Eye in the Sky

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Gavin Hood/Starring: Helen Mirren, Alan Rickman, Aaron Paul, Barkhad Abdi, Jeremy Northam and Phoebe Fox

The moments in war, when one becomes aware collateral damage will take a life or lives of non-combatants, must be truly horrific. High-ranking officers, generals, administrative personnel and soldiers are able to live with their decisions; knowing a hostile or potentially hostile target has been eliminated. For those with a conscience, liquidating an enemy at the cost of killing a child who has no role in a conflict or war; a child living in the Third World who is merely trying to cope with the hardships of survival--might give someone pause. But what if a military operation designed to eliminate suicide bombers--terrorists determined to kill a large number of people indiscriminately--also took the life of a young, innocent bystander; perhaps a little girl? The convoluted question has no easy answers. Such a confounding question is the focus of director Gavin Hood's brilliant, morally complex and gripping war drama Eye in the Sky; a film that is sure to stimulate reflection and discussion.

Hood's film shows us how a little girl selling bread could conceivably keep an operation in moral and bureaucratic gridlock; tying up military and civilian command personnel in a welter of indecision that is sure to make a movie-goer writhe in frustration.

Helen Mirren plays British Colonel Katherine Powell, who oversees a joint British/American operation involving Al Shabab militants, who are to gather in a Shabab-controlled neighborhood inside western-allied Kenya. Complicating the operation is the location, as Kenya is western-friendly territory. But another wrinkle are three of the operatives in Shabab's terrorist plot, which involve one British subject and two American citizens. While two of the western participants are young men who have joined Al Shabab's cause, an American woman married to a key member of the Islamic militant outfit is another target of the allied operation.

As an American drone provides aerial surveillance, the Kenyan special forces deploy an operative named Jama Farah (a terrific Barkhad Abdi; who played the Somali terrorist in Captain Phillips) on the ground , who controls tiny surveillance drones of his own.

After Farah infiltrates the Al-Shabab neighborhood, he deploys ingeniously-designed drones resembling a hummingbird and a small insect to spy on those inside the compound housing the terrorists. Drawing on drone-footage, Powell determines all the persons in question are accounted for, thereby designating the house a legitimate military target. With a phone link to the American drone pilots; Steve Watts (Aaron Paul) and Carrie Gershon (Phoebe Fox); who watch the live aerial footage from an Air-Force base in Nevada, Powell awaits approval from her superiors to issue an order to launch the drone's dreaded Hellfire missiles.

What might seem like a cut and dried operation becomes complicated when a young girl from the neighborhood surrounding the compound sets up a table outside the walls to sell bread. Reluctant to jeopardize the young girl's life, Powell's higher-ups, which include Lt. General Frank Benson (the late, great Alan Rickman; in one of his final roles), a government minister (Jeremy Northam), several government officials, including a legal adviser, all weigh the moral and legal impact of the little girl's almost certain death. While Powell and Benson support an immediate attack, the government officials are loathe to sacrifice the little girl's life. The cabinet's debate becomes testy, as Benson reminds the group that the terrorists are sure to kill an estimated 75-80 people in a crowded, public space if not eliminated, while the government officials refuse to give their consent, essentially adopting the role of the girl's advocates. Meanwhile, the possibility that the terrorists will leave the compound before a strike can be approved becomes the film's ticking-clock.

What is particularly fascinating about the story are the multiple points-of-view; Powell in her command center with her own personnel, who understand the operation's moral stickiness; Benson and government officials who preside god-like over the proceedings; Farah, who sits just outside the compound, and Watts and Gershon, who are entrusted to launch the missiles but who are no less reluctant to kill a little girl to achieve a military objective.

Guy Hibbert's fiendishly sharp screenplay piles on the tension but also the frustration as the order to launch is volleyed back and forth through British and American channels, causing everyone to defer or delay a decision or refuse to accept accountability for making one. The situation becomes comical when Benson's group contacts a British official in Malaysia, who suffers from a gastrointestinal problem, for approval. Citing the troublesome problem of two of the targets being American, the group also seeks permission from an American government official to proceed with the attack, only to be given his peevish consent with his why-are-you-wasting-my-time-with-this attitude. The maddening vacillations between military and governmental personnel become acutely frustrating, as entanglements mount.

