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The whole notion of child sexuality, and how it is further complicated by abuse and neglect, is addressed with courage and admirably stylized grace in Gregg Araki's best movie to date.Īs in Mysterious Skin, the latest gritty haiku from Argentina's Lucrecia Martel (La Ciénaga) dares to posit juveniles as carnal creatures, and it casually throws Christianity and mother love into the darkly satisfying mix. Who's got the coke?įor her sophomore effort, after the sublime Taste of Others, French director Agní¨s Jaoui examines the convergence of fame, talent, and family in this amusing yet unsparing tale of a big-shot writer who ignores his homely daughter, at a cost to both their souls. coproduction to be proud of, especially since director Michael Dowse was smart enough to give the title role to killer comic Paul Kaye.
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The title made people think Harlequin Romance, but this tale of lesbian infatuation and class warfare in rundown rural Britain is an unsentimental gem.įinally, a deaf-deejay movie we can all have a larf over. And Jeff Daniels, as the bearded patriarch, gets to show what he's made of. In which the kind of New York-intellectual family that looks so interesting from the outside gets zoologically dissected.
You could say Ang Lee's latest is a gay-cowboy drama, but sexuality is just another word for loneliness and thwarted dreams in a tale made unforgettable, more than anything else, by Heath Ledger's heartbreaking portrayal of a man whose spirit is locked in unforgiving skin. Maybe it's just that the people driven to make them really have something to say, or are at least using voices we haven't already heard to death.Ī mess, yes, but a mess that strives to explicate a panoply of ills currently befalling all corners of our globe, starting from the places where they pump oil, or "Texas tea" as it's known to Boss Hogg and the Washington Hillbillies. I couldn't begin to explain why so many of the strongest films of this impressive movie year had gay or transgressive themes, or why they are more anarchic than good, at times. Special mention must be made, as could happen come Oscar time, of Naomi Watt's cloche-hatted work in King Kong sure she's the female lead, but look at what she's up against in the male category! We shouldn't forget the fact that she radiated heat and intelligence while playing to a green screen and a guy in a gorilla suit. Same goes for Amy Adams, who brought giggly pathos to the cautious pastoralism of Junebug. In cases like A History of Violence, the overall tonal effect is more remarkable than any individual performance, and yet Maria Bello's supporting work gave needed humanity to an otherwise cool Cronenbergian essay. Even more enduring, if far less lucrative, statements were made by Terrence Howard, who was both a rage-filled pimp in Hustle & Flow and a castrated factotum in Crash. Steve Carell carried no such burdens in The 40-Year-Old Virgin, a movie that could not exist without him. That impact is made more remarkable when you realize they were playing overly familiar public figures, and you then look to the limitations of Joaquin Phoenix's Johnny Cash in Walk the Line. from David Strathairn's slightly askew Edward R. One can't separate Capote from the chillingly acute portrayal by Philip Seymour Hoffman, nor Good Night, and Good Luck. In some cases, the specific gravity of the actors themselves gave import to a movie that otherwise might not seem so crucial. And they are both portraits of wounded masculinity, if you care to think about it-as is Joseph Gordon-Levitt's unsentimentally slouching portrayal of a teen hustler in Mysterious Skin. The importance of performances associated with titles mentioned here, whether it be Heath Ledger in Brokeback Mountain or Bruno Ganz as Der Fí¼hrer in Downfall, would seem to be self-evident. Looking back on the bumper crop of 2005, most of the movies that stand out-or at least won't be forgotten by spring-do so because of the men and women who bring enough meaning to the big screen to make it still matter. But where Lilian Gish and John Gilbert had silver- haloed fairy dust to protect and project their magic, today's film stars are ever more exposed to the unforgiving glare of increasingly fickle audiences. Well, they still have faces today, be they Botoxed, laminated, and surgically or prosthetically enhanced for their high-definition closeups. "We had faces back then," Gloria Swanson's character famously said in Sunset Boulevard.