Cold in July Review

Jim Mickle’s screen adaptation of Joe R. Lansdale’s novel Cold in July was every bit as misleading as its title. I was expecting a suspenseful, psychological thriller and instead the audience endured a 109-minute film with identity crisis issues. The curtain rises with Michael C. Hall as Richard Dane, a timid and unimpressive framer struggling to provide for his young family. After shooting and killing a home intruder, we follow Richard as he uncovers an unexpected mystery surrounding his victim. Hall provided comedic relief throughout the film as he fumbled around like a Hardy boy looking for clues, but his dramatic acting talent was mistakenly underused. We’re introduced to Sam Shepard as Richard’s victims vengeful father, but again poor screenplay adaptation left his talent sitting in the dust. Don Johnson is the third vigilante/private investigator added to the mix as Jim Bob Luke, a Texas outlaw playboy. The three stumble around aimlessly seeking justice in a film that varies between comedy, father and son drama, and a horror flick. Besides an impressive score, the movie let a potentially interesting story and undeniable talent run cold.

The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby: Them Review

“All the lonely people

Where do they all come from

All the lonely people

Where do they all belong?”

Besides a quick lyric delivered by Viola Davis, the Beatle’s classic is never heard in Ned Benson’s impressive debut at Cannes. The film tried to answer John Lennon’s question on its own.

The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby: Them premiered in Certain Regard as a brand new 123 minute cut of the original 191-minute version, told from ‘Him’ and ‘Her’ perspectives.  Standing 68 minutes lighter, the film had some minor pacing and development issues, but still told an authentic and touching story of a young couple dealing with tragic loss.

We watch the couple’s relationship reel and crumble in classic alternating p.ov.s. from Conor (James MCavoy) and Eleanor (Jessica Chastain), who both deliver moving, yet very different performances. Chastain is nervous and tough, sometimes even irritating, yet broken by life’s missed opportunities and destruction. MCavoy is lovable, emotional and expressive, dealing with things the best way he knows how.

Their reactions to loss are very different; perhaps gender specific, and it seemed to be the catalyst in the marriage’s end. “He went soft and I stayed hard.” A telling line, it examines an interesting gender-role reversal, and I found myself wishing the ‘Them’ version explored it more thoroughly. It only made me want to see the ‘Him’ and ‘Her’ versions more.

The pair’s differences create a palpable energy when they appear on screen together. In joyous, happy scenes and even tension-filled car rides the two were believable and relatable as a couple struggling through the realities of love and heartbreak. The audience, despite blind to the circumstances, seemed to feel the loss with them.

In a particular scene the two sit in the floor of the apartment they used to share and cry in silence; no dialogue was necessary. Their connection felt real and the vulnerability radiated, and MCavoy and Chastain really hooked me then. I remember trying to sum up my feelings after the film and it was adequately captured with one: melancholy. I truly liked the couple, and to watch them pull apart and lose each other was difficult. For a first time director, Benson tells an impressive story that I predict will really hit home for many viewers.

The supporting characters carried their weight as well. As Conor struggles to make ends meet he’s forced to move in with his tortured, former playboy father, (played by a wonderfully witty Ciaran Hinds), the veteran in the New York restaurant scene. Eleanor also heads home to live with her French mother (Isabelle Hupert), who shares that she “never wanted to have children” as she drowns her disappointment at life’s missed opportunities with glasses of wine. Her father (Willliam Hurt) is a college professor and therapist who is sensitive yet has trouble communicating. Her closest relationship is with her sister Katy (Jess Weixler), a librarian with a little boy, who has abandoned other dreams. And there are long scenes with a straight-talking teacher (played by the always impressive Viola Davis) who becomes a confidant. All of these characters are valuable and the dialogue and acting are excellent all around.

As we got to know these characters the film sometimes meandered slowly with lingering solo shots of a silent actor, but it was always visually impressive in an understated way. The smart dialogue compensated for it, too. Benson did well by taking advantage of authentic New York locations, and the set and music choices were sensitive yet purposeful. I was pleasantly surprised to find that in its’ two hours, the film never tried too hard. The soundtrack stood out to me as a strongpoint, and made use of good and bad songs. New York alternative hip-hop composer Son Lux really delivered with a stirring final song that made the last scene of the film truly affecting.

The story these characters tell is worth knowing, and the shorter cut version kept me entertained, yet reaching for more. I wanted to know the how’s and why’s and the intricacies of the relationships we saw on screen, and I suspect the unedited ‘Him’ and ‘Her’ versions adequately provide that for the dedicated viewer. I can’t imagine the greater investment the audience would make into these characters and their lives with more time to thoroughly bring the screenplay to life.  But, editing the length down was a smart business move, as it is a much more conventional and approachable film that will be successful commercially as a romantic, date movie even though its true potential surpasses that archetype.