But we the audience are also asked to make a decision; to consider what the character's must, thereby making us passively complicit. For Benson and Powell, two soldiers, only one course of action is possible; sacrificing one to save many. Though Benson and Powell's objective is hardly wrong, it is also not right. In an intelligently-written story such as this, no one individual is right or wrong. But in the final half-hour of the film, after Powell orders a second strike upon the compound to ensure the American woman has been eliminated, we're asked as an audience to weigh the expedience of her decision. The sight of mangled and severed limbs of the those killed in the compound leave an indelible impression. Even Farah, a mere Somali operative for the Kenyan military, sees the gravity and the fallout of his participation in the operation. No one is left unscathed or untouched by the attack; particularly Watts and Gershon, whose emotional response to carrying out their orders is one of the film's most poignant moments. One of the final scenes in the film show Benson being handed a bag with a toy which he asked an aide to exchange for another he mistakenly bought earlier in the film. The toy attains a tragic significance; we know the recipient is most likely a privileged child that doesn't have to sell bread on a street to survive and will most likely never be the target of a drone. A thoughtful and powerful statement in a film spilling over with them.

What is critical in a film with multiple points-of-view is keeping the story coherent and the characters relevant. Hood's unerring direction ensures every thread connecting numerous characters to the main story sidesteps extraneousness. Every character is crucial to the narrative.

Though the acting is superlative throughout, it is difficult not to see Helen Mirren's performance as the film's centerpiece. Though Powell obsessively pursues her objective and is willing to go as far as fudging collateral damage calculations to ensure the Hellfires are launched, it would be wrong to say she is completely indifferent to the little girl's welfare. Though Powell is ultimately the agent of death and destruction, Mirren makes her a sympathetic figure.

It is fascinating to consider the drama surrounding the little girl and how much suspense is teased from whether she fails or succeeds at selling her bread. It is disconcerting to think that so many people--a chain of personnel with god-like powers--are trusted with the decision as to who lives or dies.

Whether Hood intended to or not, we see military and governmental personnel, as well as soldiers, give their actions due reflection, which contrast sharply with those of the terrorists, who would most likely not consider the well-being of a little girl when they detonate their bombs. One group exercises discrimination, calculates collateral damage, while the other concerns itself not with who, but how many.

I think Eye in the Sky is one of the first truly terrific films of the year. It is thoughtful, thought-provoking, and a helluva of a nail-biter.

Trumbo

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Jay Roach/Starring: Bryan Cranston, Helen Mirren, Diane Lane, Louis C.K., John Goodman, Elle Fanning and Michael Stuhlbarg

The sordid history of the Hollywood blacklists has been well documented and dramatized in cinema. Two notable films on the subject; Martin Ritt's The Front (1976) and Irwin Winkler's Guilty by Suspicion (1991); come to mind. But unlike the aforementioned fictitious films, director Jay Roach's Trumbo is based on the real-life experiences of a legendary screenwriter who endured the unforgiving and unconscionable political witch-hunts that left so many unemployed and unemployable. Dalton Trumbo, played beautifully and with much artistry by Bryan Cranston, stands as one of the more talented writers in movie history but because his communist ties were seen by the House Un-American Activities Committee as suspicious and possibly seditious, he, along with other screenwriting peers, were barred from submitting work to the studios. Deprived of their livelihood, many found their economic situations severely stressed and their lives and reputations ruined by one of the more diabolical political movements in American history.

In Trumbo, the screenwriter's experiences serve as a testimony to the indignities and humiliations visited on a group whose membership in the communist party was borne of humanitarian concerns.

Early in the film, we see Trumbo sitting before legendary studio executive Louis B. Mayer, basking in praise and the promise of being the highest paid screenwriter in Hollywood. Unfortunately for Trumbo, a new contract comes with an ominous warning about his political affiliations. Unconcerned, he spends his days writing and enjoying time with his family and screenwriting friends.

