3 1/2 Minutes, 10 Bullets

Director: Marc Silver

On the day after Thanksgiving 2012, a black teen named Jordan Davis and three friends pulled into a convenience store in Jacksonville, Florida for cigarettes and chewing gum. While one of the friends entered the store, the three other sat in the SUV, listening to blaring rap music. Meanwhile, a car pulled up next to the vehicle and shortly thereafter, the driver; a white man named Michael Dunn, became incensed with the loud music. He asked the black teens to turn down their music and after two of the boys complied, Davis defiantly turned the music back up. According to Dunn, Davis became abusive and eventually threatened to kill him. Dunn claimed he saw a gun barrel poking out from the rear passenger window, at which time he pulled a handgun from his glove compartment. He shot several times at the SUV as the driver, Tommie Stornes, desperately tried to pull away. Dunn said he continued firing until he no longer felt threatened. While Dunn waited for his wife to return, the young black boys in the SUV tended to Jordan, who they realized had sustained several gunshots to his body. As Jordan lay dying, Dunn was taken into custody. Invoking Florida's controversial Stand Your Ground Law, Dunn claimed he was threatened with violence and feared for his life. The teens who survived the encounter; Stornes, Tevin Thompson and Leland Brunson, don't deny Jordan was out of line and had a "big mouth," but they say Dunn's response was extreme and unnecessary and was motivated by racist sentiments.

The story and the case are the subject of Director Marc Silver's stirring new documentary 3 and 1/2 Minutes, 10 Bullets; a film that reaches for objectivity as it allows both sides its version of the events.

Silver's film isn't a talking head documentary, though we do hear commentary from Jordan's parents: Ron Davis and Lucia McBath, and the surviving members of the slain teen's group of friends. Dunn's version of events comes to us by way of his court testimony as well as recorded phone conversations with his fiancee, Rhonda Rouer. Silver also uses footage of Dunn in police custody to supplement his court testimony.

Though Dunn and his actions are subject to prosecution, it's clear the Stand Your Ground Law could just as easily be on the stand for its nebulous definition justifiable self-defense.

In the early part of the film, it's hard to square Dunn with the shooting. His timid, speaking voice is at odds with his violent act. This impression is further strengthened in trial testimony, when Dunn and his girlfriend both shed tears on the stand. What they might be sobbing about is anybody's guess because we never hear a word of remorse spill out of his or his fiancee's mouths.

In early trial testimony, Dunn's claims of self-defense seem reasonable and plausible but as the trial progresses, his version of events become shaky. Though he says a gun was pointed at him, none were found at the crime scene though his lawyer posits a theory that the weapon could have been flung from the vehicle as the boys fled from the scene in the SUV. It also becomes known that he never mentioned a gun of any kind to his fiancee.

Weakening Dunn's accusation that the four boys were thugs (we learn thugs is now a euphemism for "nigger") are Silver's conversations with Jordan's friends. Far from being products of broken homes and violent backgrounds, we see Stornes, Thompson and Brunson in their comfortable, suburban surroundings as they share memories of their friend. We also see they are anything but the hard-hearted killers Dunn would have the defense lawyer, the judge, the jury and his fiancee believe them to be. The audience is able to gather, from conversations with the teens and Jordan's father, that they are of one mind about Dunn's actions being related to his racist attitudes. In spite of Dunn's claims that he isn't racist, his biases slowly emerge in recorded conversations with his wife. The viewer might ask his or herself: would Dunn have pulled a gun on four white youths?

Ron Davis shares a disquieting exchange he had with the father of Trayvon Martin (another Stand Your Ground victim), who phoned Davis to tell him he is now a member of a club no one wants to belong to.

As the possibility of Dunn being set free becomes a distinct possibility, we hear the most powerful and damning testimony come not from Jordan's friends but from Dunn's fiancee Rhonda. When the prosecuting attorney asks her if Dunn ever mentioned any gun or weapon in Jordan or his friend's possession, she responds in the negative. Her honesty is astonishing, for she (and Dunn) are well aware that her answers will most likely help condemn her fiancee.

As everyone anxiously awaits the jury's verdict, the tension crescendos to some sort of dramatic climax. Given the appalling outcome of George Zimmerman's trial; of which he was acquitted of murder charges in the shooting of Trayvon Martin, Ron and Lucia's pessimism and anxieties seem warranted.

The jury eventually finds Dunn guilty of second degree murder on 4 of the 5 counts; not quite the outcome Jordan's parents had hoped for. The fifth count resulted in a hung jury and a mistrial. After the case was retried, Dunn was found guilty of first degree murder, which carries a mandatory life-sentence.

As a viewer, I understand Ron and Lucia's sense of relief, which is supposed to serve as a satisfying coda to the story and film, but I have to admit I felt the verdict, though just, was a defeat of sorts. Ron and Lucia's only child is gone and the horrific law that gave Dunn a sense of empowerment is still on the books. Both Jordan and Trayvon Martin are dead because a law mid-wived into existence by gun-lobbyists has only given gun-owners unreasonable latitude to interpret what is and what isn't a threat. I couldn't help but think that Jordan would be alive and Dunn would be free if the law didn't exist.

