Youth

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Paolo Sorrentino/Starring: Michael Caine, Harvey Keitel, Rachel Weisz, Paul Dano and Jane Fonda

Paolo Sorrentino has established himself as one of film's premier visual stylists, as is evident with his new film Youth; a beautifully surreal story that induces a state that is something akin to narcotized bliss. It is also a film that challenges our perceptions; leaving us unable to properly sort fantasy from reality; dreams from waking consciousness. It leads us many places and when we think we have a firm grasp of what may be happening or what we may have seen, its final scene reminds us of how foolish we are to believe everything we see.
And as one might expect, youth and old age are pervasive themes but Sorrentino also has much to say about artists and how they are often helpless in controlling perception of their own work.

Sorrentino's story takes place in an alpine resort, where an American film director named Mick Boyle (a terrific Harvey Keitel) spends time working on the skeleton for a story with his creative team for his next project. Also at the resort is Mick's British friend Fred Ballinger (Michael Caine; also terrific); a celebrated composer who is approached by the Queen's emissary to request a performance of the works for which he is most known; music he believes to be his most accessible. The scene where the emissary pleads with Ballinger reveals the composer's stubbornness, as he refuses the Queen's request. Why Ballinger would refuse such a prestigious performance is revealed later.

As we get to know some of the resort guests, we also get to know the resort and its breathtaking surroundings. The majestic spread of mountain peaks and the green, grassy hillsides provide a beautiful backdrop for the dramas that unfold in and around the hotel.

Among other people we meet at the resort is a young American actor named Jimmy Tree, who, like Ballinger, is famous for work he is not especially proud of; that of a robot in a big budget Hollywood production. Another artist in retreat is a rotund man who we can guess is some sort of musician of international renown. His very presence elicits stares and later a mob of autograph seekers.

But we see other guests and the hotel personnel, whose mysterious lives beg examination but remain riddles for our tantalized imagination. One such example is a couple that provides bemusement and amusement for Fred and Mick, who bet on whether the the silent, uncommunicative pair will actually speak to one another at dinner. Seemingly suffering from mutual loathing, we discover later the couple feel anything but.

But at the story's center is Fred and Mick's friendship, which stretches back decades. Now in old age, the friend's keep tabs on the other's health; going so far as to share information about their latest micturition. While Fred wanders about the grounds and enjoys the resorts spa accommodations, Mick brainstorms with his young collaborators as they try to hammer out a story from volleyed ideas.

Sorrentino's storytelling methods are never conventional. As the story progresses, we begin to wonder if what we are seeing is real or some kind of dream. Strikingly odd images, such as one of expressionless guests walking slowly in a queue or a medium shot of reclining patrons in a pool make one feel the hotel is some sort of strange afterlife or weigh station for souls.

Ballinger's daughter Lena (Rachel Weisz), who also serves as his assistant, leaves the resort to join her boyfriend-who also happens to be Mick's son-on a Malaysian holiday, only to return when she discovers he is in love with another woman. The awkwardness of the problem become uncomfortably acute for Fred and Mick, particularly when Lena's boyfriend shows up with his new paramour.

Adding to Lena's misery is her relationship with her father, which has never been ideal. A poignant scene comes later in the film during Fred and Lena's massage, when she expresses her disappointment and anger about Fred's failings as a father. What comes to light are his numerous infidelities and his dalliance with a man; all at the expense of a wife who overlooked his unsavory, extracurricular activities. The shot of their ill-clad bodies are an apt visual metaphor for truths laid bare; naked truths in near naked bodies.

Images of youthful bodies juxtaposed with old and infirm frames are common; always calling attention to the film's overarching theme. Fred and Mick, though hardly blind to the youthful allure of the goddess-like perfection of female bodies who lounge near the pool, never try to mitigate their fading virility by trying to seduce them. In a Hollywood movie, Fred and Mick would try to bed the young women to salve the egos of the male audience.

One of my favorite scenes in the film takes place on the summit of a ski-run, as Mick and his young team look out over the incredible alpine peak expanse. In trying to explain to the young gathering how one's perspective changes as one grows old, Mick has one member of his group peer through both ends of an observation scope to vividly illustrate his point.

While Ballinger receives the Queen's emissary again for another summons, Lena's heartbreak takes an unexpected turn into good fortune. Meanwhile an actress Mick collaborated with many times in the past and whose participation in his movie guarantees it being made arrives at the hotel to give him disappointing news. The conversation that follows unearths old animosities and unbearable truths.
As for Ballinger, we see what has become of his wife during a scene where he pays her a visit in Venice. The way he lovingly gazes at his wife tells us the marriage wasn't necessarily the disaster Lena has portrayed it to be.