But we also see the machinations of anti-communist forces, led by the powerful Hollywood gossip columnist Hedda Hopper (Helen Mirren) and a government committee hellbent on expunging traitorous elements in the film community. In one scene, Hopper stands before a full auditorium of like-minded "patriots" with actor John Wayne (David James Elliott). After rousing the audience with bile-spewing rhetoric about political subversives in Hollywood, Hopper and Wayne encounter Trumbo and his fellow-screenwriters outside the auditorium, where their leaflets about constitutional rights are left untouched by the those exiting the venue. Wayne and Hopper are unmoved by and dismissive of the writer's pleas for tolerance, while Trumbo counters Wayne's bullying with a biting question about the actor's war service.

But Trumbo finds more powerful forces marshaled against him, as a subpoena served to him during a family picnic demands that he testify before the House Un-American Activities Committee in Washington D.C. to address issues about communist propaganda finding its way into Hollywood films. Refusing to answer questions they deem intrusive, Trumbo and his screenwriting cohorts--known as The Hollywood Ten--are convicted of contempt of Congress and subsequently arrested.

We see Trumbo in the following scene standing before a prison guard. He is forced to strip naked, exposing his privates for examination. The degradation he endures for his views says much about the political climate of the time. In prison, he is hardly exempt from the hard labor demanded of inmates.

While serving his time, Trumbo stays in contact with his wife Cleo (Diane Lane) as she tries to hold the family together. Trumbo (and the audience) experiences a wonderful moment of comical irony when he discovers the man who led the witch-hunt against him in Hollywood is also serving time in the same prison for tax-evasion.

But upon being paroled, Trumbo discovers his problems have only begun. He finds being blacklisted to be another punishing sentence as he is effectively shut-out from Hollywood. Public humiliation becomes common. Trumbo is accosted in a movie theater after a patron sees his face in a newsreel about The Hollywood Ten, whereupon a drink is splashed in his face.

Trumbo finds a way around the blacklist by writing scripts with non-blacklisted writer's names on his work. He writes Roman Holiday but attaches the name of his screenwriting peer Ian McLellan Hunter (Alan Tudyk} on the front page. Though his screenplay wins an Oscar, Trumbo is unable to accept the award while Hunter is loathe to keep the statue.

Soon Trumbo discovers writing under a pseudonym to be an effective way of earn a living. As the Trumbo family is forced to move into more modest digs, Dalton is also forced to work for a schlock movie company run by brothers Frank (John Goodman) and Hymie (Stephen Root) King, who churn out low-budget pot-boilers. Though Frank and Hymie make objections about not being able to afford Trumbo, the writer gladly accepts lower pay to keep his family fed. Unlike the major studios, the King brothers don't see the Black List as an impediment to hiring a black-listed writer. Friend and fellow blacklister Arlen Hird (Louis C.K.) sees his writing junk-scripts as insulting while Trumbo sees writing under a pseudonym as an effective way of circumventing the blacklist. Soon Trumbo enlists the talents of his fellow blacklisters for the King brothers, sometimes with humorous results. One scene that is particularly funny involves a space alien story over which Frank and Arlen lock horns.

As betrayal is the overarching theme in the film, we see its many incarnations. One instance involves screen legend Edward G. Robinson; who proves to be a sympathetic ally to Trumbo and his friends before he too is forced to sit before a committee to answer questions about his dubious affiliations. Other liberal figures in the industry pledge fealty to the Trumbo and his fellow communists, until they also turn their backs on the vilified Ten.

We also see how betrayal can take the form of familial alienation. Trumbo's obsessive writing schedule drives a wedge between himself and his family. Though Cleo feels he is guilty of neglect, the person it affects most acutely is his daughter Nicki (Elle Fanning). She tries to get her father to join the family gathering for her 16th birthday, only to find him in the bathtub with his typewriter; hostile to all entreaties.

Trumbo's career takes a dramatic turn when he discovers actors and directors who are willing to defy the blacklist to work with him and more importantly, include his name on scripts. Two such people; Kirk Douglas and Otto Preminger, help dismantle (though not eradicate) the Committee and Hedda Hopper's influence, thus extricating Trumbo from the blacklist's pernicious hold.