Silver tells this story compellingly; allowing the inherent drama to find full expression on the screen. I think the film could have actually done with fewer scenes of the grieving parents. Tears threaten to sentimentalize the documentary and detract from the honest, brutal reality of the story.

Though the ending feels like a victory for justice, the victorious feeling is tempered by the probability that more Stand Your Ground claimants will be on court dockets in the near future. Whether Dunn's life sentence will deter other gun owners from legally-sanctioned vigilantism remains to be seen.

3 1/2 Minutes, 10 Bullets is a compelling film. It's safe to say its audience will be left-leaning, which means it will play mostly to the lefty choir. But as the Fox News pro-Dunn response shows, consensus on gun-related issues is next to impossible anyway. I'm glad Silver made his film; it's trenchant indictment of a law makes for riveting cinema.

Gone But Not Forgotten: Hal Ashby's The Landlord (1970)

Director: Hal Ashby/Starring: Beau Bridges, Pearl Bailey, Lee Grant, Diana Sands, Louis Gossett, Jr., Marki Bey, Susan Anspach and Robert Klein

Director Hal Ashby (1929-1988) had a career so brief yet so rich. The main body and best of his work book-ended the 1970s'. An astonishing oeuvre that included films like Shampoo and Coming Home showed us Ashby's brand of biting social commentary while other films like Harold and Maude and Being There reminded us of his sublime, off-the-wall sense of humor. The Landlord, his directorial debut, was a generous serving of both.

The film is significant for its willingness to confront issues of racism the country was only beginning to acknowledge. To give the film historical context, it was released a mere two years after Dr. Martin Luther King's assassination.

Based on the novel by African-American writer Kristin Hunter, The Landlord has two settings; both crucial to the story it tells. It begins on a sprawling estate in Connecticut, where we see a young man named Elgar Enders (Beau Bridges) reclining on a chair on a vast lawn. A black butler approaches to serve him lemonade. The scene, mostly in long shot, effectively communicates everything we need to know about Elgar's life and his unabashed acceptance of its privileges.

In subsequent scenes, we see Elgar driving his VW convertible; overflowing with flowers, en route to the Park Slope tenement area of Brooklyn. When Elgar arrives, he sees the building in which he is to serve as landlord. He is quite naturally greeted, in a mix of hostility and mockery, by the mostly black residents of the building and the neighborhood. In a mildly amusing moment, he runs down the street with flowerpot in hand as a tenement resident gives chase. On his return to the building, he finds neighborhood kids looting his car of sundry items. Upon entering his building, he finds it dark, cavernous, run-down and full of suspicious tenants, who find his presence disconcerting and puzzling.

Elgar meets the matriarchal Marge (Pearl Bailey), who is informed she owes months of back-rent. He meets the sexy Fanny (Diana Sands); who wastes little time flirting him and makes the acquaintance of her kid, who subjects Elgar to various forms of mischief while also coaxing cigarettes out of him. He also meets Fanny's husband Copee (Louis Gossett, Jr.), who forcefully ejects Elgar from their apartment by threatening him with violence.

It doesn't take long for Elgar to make it known he intends to clear the tenement of the residents. He even asks Marge, uncaringly, how long the process might take. In spite of his callous agenda, the tenants remain unintimidated and regard Elgar with a weary patience they've probably reserved for most landlords.

As the film progresses, we see Elgar contend not only with defiant tenants who all owe him back-rent, but his parents, who see his landlording venture as frivolous.

Mingling with his disdain for his parent's anti-tenement attitude is Elgar's shame for living under his parent's roof. During a meal with his family, we see his bigoted father (Walter Brooke); whose intolerance for anyone black is undisguised. We see that his mother (Lee Grant) acts as a diplomatic intermediary between Elgar and her husband but harbors a few bigoted ideas of her own. His dizzy sister Susan (Susan Anspach) is to marry Peter (Robert Klein), who is easily intimidated by his father-in-law-to-be while his brother, William Jr., is little more than the elder Enders' doppelganger in all matters relating to race.

Ashby contrasts Elgar's family's life sharply with life in the tenement. The legendary Gordon Willis, who would become Coppola's cinematographer on The Godfather trilogy and some of Woody Allen's films, assigns light and shade to the respective interiors of the tenements and the Enders' lush home. Nearly every visible space in the tenements are shot in a murky gloom while the Enders' estate and home are never wanting of sunny effulgence.

As time passes, Elgar becomes more sensitive to the culture that surrounds his tenement and neighborhood. He falls in love with a dancer he meets in a Brooklyn night club named Lanie (the lovely Marki Bey); a black woman whose light-skinned complexion enables her to move among the white and black cultures with relative ease but invites resentment among her dancing peers and the Park Slope inhabitants. It is particularly amusing to see Lanie attend Elgar's mother's costume fund-raiser while her blackness goes undetected by his parents.

