Black Swan (2011)

Director: Darren Aronofsky
Cast: Natalie Portman, Mila Kunis, Vincent Cassel, Barbara Hershey
Rating: ****

“Done to death, but not like this,” promises Thomas (Vincent Cassel), the autocratic leader of the ring, as he seeks to reinterpret Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. You could say the same of Darren Aronofsky’s Black Swan. On its surface, it’s the story of a dedicated young performer yearning to excel and to impress, at the cost of all else. Yes, that’s been done before. So, what’s new? It takes familiar plot lines, uses the conventionally pretty, cheerful backdrop of ballet, and twists it into a sinister psychological thriller that is deeply moving and haunting.

Aronofsky’s characters are often driven by some preternatural, obsessive impulse (Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler), and none more so than the sensitive, fragile young dancer, Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman). The ballet is her life, she knows nothing else. Apparent rejection almost breaks her, and a shot at her dream role leads her to unforeseen madness. Dressed in white, she is the pure, virginal white swan. For the role, though, she must find the dark black swan within. She does, but in a maniacal, self-destructive way.

The demon in her head, however, has always existed. The scratch marks are evidence of an old habit. Her mother’s (Barbara Hershey) unnatural protectiveness indicates something is wrong. Her pink and white room is like a fortress, the stuffed toys and miniature ballerina in it are talismanic. As she transforms, this world falls apart.

Meanwhile, a new dancer, Lily (Mila Kunis) proves to be everything she aspires to be—uncontrolled, instinctive, sexual. Nina identifies her as a natural rival. The line between reality and schizophrenic dream blur as she imagines making out with her (unfortunately, Indian audiences may see an edited version), and eventually, killing her.

This is Portman’s film. And you can tell she’s worked hard. She’s noticeably lost weight, and trained hard to learn ballet. Camerawork can perhaps mask flaws, but Portman can pirouette, and my untrained eye can’t tell if she’s imperfect. As an actor, she is brilliant, going from edgy and diffident to maniacal and possessed. She scares you, makes you cringe as she effortlessly pulls the skin off her finger or stares back as the alter ego in the mirror. As she sprouts wings mid-stage, her tragic transformation is complete. It’s dark and oddly beautiful.

Aronofsky’s film is a warped, extreme vision. Yet, the exaggerated pains and desires Nina manifests are rooted in the human psyche: The black must exist if the white does. Black Swan makes you disturbingly aware of that.

- Sarit Ray

This review was originally written for gqindia.com (Click here to see...)

True Grit (2011)

Directors: Ethan Coen, Joel Coen
Cast: Hailee Steinfeld, Jeff Bridges, Matt Damon
Rating: **

The classic Westerner must appeal to American audiences for obvious reasons. It’s about their history, and celebrates emotions they relate to—a gun-toting bravado, the preservation of honour, a knack for business and a canny, street-smart way of living. Plus, the Cowboy accent, I’m guessing, is easier on their ears.

The effect it has on an Indian audience is what an angry-young man Amitabh Bachchan would have on an American audience. The natural connect is missing. That apart, the revenge plot, the good guy-bad-guy motif, and the eventual justice of the gun is a story that’s been told before.

Yet, what it manages to do successfully is put a woman, a 14-year old eccentric character (Hailee Steinfeld as Mattie Ross) at that, where conventionally a man would be. She is the eyes of the film, and a thoroughly fascinating character. She subverts the concept of the ingénue—leaving the mourning to her mother back home in Yell County, she takes up the responsibility of going after he father’s killer. She can drive a hard bargain, roll a perfect cigarette and ride a horse across a swift river. Rooster Cogburn (Jeff Bridges) is the man she hires—a veteran US Marshal with an eye patch and a high body count. Matt Damon as the Texas ranger La Boeuf, stands in contrast to the flawed whisky-drinking “fat man” of Cogburn.