If the film ends with vindication, it also carries the bitterness of injustice. Though we see Trumbo accepting an award years after the blacklist's wane, he is quick to point out that all who suffered through its noxious influence were forever changed by it, mostly for the worse. Closing subtitles inform us credit for Trumbo's work on Roman Holiday and The Brave One, both Oscar-winning screenplays; were awarded only later; the former posthumously.

The film's showcase is Bryan Cranston, whose performance here should soundly establish him in movies. Cranston shows us a highly principled man whose unwavering loyalty to his colleagues and his unassailable political convictions came with a fiery resolve. He is a wonder in this role.

But one can't walk away from the film not having noticed Helen Mirren, John Goodman, Louis C.K. and Michael Stuhlbarg all doing exceptional work as well.
John McNamara, whose writing credits have been mostly relegated to television, contributes a solid, intelligent script. His dialogue is smart and witty and his hero wonderfully nuanced.

The Hollywood Black Lists will forever inspire dramas; it's a subject that never seems to get musty. Jay Roach's film proves the history can still be mined poignantly. The film also shows that Dalton Trumbo was long overdue for a biopic of his own.

Woman in Gold

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Simon Curtis/Starring: Helen Mirren, Ryan Reynolds, Daniel Bruhl, Katie Holmes, Jonathan Pryce, Frances Fisher, Antje Traue, Max Irons, Tatiana Maslany and Elizabeth McGovern

Maria Altmann, niece of Adele Bloch-Bauer; the subject of artist Gustav Klimt's masterpiece Woman in Gold (originally titled Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I) attempted to reclaim the painting which was stolen from her family's home by the Nazis during the 1938 annexation of Austria.

A reluctant Austrian government was unwilling to part with what it considered to be a national treasure, and vigorously resisted her efforts. This in spite of the Austrian government's late 20th century push to return stolen artwork to their rightful owners. Altmann pursued the painting by legal means, enlisting the help of a Los Angeles lawyer named Randal Schoenberg but the two found the Austrian legal system formidable. Just as the situation seemed impossible, Schoenberg discovered a way to sue the Austrian government by way of the American court system, which paved the way for a hearing before the Austrian court. Altmann's Sisyphean quest then gained a glimmer of hope after many setbacks and disppointments.

The story of Altmann's pursuit is the subject of director Simon Curtis' new film Woman in Gold.

One would think a real story such as Altmann's would only require minimal effort to be compelling onscreen but somehow Curtis' film simmers but never seethes, leaving the audience with something only adequately told and performed. How could this be, when Altmann's early life in Austria meant being in the company of a beautiful aunt who has since become an icon in the history of art? How could it be when Altmann faced persecution under the Nazi's and narrowly escaped its destructive agenda? Lesson to filmmakers telling "true" stories: riveting history doesn't necessarily mean riveting cinema; powerful intercession is required.

Helen Mirren plays Maria Altmann while Ryan Reynolds is lawyer Randal Schoenberg, grandson of the famed composer Arthur Schoenberg. Altmann and Randal meet in Los Angeles following the news of the Austrian government's restorative gesture. Randal's assignment as a newly-hired attorney in a prestigious law firm is to look into the feasibility of representing Altmann, which entails flying to Austria to examine files and records pertaining to her family. Complicating Randal's task is Altmann, who refuses to return to the country that is essentially responsible for her family's demise. After careful deliberation, Altmann reconsiders. She locks up her L.A. dress shop to join Randal in Austria.

In Austria, Altmann and Randal meet a journalist (Daniel Bruhl), who takes a special interest in her problem.

While Altmann's efforts are hobbled by bureaucratic resistance, her memories of her stunning aunt Adele (Antje Traue) mingle with her grim recollections of Nazi terror, which visited the Jewish population of Austria in the 1930s' and 40s'. Though Adele never faced Nazi oppression (she died in 1925 of Meningitis), Maria's parents, her Uncle and her husband Fritz Altmann all suffered a variety of humiliations, including the confiscation of property, particularly Klimt's famous painting of her aunt.