Elgar's life becomes complicated when he can no longer resist Fanny's coquettish advances. A lovemaking interlude results in a pregnancy that nearly costs him his life when Copee discovers his transgression. Left with a baby Fanny can't and won't raise, Elgar agrees to put him up for adoption until the final shot of the film suggests he will do otherwise. Elgar's impregnation of Fanny serves as a metaphor for the systematic white exploitation of blacks.

Elgar Enders is quite at home as the kind of anti-hero that was to become commonplace in 70s' American cinema. Though he becomes sympathetic to the culture he chooses to live among, leaving Fanny with child shows a less-appealing side to his otherwise reasonable nature. He does atone for his sins in a magnanimous way but his gesture comes at a price; he becomes persona non grata in his building and the community, which prompts his inevitable departure.

I couldn't help but think about how the film makes an unintended statement about the paucity of blacks in cinema. Then, as now, a film featuring black actors that wasn't Black Exploitation Cinema must have seemed rather unusual. It is sad to think how little progress has been made.

As intriguing as Ashby's film is, I don't know that I would include it among his best. But the film is fascinating as a time capsule and shows an emerging, more progressive perspective in cinema.

Ashby's debut was the beginning of a career that was anything but predictable. And it was hardly the last time Ashby would make a film with a sociopolitical statement. Shampoo would be another example of Ashby's ability to address political issues in a highly entertaining way.

I was lucky enough to be able to see The Landlord in a theater recently and am glad I did. To see a film by a director whose career was relatively short and incandescent is quite a treat.

Note: The film isn't available on Netflix but if one is curios enough, a copy can be had via Amazon.

Jurassic World

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Colin Trevorrow/Starring: Chris Pratt, Bryce Dallas Howard, Vincent D'Onofrio, Irrfan Khan, Ty Simpkins, Jake Johnson, Nick Robinson, Judy Greer, BD Wong, Omar Sy

Colin Trevorrow, director of the amusing, off-the-wall Safety Not Guaranteed, takes on the dinosaur-sized production Jurassic World. Watching the film, I couldn't remember if Spielberg was in the director's chair because much of it bears his stamp. I suppose that's inevitable when he himself co-produced the film.

Though Trevorrow makes the film reasonably entertaining, his can't hope to match Jurassic Park for its originality or Spielberg's thrill-making ability. Jurassic World borrows so from the original the film seems almost like a reboot.

Isla Nublar is now home to Jurassic World; a mega-theme park sprawled across the Costa Rican island. Rather than the park-in-progress seen in the first film, Jurassic World is a fully-functional tourist destination.

When the film begins, we see the brothers Zach and Gray preparing to leave their parents outside their snow-covered home. Zach, a broody, discontented teen, is given a romantic send-off by his girlfriend, while his precocious, younger, Asperger-ish brother concerns himself with other distractions. The dark cloud hanging over the household is the divorce their mother Karen (Judy Greer) and father are headed precipitously toward. While the parents say their goodbyes to Zach and Gray at the airport, the older brother acts peevish, put-upon and unhappy about leaving his girlfriend.

The story cuts to a sleek transport boat as it approaches the impressive Jurassic World. An aerial long shot captures the crowded, vast complex; situated on the lush shoreline of Isla Nublar. Negotiating the crush of people who wander about the shops and tourist attractions inside the park, the brothers find their Aunt Claire; a park executive, who receives her nephews rather coolly. From the first exchange, the boys see their aunt is emotionally detached and totally absorbed in the business of running Jurassic World. After Claire makes a tepid promise to spend time with them the next day, the boys run off while an appointed guardian struggles to keep up.

Meanwhile, we see Claire at work, leading a group of potential investors on a tour of the park and the private labs. We learn something about the park's growth initiatives, which includes scarier, genetically designed dinosaurs with bigger teeth to wow and dazzle the patrons who grow increasingly bored with tyrannosaurs, triceratops and apatosauruses.

As in the first film, the unholy marriage of science and commerce alerts us to the folly of hubris and tampering with nature.

While the boys wander through the park, Claire's administrative concerns lead her to the park's newest exhibit; a genetically engineered creation called Indominus Rex; which is essentially a larger, smarter and nastier T-Rex. Safety concerns about the Indominus' paddock have arisen, which necessitates a meeting between Claire and a former naval engineer named Owen (Chris Pratt), whose expertise on structural integrity makes him an ideal consultant. When we first see Owen, he is standing on a walkway above a pen of velociraptors. As the raptors hiss and screech below, Owen busies himself training the raptors to follow orders. He even assigns them names.
When an unscrupulous military contractor named Hoskins (Vincent D'Onofrio) shows up to observe Owen's raptor-training, we learn the raptors are to be trained for deployment in combat.

I'm glad the screenwriters kept one foot in the real world; showing us how different parties with different agendas might actually exploit dinosaurs for profit and militaristic purposes. Of course the audience knows both means of exploitation will prove to be short-sighted and foolish.

In a scene where Claire approaches Owen about inspecting the Indominus' paddock, we see his shabby-looking, riverside home. We soon discover they once shared an extremely brief romance, which shows signs of rekindling.