Josh Brolin as the bad ass Tom Chaney has no introduction or back story. Off screen, he lends the film its motive. On screen, he appears briefly to fulfil his purpose of getting shot.

It pans out the way all Westerners do. A chase for the bad guys through a rugged landscape, gunshots along the way, and a final showdown where the outnumbered heroes somehow come out on top. The final act of bravery comes when Cogburn saves the girl who is bitten by a snake. The retribution (a theme stated on the film’s poster) is complete.

The 1969 version of True Grit is supposedly memorable for the charisma of a veteran actor, John Wayne. This literal retelling 40 years later isn’t the best Coen Brothers film I have seen. Their usual brand of wry humour and ability to reinterpret a genre is missing. But if it is remembered for anything, it should be for a sparkling performance by a newcomer.

-Sarit Ray

This review was originally written for gqindia.com (Click here to see...)

Sanctum (2011)

Director: Alister Grierson
Rating: **

It made marketing sense to sell the movie as ‘James Cameron’s Sanctum’, but it’s really directed by Alister Grierson and written by Andrew Wight (the film is a much-exaggerated version of their so-called true story). Cameron's role as executive producer simply delivers the high-quality 3D that you either loved in Avatar, or that gave you a headache. Sadly, clearer images and a big name do little to save what is essentially uninspired, one-dimensional storytelling.

The film begins with a spectacular five-minute helicopter ride, the primary purpose of which seems to be to show off Cameron's 3D technology and the stunning location, the Esa-ala caves in Papua New Guinea. The rest of the film is shot in dark caves, with water gushing in from all sides. It's reminiscent of sequences from Titanic, except it’s a cyclone and the cave didn’t get punctured by an iceberg.

Absurd plot points abound, though, as the trapped divers (including the boss’ girlfriend, who inexplicably, has no diving experience) must now find a way out. But don't hope for a gritty story of human survival: Sanctum is the rehashed formula of a predictable thriller, where the characters are killed off one by one with little significance.

Frank (Richard Roxburgh) is the leader of the gang; a father who repairs his relationship with his son Josh (Rhys Wakefield) amid the mix of murky waters, mercy killings and a loosely relevant Coleridge poem. Carl (Ioan Gruffudd) is the rich sponsor, and the only man who seems to have any character transformation in the face of a crisis. Struggling to cope with loss and imminent death, he reacts like a madman - although that also fizzles out with a fistfight and, of course, another unnecessary death.

Thanks to the endless sequence of caves, the audience is left just as lost and disoriented as the film’s characters. There are spectacular shots, assisted by 3D, that deserve credit. But far from the imaginary world of Pandora, even the scope for dazzling VFX is restricted in a cramped space.

You hope for the salvation of a climax, but that too plays out predictably. The final audience connect is unintentionally ironic — the gladness of having survived the ordeal.

- Sarit Ray

This review was originally written for gqindia.com (Click here to see...)

Review: 127 Hours

Director: Danny Boyle
Cast: James Franco
Rating: ****

Perhaps the only thing more astonishing than Danny Boyle’s telling of this story is the fact that it’s true. Aron Ralston (James Franco) is an engineer who sets off alone on a hiking trip to Blue John Canyon without informing anyone. But things don’t go as planned when, after an accident, he finds one arm bizarrely trapped under a boulder.

The story is well-known, told in several TV interviews and an autobiography, Between a Rock and a Hard Place. It makes the director’s job harder. There’s no climactic suspense to work towards. No shock to evoke at the moment Ralston decides to hack off his arm to save himself after a five-day ordeal. If anything, there’s an uneasy anticipation throughout of that very moment. Yet, 127 Hours doesn’t just document the pain, the sense of impending death and the desperation of a truly brave man. It also manages to entertain.

Most of the film is shot in one cramped location. Boyle breaks it up with occasional flashbacks and expansive shots of the canyon. For the most part though, it’s just Ralston looking into the camera and talking. It doesn’t sound exciting, but Franco brings to the role an amazing ability to emote using just facial expressions.

