing on different characters, and different ideas of what it might be about, all which become seamlessly interwoven.  Basically, at the point which we are introduced to the characters, Martin Taylor (Channing Tatum) is being released from prison for insider trading, with his wife Emily (Rooney Mara) and mother (Ann Dowd) anxiously awaiting a return to the life they used to have.  But not too long after his release Emily tries to commit suicide by driving her car head-on into a cement wall, and it is soon revealed that after Martin's imprisonment, issues of depression began to surface, inspiring periods of heavy medication.  She meets Dr. Jonathan Banks (Jude Law) while in the hospital, and becomes his patient, allowing him to prescribe for her different types of medication to find the one that works best for her.  They finally settle on Ablixa, which unbeknownst to them has the unfortunate side effect of sleepwalking, and everyone's life soon gets turned upside-down, including Dr. Banks's, whose ethics and judgment as a doctor begin to come under the microscope, when after one such sleepwalking episode Emily fatally stabs Martin.

The beauty of this film is in how many different thematic strands it is able to juggle at once.  It begins as a thriller about an ex-con who might be getting back into a life of crime.  It then becomes a film about depression, and the potential addictive nature of pharmaceuticals.  It then becomes a cautionary tale about the power and greed, and far-reaching influence of the pharmaceutical industry, in a similar vein to Soderbergh's own Contagion from a few years ago.  And it then becomes a mystery/thriller, but I won't mention any specifics about that.  Ordinarily I might criticize such a film for biting off more than it can chew, tackling one too many issues that pull the film in too many directions to care about any one.  But Soderbergh, and everyone else involved quite easily prove that it doesn't have to go that way.  Writer Scott Z. Burns, who unfortunately succumbed to this problem with Contagion, grafting human emotion onto a far-fetched scenario of a widespread outbreak, succeeds marvelously here because rather than trying to find the personal commentary within a national emergency, he instead begins with the personal, a woman grappling with depression, and then colors the drama with broader strokes of greater significance.  Soderbergh proves a master of suspense, to such great extent that it is regrettable he didn't explore genre films more through his career, as here he finds a perfect rhythm to scenes that very easily could have favored one storyline, or underrepresented another.  It is worth noting that Soderbergh edited the film himself, under the alias of Mary Ann Bernard, which is his mother's name.  Soderbergh also demonstrates a flair for visual motif, perhaps borrowing a few tricks from Hitchcock, the master himself, by manipulating the film's actual focus, or rather, by not adjusting it.  Characters move into and out of focus within the same shot as they walk toward or away from the camera.  First this is used with Emily, becoming a metaphor for her drastic mood changes, where bouts of sadness seem to come from out of nowhere, and later becoming a metaphor for a potential lack of clarity about something from her past, and gradually, as the film opens itself to the other characters, they are also shot this way, especially when patients and partners begin to turn on Dr. Banks, and his motivations suddenly become not so crystal clear.  Normally, rack focus would avoid this, as is done invisibly in most Hollywood films; when it is not done it begs the question why.  Shot also by Soderbergh himself, under the alias of Peter Andrews, his father's name, Side Effects is ultimately the work of someone in complete control artistically and technically, and one of the very few remaining auteurs working in Hollywood.  To take on so many roles and responsibilities behind the camera, with a film that is to be released wide across the country, filmmaking has to be in your blood, and the collection of scenes that make up Side Effects unfold like second nature.

One final, and no less important reason for the film's success, is Rooney Mara.  After spending five years on various television projects and minor films, Mara burst onto the global stage in 2010 with a starring role in The Nightmare On Elm Street remake, and a minor role in The Social Network, as Mark Zuckerberg's "Rosebud," the girl for whose affections he still craved even after becoming the king of the world.  Following that came an iconic turn as Lisbeth Salander in Fincher's remake of The Girl With A Dragon Tattoo, which is now becoming a franchise of its own.  And already now she is in the midst of filming suddenly prolific Terrence Malick's new untitled project.  Mara is a revelation in Side Effects.  The character of Emily is a very deliberate one, and Mara possesses the uncanny ability to turn her emotions on a dime, restraining the conflicts within herself without losing them completely, and then releasing them when they are called upon later.  The real beauty in her performance is in how she embodies Emily's trajectory throughout the film, that left me with the inabilty to imagine any other actress in the role.  That's the sign of a great performance, and Mara is largely responsible for elevating this film to five stars.  Even if you happen to figure out where the film is going, she digs so deep into Emily that you go along for the ride anway, quite happily. 