Later, at the park complex, Claire and Owen find claw marks on the walls of the paddock, which suggest the dinosaur has taken flight. Thinking the Indominus Rex gone, they discover the dinosaur has tricked them into believing it escaped. As they find the towering hulk bearing down on them, Owen manages to elude the beast but an unfortunate staff person is gobbled whole. In spite of Owen's efforts to contain it, the Indominus effects an escape, and when he does, he goes on a park-wide, lethal rampage; feeding on other dinosaurs and hapless park employees. Later, the Indominus' love for bloodsport comes to light when Claire and Owen happen upon a herd of dead apatosaurs; their claw-streaked bodies providing grisly evidence.

And like the first film, we know the two youngsters will eventually find themselves stranded and trapped somewhere in the park. While taking a tour of the park in glassy, gyroscopic pods (really cool) Zach decides to drive off road into prohibited areas. Gee, what do you think will happen next?

And you might guess too that the thought of her endangered nephews will cure Claire of her seeming indifference and awaken a warm, familial compassion.

As the Indominus Rex stalks and skulks about, the park closes while the tourists are herded into a makeshift shelter in a warehouse.

Hoskins sees the Indominus' escape as an opportunity to test the velociraptors hunting and seeking skills. Though contemptuous of Hoskins, Owen decides to lead his trained pack on the hunt. Meanwhile, Hoskins' heavily armed, para-military personnel join the pursuit.

One of the parks biggest investors, Simon Masrani (Irrfan Khan), takes to the air in his helicopter in hopes of locating the Indominus, only to find the beast has smashed into the park aviary, where pterodactyls are kept. The flying dinos escape, unleashing their own mayhem on the tourists and park personnel.

It's pretty clear where the story will go. As previously mentioned, if you know the first film, this one won't offer many narrative surprises.

I don't know what is more frightening; predatory dinosaurs loose in a theme park or the very realistic throngs of tourists milling about. Though the idea of the park seemed like a fun idea in the first film, Trevarrow is quick to reinforce the impression that such a place would actually be inhumane and maybe immoral. One might have thought that after all the mayhem and destruction visited upon the world in the first few films, the authorities might keep a place like Jurassic World from ever getting off the ground. Implausible as the park might be, the human capacity for stupidity can never be too implausibly rendered onscreen.

Trevarrow does a respectable job keeping the story and action moving, but the film lacks the original's sense of wonder. Or maybe we've become the jaded park patrons Claire derides. Are T-rexs' and velociraptors no longer enough?

The Claire/Owen romance seems like a throwback to a 1940s' B-film; the damsel in high-heels being led about by the rugged, shotgun-toting tough. Bryce Dallas Howard's and Chris Pratt's chemistry manages to distract us from this crumbly, boy-leads-girl movie convention of old.

I liked the shot of the park's tourist area reduced to rubble and ruin to reinforce the film's message that nature isn't something to be commodified. Man proposes, nature disposes; to rework a famous quote.

Like the investors in the film who never seem to learn, the filmmakers may be on a course to create more of these films. Certain developments in the story suggest as much. Jurassic World is mostly fun and mostly painless. One could see a helluva lot worse at the local multiplex these days. Speaking of, is that Woman in Gold I still see on the marquee?

Spy

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Paul Feig/Starring: Melissa McCarthy, Jason Statham, Jude Law, Rose Byrne, Allison Janney and Bobby Cannavale

Paul Feig, director of Bridesmaids, adds to his comedy credentials with his new flick Spy, which stars Melissa McCarthy; his muse and leading lady. The film is Feig and McCarthy's third collaboration and it's safe to assume their working relationship will continue into the future.

Spy is a James Bond-spoof but rather than casting a glamorous 007, we have McCarthy, who exploits her unglamorousness for laughs. But Feig understands the value of ensemble comedy and he has recruited a supporting cast who are often funny on their own. Allison Janney, Jason Statham, British comedienne Miranda Hart, Jude Law and Bobby Cannavale lend their various talents to the movie and serve as effective comedic support.

Spy-spoofs always work best if the story or plot takes a back seat to the lampoonery. Feig's film mostly succeeds in that respect. The plot imperatives are fairly undemanding, which leaves more room for McCarthy and company to do their funny things.

McCarthy plays Susan Cooper, a desk-bound CIA agent who dreams of being assigned dangerous and glamorous fieldwork rather than providing intel for agency operatives. One such operative is the James Bondish Bradley Fine (Jude Law), whose exotic and dangerous missions leave the sedentary Susan feeling envious. After Susan guides the tux-clad Fine through an operation via her computer, he vanishes mysteriously. Her boss, the humorless and no-nonsense Elaine Crocker (amusingly played by the ever-welcome Allison Janney) receives a video transmission from a Rayna Boyanov (the always fun Rose Byrne); a criminal on the international scene. Boyanov informs Crocker, in her haughty manner, that the identities of several CIA agents have been compromised.
We also learn Boyanov is also involved in the sale of nuclear weapons to terrorists.