Ralston, we learn, is a practical man. After chipping at the rock for a while, he realises it’s causing it to settle even more, so he abandons it. His understanding of inevitable death isn’t dramatic either. He simply records his struggle on a handycam, leaving his parents a memoir. His calculated effort to document things borders on the obsessive. So after five days, when he does manage to sever his arm, after breaking the bone deliberately, and sawing it off using a ‘made in China’ multi-tool, he has the presence of mind to take a picture. If we had been witnessing fiction, we would have blamed the director for going overboard here. But Aron Ralston exists. And he still treks.

It’s the incredible story of an incredible man. And it’s told skilfully. Boyle is far from the mad, crowded world ofSlumdog. Yet he is in his zone, capturing pain, suffering and the fundamental human instinct of survival. You feel Ralston’s loneliness, his desperation, you laugh with him as he displays a sense of humour under ironic circumstances, comparing his urine (that he will have to consume after water runs out) to Sauvignon Blanc. What you don’t possibly feel is his pain; but yet you grimace with him.

And when you walk out, you feel happy to be alive; for once, you don’t mind the crowded streets of Mumbai, even if the people around are strangers. Rarely does a film manage to do that.

- Sarit Ray

This review was originally written for gqindia.com (Click here to see...)

Review: The Green Hornet (2011)

Director: Michel Gondry
Cast: Seth Rogen, Jay Chou, Christopher Waltz, Cameron Diaz
Rating: *

The shortest review of The Green Hornet would simply have to read: rather random. The comic superhero genre in Hollywood is becoming a bit like the ‘90s Bollywood formula film (with better costumes and no Govinda, of course). It sells, so everyone wants to make one. Alas, Michel Gondry (the man who directed the sublime Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and the hilarious Be Kind Rewind), we discover, is no Christopher Nolan. And I’d be really surprised to see The Green Hornet get a sequel.

You’ve come to expect any movie with Seth Rogen to be funny. What you don’t expect it to be is tedious. The Green Hornet lines up all the set pieces of a classic superhero movie and tries to run them down with a bowling ball. You have a self-serious-superhero-meets-frat-boy in Britt Reid (Rogen); a role reversal between the bumbling front man and the punching-kicking-weapons-building Man Friday/side-kick (Jay Chou as Kato); even a mockery of the homoerotic bromance between the two (“He is my platonic friend,” says Reid). It works till a point. Before it degenerates into CGI sequences and randomly picked fights where a lot of glass is broken and entire labs and archaic press offices (Who has a printing press at the office anymore?) are trashed.

The source material is from a 1930s radio show that was adapted into a TV show that ran for a single season in the ’50s. The highlight of that show was Bruce Lee’s introduction to Western audiences as Kato. He became so popular that it was marketed as The Kato Show in Hong Kong. Gondry’s version gives Kato no such scope. Sure, he dominates every fight sequence, beats the hell out of Reid in a scene and rides a custom V-Rod Harley. But he is short-changed by Reid’s histrionics, long dialogues and general buffoonery. Cameron Diaz as the on-off secretary Lenore Case is nothing more than a cameo. The funniest act is by Christopher Waltz as the villain with a funny Russian name (of course), a bad sense of style and a worse sense of humour. He totes a double-barrel pistol and delivers corny lines with a straight face.

Some things in the film are cool, but are as insignificant as the leaf Kato manages to shape on the cappuccino foam, or the door-mounted gun on the classic superhero car.

Overall, it’s half-baked-slapstick-meets-masked-vigilante-exploits. And while the 3D doesn’t give you a headache, it doesn’t add value either. In the end, you’re left wishing you actually were Rogen in The Green Hornet (with his garage full of cool cars and gadgets). That way, you’d at least have had some fun.

- Sarit Ray

This review was originally written for gqindia.com (Click here to see...)