The film is really a diptych of Altmann's past and present, which also serves as its narrative structure. The closer Altmann comes to realizing her dream of repossessing the painting, the more we learn of the subject of Klimt's masterwork and her special place in Altmann's memory. And as the process of reclaiming the painting becomes an almost hopeless nightmare, we see that Altmann also seeks redress from a nation that abetted her family's destruction.

But the film is also about Randal and what he sacrifices to help Altmann reclaim the painting, namely his family's happiness and his career, which are jeopardized in the process.

The various stories should translate into a powerful film, but too often Mirren's Altmann comes off as a loveable senior with cute witticisms. I give Reynolds credit for taking on a role that doesn't resemble anything in his usual repertoire. He has some moments where he shows surprising range but he is mostly Altmann's straight man/sidekick, leading the legal struggle. Frances Fisher and Katie Holmes are the movie's furniture and little more than that. I wish Bruhl had been given more to do other than remind Altmann how hopeless her cause is. He is better than his very limited, short-shrifted role.

Curtis' film is interesting and if you find that word criminally tepid, then know that I use it deliberately, for that's as much praise as I can award it. I'm a bit weary, nay, very weary of Holocaust-related stories. Though the film is also about other things, it is essentially a story about how the Nazi's devastated a family and robbed it of one of its prized possessions while suppressing the Jewish identity of the woman in the painting Woman in Gold. I feel I've seen Nazi malice portrayed so often on screen, it's lost its ability to shock or make me feel outrage.

And though the young Maria Altmann's (Tatiana Maslany) escape from Nazi operatives gives the film a temporary pulse-quickener, it does little to bestow any vigor on the proceedings. What should be a powerful film is really just an okay film that could have been an AMC, HBO or Netflix production for streaming or television. As the story carried on, my eyelids began their inexorable pilgrimmage toward leadenness. I cared about Altmann's struggle but I could already anticipate the end titles that would inevitably say something about what became of Altmann's efforts.

Funny how many people I met at the local theater rolled their eyes when I asked if they had seen the movie. "Geez, the trailer looks bad, doesn't it? seemed to be the most frequently heard question/comment.

I implore you to see the trailer and skip the flick. If you find a two-minute trailer insufferable, the 109 minute version won't alter your perception much.

The Hundred-Foot Journey

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Lasse Hallstrom/Starring: Helen Mirren, Om Puri, Manish Dayal and Charlotte Le Bon

I have to admit; when I first watched the trailer for Lasse Hallstrom's film, I winced like I just tasted an excruciatingly sweet slice of cake topped by treacle, powdered sugar and mashed gummy bear gravy. I thought geez, all the sweets in Willy Wonka's factory seem postively bitter next to producers Oprah Winfrey and Steven Spielberg's joint cinematic confection.

I could the understand the duo adapting author Richard C. Morais' novel, which might appeal to their occasional taste for fluff. It even made sense for them to hire the writer to co-adapt his novel. I could even understand the two producers recruiting Hallstrom, who is no stranger to light as a whisper cinema (Chocolat) but I was downright mystified by their choice to co-adapt the novel: Steven Knight. If that name faintly rings a bell, it's because said co-screenwriter is none other than the writer-director of the darkly offbeat Locke, which briefly flickered on movie screens sometime back in the spring. Whatever inspired an unlikely choice like Knight can probably be attributed to the smarts that have made Winfrey and Spielberg colossi in the entertainment world.

Believe me when I tell you, I came to the film bearing fangs and wielding sharp objects, expecting to slice and rend flesh. I expected to slash the film as a Great White tears surfers with its lethally-sharp rows of dental death. Not only did I expect to loathe the film, I wanted to detest and abominate it too.

But to my surprise, the film slowly disarmed me; overcoming me with its seductive and irresistible (and I don't use that word casually) charm. I was lulled into what felt like a sweet stupor, as if I had toked an opium pipe in the theater.