As Crocker devises a plan to surveil Boyanov, she meets with one of the CIA's top agents; Rick Ford (a very funny Jason Statham). Though Ford is eager to go after Boyanov, he is reminded that his identity is no longer secret. When Crocker suggests they send an agent unknown to the international criminal community, Susan offers her services as a field-ready operative. Her suggestion draws mocking scorn from Ford, who refers to her as a "lunch lady." Though Crocker expresses her own reservations, she decides to give Susan a try. She makes it clear to Susan that she is only to observe and report and not engage the target.

It's a pity Jason Statham isn't offered more comedic roles because he is often very funny in his scenes. He is especially amusing when Ford details to Susan the injuries he's sustained while performing dangerous spy-work. Among the many physical traumas he mentions is an arm torn from its socket, which he claims to have reattached himself.

As Ford defies Crocker's orders not to pursue Boyanov, Susan dons her disguises for her surveillance. Hoping for glamor, she is disappointed to find her disguise is that of a dowdy middle-age woman who is humorously asexual.

Showing initiative and her willingness to also defy orders, Susan comes into contact with Boyanov at a formal gathering. Seeing her drink has been lethally-spiked, she stops her from ingesting it. Her cover almost blown, Susan explains to the prickly Boyanov that she has been hired to be her bodyguard by the she-criminal's father. Because of quick-thinking, Susan is able to stay close to Boyanov and report on her activities. In the meantime, Susan and Boyanov exchange some amusing insults and before long, a bond begins to form between the two.

As Susan's undercover spy-work begins to empower and embolden her, she also begins to earn Ford's respect. She also begins to shed her timid, mild-mannered personality for a more assertive, confidant one.

Susan realizes in time that Boyanov is merely a pawn in a larger plan to acquire weapons of mass destruction, which involves another criminal named Sergio De Luca (an under-utilized Bobby Cannavale). A kind of showdown makes up the last half-hour of the film, which is really the obligatory plot wrap-up we see in every action comedy.

Having worked with McCarthy on several films, Feig understands her comic appeal and wrings every laugh and giggle he can from it. McCarthy manages to be funny in spite of the fact that her character settles into what is fast becoming her trademark: the foul-mouthed tough with a hostile streak. I'm not really complaining, mind you; she does it well but she may want to be careful the character doesn't become shopworn. Nevertheless, she is a fun and funny heroine and can play off her co-stars without overpowering them with her presence. Rose Byrne has already proven to be a gifted, comedic actress and she is no less here. The real surprise is Jason Statham, who almost steals the show with his macho action character send-up. The film's energy always bumps up a notch whenever Statham shows up.

Is Spy worth the time? I think so but only if your expectations are modest. It is entertaining and good for some chuckles. You'd be crazy to expect more.

Love and Mercy

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Bill Pohlad/Starring: Paul Dano, John Cusack, Elizabeth Banks and Paul Giamatti

Most rock biopics tend to dwell on musicians' reckless flights of Dionysian excess rather than the music itself. We see nothing of the former but learn much about the latter in director Bill Pohlad's excellent Love and Mercy . The film makes us witness to Beach Boy Brian Wilson's painstaking creative process, though it doesn't ignore the darker episodes of his life. Few narrative films about musicians take the time to detail how masterworks come into being. Though the film dramatizes much of the physical and mental dissolution in Wilson's life, we also come away with a sense of his musical brilliance and his need for creative growth; two qualities that have ensured his artistic viability.

Pohlad's imaginative camera work is buttressed by screenwriters Oren Moverman and Michael A. Lerner's terrific script. The story moves fluidly between Wilson's early years and the near past; between Wilson's formative musical life in the early 1960s' and his struggles with a malevolent and manipulative Svengali in the early 1990s'; a charlatan doctor who needlessly prescribed drugs to Wilson to essentially enslave the musician.

When the film begins, we see the elder Wilson (a very fine John Cusack) inside a Cadillac showroom. As he walks among the cars, a lovely saleswoman, Melinda Ledbetter (an equally fine Elizabeth Banks) approaches him. Finding Wilson a little odd, she is nevertheless intrigued. When she asks why an imposing man standing nearby is watching, Wilson identifies him as his bodyguard. In spite of Wilson's salient eccentricities, Melinda is drawn to him. While Wilson and Melinda chat inside a Cadillac, two other men arrive. One of the men is Dr. Eugene Landy (the always terrific Paul Giamatti); Wilson's shrink and self-assigned guardian. As the group exits the dealership, Melinda finds a note left behind by Wilson with three ominous words, which read as a kind of cry for help. The scene effectively and economically constructs a picture of Wilson's life in the 80s' and early 90s' and also introduces two pivotal people in his life; one who changes his life for the better and one who nearly drives him to insanity and financial ruin.