I loved Side Effects.  It is a generic, run-of-the-mill mystery at its foundation, but Soderbergh, Burns, and the entire cast and crew of Soderberghs have gone so far beyond the film's genre trappings, and have crafted a true work of art.  People have been calling the film a minor effort from Soderbergh, good but not great.  I urge them to take a second look.  Genre films are engrained in our collective psyches as audiences.  They are fantastic forums for filmmakers to take something people have seen a thousand times and make them fresh, as if their stories are being told for the very first time.  For me they are the greatest form of escape from the more rigorous, challenging art films that usually adorn my annual top ten lists.  Most genre films today are content to merely get by, and get your money.  Particular attention should be paid, however, to a flawless example of one.  In many ways they are the hardest form of film to create, as one scene out of place, or a slight interruption in rhythm could severely affect audience involvment.  Side Effects is that rare example, and will stand up to repeat viewings for as long as it takes for Soderbergh's next career evolution to reveal itself.

***** out of *****

Gangster Squad

Mickey Cohen is one gangster who is no stranger to Hollywood.  After being a supporting figure in many successful films, from Warren Beatty’s Oscar winning Bugsy, to Curtis Hanson’s Oscar winning L.A. Confidential, he is finally given a film all his own with Gangster Squad, a curious, yet altogether pointless bit of gangster porn saddled with a January release that is notable more for what it rips off from other films, than for what it achieves on its own.  It’s late 1940’s Hollywood, and the town is succumbing to the influence of Chicago gangster Cohen, and his quickly growing illegal empire, which remains unchallenged in the new west by any of his rivals.  The city is getting desperate, as is police chief Parker (Nick Nolte), who after many unsuccessful attempts to capture Cohen inside the law, decides to form a clandestine group of police officers to go after him outside the law, because that’s how you get Capone, he brings a knife and you bring a gu—oops, sorry, wrong film.

To say Gangster Squad owes much to Brian De Palma’s 1987 film The Untouchables might be the cinematic understatement of the young new year.  What unfolds is a near identical film in its broad strokes, while distinguishing itself in the smaller details of having virtually no ambition and poor writing, hoping instead that a constant barrage of gunfire and cacophony will drown out its ineptness.  Everything you would expect is present and accounted for, from wiseguy accents (a laughably inconsistent Ryan Gosling), female moles (a ridiculously miscast Emma Stone), classic cars, Nostalgic sets, a scenery chewing villain (Sean Penn, giving only what could be expected from a hackneyed director), and of course tommy guns, perhaps the biggest star of the show.  Gangster Squad subscribes to the unfortunate Hollywood preoccupation of late to drown out inconsistencies and a lack of substance with shootouts.  Gangster Squad is not interested in showing what goes on behind the scenes of Cohen's criminal empire, nor is it interested in developing Cohen beyond reactions to the lawmen thwarting his plans.  Penn's reading of Cohen is all bluster.  He's good, but it's the kind of thing Sean Penn can do in his sleep; Cohen has only two modes, cocky and vengeful.  If there's one thing that repeated viewings of The Untouchables should have taught director Reuben Fleischer, it's how to make the most of your villain.  Robert De Niro had barely a fraction of the screentime as Cohen, and yet his presence was consistently felt.  Everybody who has seen that film can instantly recall the dinner scene and the baseball bat.  In Gangster Squad, at the perfunctory scenes where Cohen needs to off one of his henchmen it actually feels like the baseball bat is being used on the audience.  And the gang of lawmen, organized by Sgt. John O'Mara (a woeful Josh Brolin, who has proven that he deserves better) are developed only by contrivances, dictated by cliches.  And the inevitable affair between Gosling and Stone, whose betrayal of Cohen is a matter of necessity in films like this, lacks credibility and chemistry, as it progresses outside of the film's narrative until the end, when it becomes expedient for Cohen to suddenly know what's going on. 

I call this gangster porn because it contains, in abundance, everything that one would expect to see in a typical film cut from this genre, and that is all that it appears to care about.  The film is a series of scenes, ticked off a checklist, and held together by no other reason than the fact that the same people happen to walk into and out of each one.  It's for people who enter the theatre thinking they are going to see a gangster film, and who then leave the theatre thinking they just saw a gangster film.  No more thought is necessary.  The film ends with a gigantic shootout, as if everything that came before was just prologue.  Bullets are exchanged inside a hotel lobby, the two sides separated by a Christmas display, and slow motion is used to show decorative glass balls exploding.  It's a distraction from the scene, a shiny object in a room full of burnished nostalgia, created by someone without any ability, or desire, to focus themselves.  In itself, it is a microcosm of the entire film, a distraction from any sort of legitimate storyline.  It takes its audience for granted, and then takes them for a ride. 

Gangster Squad is as generic as its title, which in a way tells you everything you need to know about the film.  The Untouchables took its name from attributes of central characters in the film, from Capone, who boasted that he was untouchable, to the group of lawmen hunting him down.  Gangster Squad tries the same thing, but it's perfectly happy to never scratch beneath the surface.  At one point in the film a character looks up at the stars and wonders if the squad is really any different than Cohen and his gang, while the audience is left to wonder if Gangster Squad is really any different than any other gangster film.