The Weinstein Company and Myriad Pictures present a Unison Films, Myriad Pictures, Dreambridge production  


Cast: Jessica Chastain, James McAvoy, Nina Arianda, Viola Davis, Bill Hader, Ciaran Hinds, Isabelle Huppert, William Hurt, Jess Weixler


Director: Ned Benson


Screenwriter: Ned Benson




Producers: Cassandra Kulukundis, Ned Benson, Jessica Chastain, Todd Labarowski, Emanuel Michael



Editor: Kristina Boden





No rating, 123 minutes

Don Jon Movie Review

Joseph Gordon-Levitt didn’t disappoint me with his frank, intelligent and offbeat writing and directorial debut, Don Jon. The story follows Jon Martello (Gordon-Levitt), an old-fashioned, New Jersey ladies’ man, complete with hair gel, wife beater, and gold chain. His bros call him “The Don” for his ability to take home a good-looking woman every night that he promptly disposes of the next morning. However we soon learn that for Jon, even his dream girl can’t give him the pleasure that pornography can.

Enter Barbara Surgarman. Portrayed by Scarlett Johansson, Barbara encapsulates everything porn has taught him to idolize about women: blonde and beautiful, with over-exaggerated sexual characteristics. However she brings her own selfish and manufactured ideas about love, and we quickly learn that she wants to be the star of her own romantic comedy, not the supporting character in Jon’s. The popular movies she loves have disconnected her with reality, and her fixation with fairytales has taught her that she needs to be pampered by a man.

It’s the juxtaposition of their one-sided and inherently sexist ideas of love that leads to an entertaining depiction of how our media culture has taught both genders to view relationships with unattainable and insincere expectations.

Gordon-Levitt achieves this comparison through not only his writing choices, Barbara and Jon both spew ridiculous notions about relationships throughout the film, but his directorial moves as well. Jon serves as narrator, and we’re given access to his innermost thoughts and routines (borderline ritualistic), complete with quick pornographic montages that alternate with reality. These stylistic choices help creatively reveal that it’s Jon’s emotionless, self-serving lifestyle that leaves him dissatisfied, unaccepted and returning to his fake world.

Barbara’s Notebook-esque romantic ideas are captured in her own cheesy montages, with lingering glances and a man who “would do anything for her.” In one triumphant scene Gordon-Levitt satirically takes down the romantic-comedy genre with one fatal swoop.

The pair head to see a romantic film, and not only does Jon spell out how most of these movies typically end, but it also sets up how his story should resolve, with Jon in a happy and healthy relationship without porn. On the wall outside of the theater we see movie posters, complete with the actors who usually thrive in these roles (Channing Tatum and Anne Hathaway; I’m pretty sure one of the posters switched Tatum to Zac Efron once they exited the theater, but I can’t prove it.)

The two characters’ clashing ideas about relationships embody stereotypes, and even the characters themselves seem to caricature the New Jersey population. Jon takes the “GTL” routine to a new level, and Barbara, with her attitude and gold hoops, is worthy of at least one Springsteen ballad. Perhaps Gordon-Levitt’s criticism of modern media extends to reality television as well; we’re stereotyping entire regions of the nation now.

Jon’s parents seem to represent the ghosts of his future, and Jon doesn’t like what he sees. His father, who Tony Danza brought to the screen with enthusiasm, grit and a surprisingly large number of f-bombs for the Who’s the Boss dad, is Jon aged 25 years. In his matching wife beater, there’s no question that Jon inherited his ways from his father. We can assume he once looked at his classic Italian wife (Glenne Headley) like Jon looks at Barbara.

Even the supporting characters represented smart writing choices by Gordon-Levitt that tackled many stereotypes of popular culture. The “bros,” (including the token black friend) all worshipped their ringleader with loyalty and shallow dialogue. His sister Monica (Brie Larson) remains glued to her iPhone screen until the last minutes of the film when she offers advice to her brother, perhaps illustrating that even the most wise and caring characters can remain distant due to our dependence on technology.

I was satisfied with all of the actor’s performances, it was nice to see Gordon-Levitt out of the “nice guy next door role,” but for me it was Julianne Moore’s portrayal of Esther that stole the show. Serving as Barbara’s “perfect woman” foil and the only character with dynamism and background, she is the one, real woman that seems to upset Jon’s routine. My only complaint is the lack of development and insight into Esther. Gordon-Levitt introduced a great potential storyline and let it hang there rather than capitalizing on it.

But in a wise writing move that steps away from a cliché romantic ending, Levitt removes love from the equation, and replaces the character’s needs with a gender-neutral desire: acceptance.

The ending was a little too abrupt and easy. But as a romantic comedy satire, it worked. There’s no happily ever after, and that felt okay. It’s here that Gordon-Levitt’s directorial decisions change appropriately as well. We switch from disconnected and fast pornographic montages to scenes of a now more true-to-himself Jon, “losing himself.”

Gordon-Levitt’s debut on the other side of the camera takes a brave stab at a genre and media that fills us with unrealistic ideas about love and relationships, and although his movie begins as a story dripping with stereotype and satire, the honest quest for intimacy ultimately creates an unexpectedly heartfelt and relatable film.