The film cuts to a montage of the Beach Boys in the early 1960s' as Brian, his brothers Carl and Dennis, cousin Mike Love and Beach Boys co-founder Al Jardin pose for promotional photos, perform onstage to screaming teenagers and record some of the band's biggest hits. We see the younger Brian Wilson (exceptionally played by Paul Dano) excitedly sharing his ideas for a new album; mentioning the many and varied instruments he intends to use. In discussing his expansive vision, he refers to The Beatles' music as a gauntlet the band must take up. While Carl, Dennis and Al Jardin show a willingness to share Brian's vision, lead singer Mike Love (Jake Abel) shows a stubborn resistance. Love's reactionary attachment to the Beach Boys' earlier songs grates on Brian, who would like nothing more than to move beyond surfing and car songs. As the story progresses, we see Love and Wilson continue to lock horns over the bands creative direction. But Love is only one of Brian's antagonists. Looming over the band and the lives of the Wilson brothers is their father Murray (Bill Camp); who, like Dr. Eugene Landy, is a brutal, controlling presence the Wilson boys fear and maybe loathe. Though a force behind the band's success, the father is of a mind with Love in his dismissal of Brian's new, more sophisticated approach to the Beach Boys sound. A scene where Murray expresses a strong dislike of one of Brian's new songs not only reveals his backward thinking but also his nature as a fatherly malcontent his son can never appease.

As the film swings between Wilson's later life and his early career, the story becomes a diptych of a man fighting two controlling forces in his life; his father and an unscrupulous man so domineering he thinks nothing of pulling a hamburger out of Brian's hand during a friendly get-together to teach him a lesson about restraint. The story parallels Wilson's two struggles: Wilson's self-extrication from his father's toxic presence and his fight to free himself from the sinister clutches of a man hellbent on destroying his mind and life.

Pohlad maintains dramatic tension in both chapters of Wilson's life. The barrier between past and present is often dissolved in nimble editing; scenes seamlessly drift from Wilson's early life to those of latter times.

The film would still be an affective drama if the story dealt mainly with Wilson's relationships but it offers something more. What sets Pohlad's film apart from lesser musical biopics are the scenes detailing Wilson's creative process in the studio. Seeing no need to continue touring with the band, Wilson devotes his time exclusively to writing and recording new music. Hiring some of the most respected musicians in the business, Wilson sets about creating a new album. His brilliance shines through as we see him direct the musicians with creative precision; requesting odd beats, melodic counterpoints, etc. Though many music biopics treat the subject's genius as a given, Pohlad's film troubles itself to show it.

During a break in recording, after the studio drummer rattles off names of the prominent musical talents he and the other musicians have worked with, he tells Wilson that his music stands tall among the best; an extraordinary compliment, to be sure.

The madness that Wilson was often prey to isn't ignored but shown as integral part of his psychological makeup. We begin to see bizarre behavior, such as Wilson holding a studio full of musicians captive while he gauges the vibes. Dissatisfied with what he finds, Wilson cancels a recording, in spite of the $5,000 cost. When Melinda asks the elder Wilson if he really did spend two years in bed, he tells her that it was actually three. In yet another scene, we see the younger Wilson sitting at a dinner gathering. Sensitive to ambient sounds that he might otherwise incorporate into his music, the collective din of cutlery becomes maddening cacophony until he screams for it to stop, which startles his guests.

In the film's final half-hour, we see Melinda's efforts to free Wilson from Dr. Landy's manic control become an ordeal. Wilson's housemaid uncovers a copy of his will in which the Doctor has made himself sole beneficiary of the estate, which makes it necessary for Carl Wilson to intervene on his brother's behalf. With Melinda's help, the Doctor's terrible machinations are brought to a definitive end.

I really liked Pohlad's film and for many reasons: superlative editing, imaginative visual compositions, top-notch script, et al. But a significant share of the credit for the film's artistic success goes to Paul Dano and John Cusack, whose compelling performances give us a sense of who Brian Wilson was and is. But the supporting cast is no less brilliant. Elizabeth Banks shows us Melinda's compassionate insight while Paul Giamatti conveys Dr. Landy's manipulative self-interest.

I can say I came away from Love and Mercy feeling I got more than just a docudrama about a rock star with his or her head in the music and a foot in the abyss. Pohlad (and the screenwriters) take the time to tell us why Wilson belongs in such rarefied company as Lennon and McCartney, Jagger and Richards or Bruce Springsteen.

As Paul McCartney himself once said, without The Beach Boys' Pet Sounds, there would be no Sgt. Pepper. Though we see the recordings of a few tracks from the Beach Boys' landmark album in the film, we never hear it mentioned nor are we told anything about its impact on rock music.

There is also much more to be said about Wilson's erratic behavior in the period between the late 60s' and the decade thereafter but we can credit the screenwriters for exercising restraint. What we need to know we see. Anything more might be excess.

I think Love and Mercy is one of the better music biopics I've seen in sometime. How easy it would have been for the film to become a tawdry tale of drugs and hyperbolic behavior in the manner of Oliver Stones' The Doors. Pohlad's film may become one of summer's cinematic highlights.

The Wolfpack

Director: Crystal Moselle

Crystal Moselle makes a directorial splash with her documentary The Wolfpack; an often disturbing portrait of a family fettered, detained and all but imprisoned by a father/husband whose hypocritical quest to find freedom for himself, his wife and children imparts a touch of tragic irony to their lives. That Moselle had free access to the family's home is nothing short of astonishing.