** out of *****

Texas Chainsaw 3D

In 1974 first-time director Tobe Hooper unleashed one of the greatest horror films of all time, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, which contained one of the first iconic roles of the modern slasher-era of horror films, Leatherface.  The film is a masterwork of its genre, and remains to this day one of the most terrifying films ever made, mostly due to its technical precision in creating a relentless atmosphere of pure, unabashed evil.  Thirty-nine years later, after countless sequels, a remake, and a prequel of a remake, here we are again, with Texas Chainsaw 3D, a film which has the gall to claim to be a direct sequel to the 1974 film, completely ignoring and abandoning any continuing storylines in between.  And the funny thing is, it mostly works.  Tobe Hooper himself recently said this about the film: “Incredible!  A perfectly terrifying follow-up to the original."  And I'm inclined to agree.

The film gets off to a great start by offering, through the opening credits, a montage of scenes from Hooper's original, all converted to 3D, that brings the audience up to speed; it's a perfect way to bridge the gap between the old and the new while grabbing our attention.  The last thing we see of the original is Sally Hardesty escaping, and then the film cuts to a police cruiser en route to the house of horrors to confront the murderous family.  It's pretty seamless.  Soon some bloodthirsty townspeople show up, and what begins as a police officer's plea for Leatherface to surrender, ends with the torching of the house, and the slaughter of the entire family...well almost the entire family.  Fast-forward twenty-some years to Heather Miller, a baby back then and now all grown up, who is bequeathed an estate in Texas by her paternal grandmother, the only known survivor from the blaze.  So Heather and some friends load the car and head for Texas to claim the property, but unbeknownst to them there is someone still living in the house, locked away in the wine cellar, behind a metal door...

And so unfolds Texas Chainsaw's rather serviceable plot, that manages to arrange a carload of twenty-somethings on a road trip towards their demise in a slightly better than careless manner, which has unfortunately become the norm for the genre.  The dialogue is rote, horror film stock, and the actors, ranging from TV talent (Parenthood's Alexandria Daddario and Lost's Tania Raymonde, the French woman's daughter) to music talent (R & B perfromer Trez Songz), deliver it believably enough.  There is actually more story, but I won't spoil it; I was pleasantly surprised by the fact that the point where most horror films surrender to auto-pilot, TC 3D actually had more to say.  One of the conventions of horror films, made a convention I might add by the 1974 original, is that a certain level of restraint can be maintained until the main character finds the first body, at which point restraint becomes impossible.  Here, about half-way through the film Leatherface unleashes his bloody assault on the cast, but Heather escapes, and is picked up by the local sheriff and mayor, who of course were both present back on that fateful day when the course of her life was drastically altered.  From this point there is a marked shift in tone, as Heather learns of the truth of her past, and the line begins to blur between the film's heroes and villains before more blood gets spilled.

And speaking of blood, it should be noted that Texas Chainsaw 3D has quite a lot; director John Luessenhop (Takers) is quite liberal with the stuff, and treats the audience to many graphic dismemberments and disembowelments in three dimensions.  And he maintains a pervading mood of nastiness, which is mostly absent from the contemporary crop of horror films, a wise decision since the film is clean and polished, lacking the grain and grit that was ground into the film stock of the original, a source of its timeless relentlessness.  The film is also mostly humorless, comedy being the death of horror, and usually a crutch whenever a filmmaker has no faith in the source material, a problem that plagued 2012 horror favorite The Cabin In The Woods.  So why sit through a film that is humorless, graphically violent, and downright nasty?  If you have to ask that question you're probably not going to see it anyway.  For my money Texas Chainsaw 3D succeeds as a genre exercise; it is comfortable with itself and doesn't pull its punches.  It was actually shot in 3D, which is amazing, considering something like this could have easily been post-converted; as a point of reference, The Avengers wasn't even shot in 3D.  Ordinarily I am highly critical of the gimmick of 3D.  It tends to ruin films by adding a layer of darkness and dreariness, while giving very little in return.  And post-converting a film lays bare before an audience's eyes the blatancy of Hollywood's desire to separate people from their money above all else.  But for some reason darkness and dreariness did not bother me with Texas Chainsaw 3D.  Go figure.

Is this film going to win any Oscars?  No.  Am I going to remember it, or even care about it six months from now?  Probably not.  Is this going to end up on my top ten list for 2013?  No.  But for ninety minutes in a dark theatre it scared me and thrilled me without boring me.  If you're one of those people who complain that horror films aren't what they used to be, this isn't going to change your mind, but among those that unfortunately define what horror films are today, it is a satisfying and entertaining cut above the average.

*** out of *****