The story of a restaurant-owning, Indian family who are forced to flee their Mumbai home and their country for the politically safe environs of Europe seems more like the overture to something provocative and tragic. But as the tight-knit family wanders the European continent, a harrowing incident involving failed brakes leads them to a beautiful French village, one almost improbably so. By avoiding death by failed brakes, the family makes the acquaintance of a stunning, young woman named Marguerite (an almost impossibly lovely Charlotte Le Bon) who just happens to work as a sous chef in an exceptional village restaurant. The Indian father (a terrific Om Puri) is immediately taken by the idyllic surroundings, while his son Hassan (Manish Dayal) is taken by Marguerite's beauty.

Marguerite offers the family a place to stay for the night, which the itinerant family eagerly accepts. While resting from their travels, Marguerite offers them a plate of bread, cheeses and vegetables, all lovingly spread and all delicious.

While wandering through the village the next day, the father sees what looks like a house sitting directly across the street from a renowned French restaurant. Undaunted by the restaurant's presence, the father envisions setting up his own in the vacant property; a place much like the one the family lost when they were forced to flee their homeland. The family is skeptical about the father's plan but knowing Hassan is a superb cook, they go along with the idea.

The father's restaurant venture doesn't go unnoticed by Madame Mallory, the snobby owner of the restaurant across the street, who watches through her curtains as the family slowly transforms their newly acquired property into an Indian restaurant called Maisson Mumbai. She regards the restaurant and the food with something akin to contempt. While crossing the street one day to turn off the loud music, Madame Mallory crosses verbal sabers with the father, which leads to expressions of mutual disdain for their respective cuisines. As a romance between Marguerite and Hassan begins to flicker, the relationship creates a conflict of interest, as the young woman is on Madame Mallory's staff.

A viewer would have to have the intellect of one of the sea anemones Hassan enjoys to not know the story's course or to not know the character vectors. But a few unexpected suprises arise in the story, like Madame Mallory recognizing Hassan's superlative cooking talent and taking him under her wing. This development seems very improbable but to quibble over realism in a movie like The Hundred Foot Journey is like demanding scientific proof for Glenda the Good Witch's magic.
One can also see the obvious conflict that will arise when Marguerite's culinary aspirations are suddenly thwarted by the appointment of Hassan to the head chef position on Madame's staff.

As the father works to establish his restaurant's viability, Madame Mallory's dream of earning stars for her restaurant in the prestigious Michelin guide dovetails with her desire to hire Hassan as her head chef--a move vigorously opposed by the father.

As all these dramas play out to a predictable end, Hallstrom gives us something intoxicating to behold. Linus Sandgren, the director of photography on American Hustle, paints the French countryside with a colorful radiance, both blissful and edenic. I also don't know that I've seen Paris captured so rapturously since the water-skiing-on-the-Seine scene in Leo Carax's Lovers on the Bridge.

I can rhapsodize as much for the performances. No matter how often one marvels at Helen Mirren's acting, she continues to enchant and beguile. As does Om Puri, whose presence provides the perfect counterweight to Mirren. Much of the film's charms can be credited to these two fine actors. Manish Dayal and Charlotte Le Bon are the pleasing eye-candy who generate some romantic heat.

The Hundred-Foot Journey is the fourth film I've seen this year with a strong food theme. In The Lunchbox, food is a kind of a galvanizing agent; in Chef; a means to repair a relationship; in Le Chef a way out of obscurity and the commonplace and in Hallstrom's film; it is a a culinary treaty between cultures. Nothing profound but for this frothiness, it works.

I was somewhat annoyed by the film's tacit view that French cuisine is superior to that of India's. I'm sure the curries and spices in Indian food predate France's existence by more than a millenium, so why the condescension? Does it not take as much passion to make a great curry as a great sauce? Maybe most food critics and foodies would find my rhetorical questions naive.

Is The Hundred-Foot Journey a great film? Hardly. Is it an artistic success? Don't think so. Well, what is it? It's fun, it's heady and it's charming. It's all a fairy-tale, to be sure, with only a tenuous, connective thread to the real world, but I found it futile to resist. If anyone claims the film is something more, tell them they're full of cheese. And if they ask what kind, tell them the French have 629 varieties from which to choose, so take your pick. For me, the film was a good cheddar, because like the French, I too enjoy a little cheese.