In her film, we meet the Angulo family. In the opening scenes, the 6 Angulo brothers are reenacting one of their favorite films; Reservoir Dogs. With extreme fidelity to the dialogue--painstakingly transcribed from the DVD, the brothers film their own version utilizing homemade props and costumes. Though cinephilia is not an unusual passion in America, the degree to which the Angulo brothers express their passion for movies might exceed that of most film-lovers.

Why do the brothers spend an inordinate amount of time watching and making movies? They serve as the boy's lone, cultural outlet in an apartment in which they are denied egress. In their father Oscar's determination to shield his family from the drugs and violence of the outside world, he literally incarcerates the family; leaving the apartment is not an option. His wife, a born and bred American mid-westerner who met Oscar in South America many years before, is also subject to her husband's incarcerative measures. We learn of the father's practice of locking the front door behind him when he leaves the apartment; the only key on his person. In his mission to keep the outside world far from his door, Oscar also forbids his family access to a computer, thereby ensuring their isolation. Incapable of interacting with the world they see from their apartment window and cut-off from social media, the brothers have little else to stimulate their minds and creativity but movies on DVD. I was pleased to learn the brothers recognize the boundaries between movies and reality.

Though Oscar is a presence in the film, the documentary focuses mainly on the Angulo brothers and their young sister. Their thoughts and feelings about their predicament are slowly teased out by Moselle over the course of the eighty-minute film and what we hear and see is surprising. One might expect resentment, which seems to be the emotional default setting but the viewer might not anticipate the fealty shown to a father who exerts tyrannical authority with an iron fist. As the film progresses, we begin to notice rebellion in the brotherly ranks and the Angulo brother's willingness to test their father's authority. One brother manages to escape though not without donning a mask he hopes will prevent his father from recognizing him should he encounter him in the New York City streets. With the impaired judgment of someone who has little experience with the outside world and an overexposure to films, an Angulo boy ventures out into the city wearing a home-crafted version of a mask worn by the Michael Myers character in the horror classic Halloween. Though the choice to conceal his identity is ill-advised, he wanders in and out of stores and various establishments until he is eventually arrested and forced to undergo therapy. One might hope the authorities would finally intervene in the Angulo family's affairs but as Oscar has broken no discernible laws, their problems persist. Therapy proves to be of little value, as the boy (teen, really) demonstrates a fierce loyalty to his mother by divulging nothing that would allow child services to take action.

Seeing work as yet another form of imprisonment, Oscar refuses to earn a living. How does the family survive? We learn the state subsidizes the mother's homeschooling, which serves as a form of income. The family is further served by low-rent.

If lack of contact with the outside world isn't bad enough, we learn from the Angulo brothers that the father is sometimes physically abusive. His violent and erratic behavior is often fueled by excessive drinking, which the family bears with superhuman patience.

One might expect 6 brothers to occasionally interact with one another in physically or verbally aggressive ways but remarkably, the brothers share a mostly peaceful and loving co-existence. If any mutual, latent hostilities exist, it is safe to assume it is all sublimated by the brothers' passionate, cinematic recreations. We see the very powerful bond the brothers share--probably the only positive byproduct of a sheltered existence.

In the latter half of the film, we begin to see Oscar loosen his vise-like hold on the boys, which is also abetted by the older brothers very natural desire to defy their father. It might bring great relief to the viewer to see the brothers finally venturing out into the city as a group; taking the subway and visiting Coney Island. It seems only fitting that their reactions to the world would be peppered with allusions to movies. On seeing the sandy beach at Coney Island, one brother likens the view to something out of Lawrence of Arabia.

In time, the brothers--and their mother--find greater freedom. One brother eventually moves into his own modest apartment; another finds a job as a production assistant while we see the mother taking liberating jogs around the city. To see the family free themselves from Oscar's grip is almost exhilarating.

Whether Oscar feels any guilt for his actions is an issue briefly addressed in the film though his responses to the subject prove to be mostly elusive. And of course many questions abound, such as: how can a father intent on protecting his children from the violence and unpleasantness of the world allow them to consume violent action and horror films? Why don't we see books in the apartment? How can any parent expect their children to survive in a world they know only from films? How did the brothers, given their unusually unhealthy upbringing, become mostly well-adjusted and personable? How Moselle gained access to the family's home and how Oscar agreed to be filmed are two questions the film also doesn't answer. Maybe it's all better left to mystery.

When we see the brothers actually attend a movie in the city, it is shocking to learn it is their first visit to an actual cinema!

We come away from Moselle's film with some sense of hope, which is very welcome. It would be interesting to see what impact freedom has on the respective family members. A follow-up film in five years might make for an affective documentary.

Albert Maysles' influence is being mentioned in the media and it's easy to see why. Moselle manages to capture the family au naturale and with little directorial intrusion. The film won the Grand Jury Prize at the Sundance Film Festival and has nominated at several others around the world. It certainly deserves the accolades.

A film that began as something mildly disturbing ends as something more life-affirming. I hope Moselle's auspicious debut means the documentary world has a new talent. Her film is sure to find a place on many year-end best lists.

The Connection (La French)

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Cedric Jimenez/Starring: Jean Dujardin, Gilles Lellouche, Celine Sallette, Melanie Doutey, and Benoit Magimel

Cedric Jimenez's The Connection could easily be deemed the French perspective of William Friedkin's The French Connection. In Friedkin's film, we see the pervasive impact of the french heroin trade on America, specifically New York. In Jimenez's film, the story and action takes place in Marseilles, which served as a kind of hub for the international drug trafficking scene in the 70s' and 80s'.

Loosely based on real events, the film tells the story of Magistrate Pierre Michel's (Jean Dujardin; best known for The Artist) mission to combat the French mob's drug-trafficking efforts in Marseilles. Having been promoted from a position where contact with junkies was an integral part of his job description, Michel's first-hand knowledge of heroin's deleterious effects on the population made his appointment a sound and logical move.

Gaëtan 'Tany' Zampa (a terrific Gilles Lellouche); a cunning, ruthless and very dangerous crime overlord, manages the heroin trade whose most lucrative market is New York. Targeted by the DEA and the French government, Zampa proves to be elusive prey. With scant evidence with which to convict him, Zampa is able to operate with near impunity. Michel's task force's intensive and exhaustive surveillance and wiretapping efforts yield few results as they discover just how wily Zampa can be.

We see the fiendishly clever methods by which Zampa's organization operates. In cans usually reserved for perishable food items, heroin is sealed therein; the label bearing mundane information about the content it purportedly carries. The deception is but one of many.

Michel's obsessive pursuit leaves his wife Jacqueline (Celine Sallette) impatient and apprehensive.
But Zampa is prone to anxieties of his own. As Michel is keen to point out to his adversary during a rare, face to face encounter; many within his organization covet the drug lord's crown. His assertion is validated when one of Zampa's trusted subordinates, Le Fou (Benoit Magimel) decides to appropriate protection money, which earns him his boss' wrath and a bullet-ridden body. But he survives the near-lethal encounter and shortly thereafter, he goes on retributive rampage, which sparks a war with his former clan. During a hit on one of Zampa's strongholds, two of Zampa's most trusted associates are gunned down, which causes an escalation in hostilities.

In the midst of an arranged meeting between the warlords at a local restaurant heavily surveilled by Michel's men, Le Fou's attempted assassination of Zampa is preempted by plainclothes police. Though Le Fou is arrested, Zampa avoids handcuffs when his gun is quickly concealed by the sympathetic bartender. As Michel arrives on the scene to arrest Zampa, he is humiliated when he learns the mob boss has again avoided self-incrimination. To further humiliate Michel, Zampa walks arrogantly past him; knowing the Magistrate has again come up empty-handed.

In time, Michel's zealous pursuit begins to abrade his relationships with the police commissioner and high-ranking officials in the local government. As a result, he is removed from the case.

But opportunities to arrest Zampa re-emerge and Michel is offered a chance to have himself reinstated in the case. As part of his new campaign to apprehend Zampa, Michel travels to Washington to meet with DEA officials. Michel finds he is highly esteemed by his American colleagues for his courageous pursuit of Zampa.

Michel finds he must contend with his wife's renewed angst but she realizes Michel's resolve is an irresistible force she can't impede.

As the film nears an explosive climax, we see Michel must not only contend with Zampa but the newly-discovered corruption in his department. Knowing he can trust few of his colleagues, he forms a new task force. But, in spite of his courage, Michel is naively unaware of the forces marshaled against him.

The ending is rather downer; a triumphant victory eludes Michel and a case against Zampa is made for reasons having nothing to do with his drug-trafficking.

The film's greatest strength lay in its performances. Lellouche, the hero of Fred Cavaye's terrific film Point Blank, plays a markedly different character in Zampa. He gives us a venom and menace mobster who is greatly troubled by those who would usurp him as well as the loss of his influence. Dujardin continues to build on an excellent body of work. His Magistrate Michel isn't a stiff, morally upright do-gooder but a determined lawman who occasionally compromises his ethics and sacrifices domestic bliss to apprehend Zampa. Dujardin plays him exceptionally well.

The film maintains a steady pace though it could have used more of what Friedkin's movie had in surplus; intensity. I also found myself trying to keep character names and faces straight. But the film is highly entertaining, if not gripping, and if kept me wondering how long a seemingly beleaguered Michel would hold out against Zampa's mob and those supposedly on his side.

The film draws some interesting parallels between Zampa and Michel. Both are family men, though it is odd to think Zampa is more devoted to his wife and children. Both contend with betrayal from within their ranks. It is also interesting to note that neither is the agent of his nemesis' fate.

The Connection is certainly worth a gander, but I think it could have been much better. It certainly isn't a failure but like many good movies, it's few flaws were significant enough to deny it greatness. It is still welcome relief from multiplex muck.