The film ends with a tragedy and a triumph though the last shot leaves some doubt as to whether anything we've seen is truth, a dream or merely the product of imagination.

As in his film The Great Beauty, Sorrentino's fascination with the themes of youth/beauty is very conspicuous. And in exploring said themes, he never succumbs to sentimentality nor does he try to spin the grim realities of aging into something fuzzy and golden. For Sorrentino, old age dispenses many bitter and ugly truths about one's life and relationships, which we disguise or rewrite into palatable lies. And as the characters try desperately to stave off old age and physical atrophy in the hotel's saunas, swimming pools and massage rooms, so too do they mend and rehabilitate truth to allow themselves to live.

Aside from the lovely camera work, the performances ground an otherwise otherworldly film. Harvey Keitel gives one of his most affecting performances while Michael Caine's Ballinger has a past that is almost irredeemably messy; a flawed history expressed in his weary face. Rachel Weisz almost steals the show with several, fine scenes; most notably in her angry monologue during said massage.

I haven't seen another film like Youth in this year-end movie season. In fact, I haven't seen a film like Sorrentino's in some time. His style almost seems like some kind of throwback to a time when filmmakers weren't afraid to marry story to surreal imagery; as we see so often in David Lynch's films.

What we ultimately see onscreen is magical and intoxicating. In a season of exceptional films, Sorrentino's stands on its own. He has firmly established himself as one of Italy's major cinematic talents in the 21st century.

This is Where I Leave You

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Shawn Levy/Starring: Justin Bateman, Jane Fonda, Rose Byrne, Tina Fey, Kathryn Hahn, Adam Driver, Connie Britton, Timothy Olyphant and Corey Stoll

I wonder if Hollywood will ever tire of comedy/dramas centered around families gathering at a funerals. I've seen three such films this year: the awful August: Osage County, the awfuler Lullaby (which employs a dying father as motivation for a family to gather) and now This is Where I Leave You, which is not the awfulest of the tribe but pretty damn close. All the films use the done-to-death funeral plot contrivance as a way for characters to air out grievances, address past wrongs and renew old familial feuds.

Shawn Levy's film, based on a novel by Jonathan Tropper, employs all the familiar aforementioned narrative traits. And like other movies of this breed, it becomes unbearably monotonous...and fast. That Levy assembled such a talented cast for this nonsense is quite impressive but it becomes less so when it becomes clear they have nothing to say, though they say it compulsively. Whenever anyone feels the need to verbalize, which is frequently, they spew stagy dialogue where everyone has a pithy rejoinder to a smart-ass or self-consciously inappropriate comment.

The story centers on Justin Bateman's character Judd Altman; a producer of a popular shock-jock radio show whose star Wade Beaufort (Dax Shepard) is the Platonic ideal of jerkitude. When Judd arrives home early one day with a birthday cake for his wife, he finds Wade in bed with his wife. If that isn't enough of a cross to bear, he also receives a phone call from his sister Wendy (Tina Fey), informing him of their father's death.

As Judd's family gathers for the funeral, we meet each member and become acquainted with their quirks, personal issues and internecine, sibling strife.

Hilary Altman (Jane Fonda), the family matriarch, has just lost her husband and though bereaved, wears mourning attire that highlights her newly augmented breasts. This becomes joke-fodder for the family, which left me feeling queasy. I don't know if it's a cultural norm with those of the Jewish persuasion, but we hear the Altman family make many explicit comments about sex, particularly when it involves siblings or the mother. I'm no prude, but I would think most families would find sharing comments about their mother's breasts and their brother's masturbatory habits taboo subjects. As Judd and his mother lay out a basement bed for his stay, Hilary's breasts dangle from her bathrobe. After urging his mother to cover up, she gently chides him for finding the sight of her breasts objectionable.

Judd's family and extended family arrive at Hilary's home with their respective life-baggage. Wendy's husband is emotionally unavailable and overly devoted to his career, brother Phillip (Adam Driver) is unemployed, unemployable and in therapy, and another brother Paul (Corey Stoll) is having trouble impregnating his wife while also struggling to maintain control of the family sporting goods business, of which the siblings all share part-ownership.

Phillip also has his therapist/girlfriend in tow; Tracy (Connie Britton), an older woman whose attraction to the younger man conflicts with her misgivings about his immaturity and penchant for seeing other women.

What one is wont to find in films of this variety are former classmates, crushes or friends the characters encounter. Judd runs into Penny (Rose Byrne), a former schoolmate for whom he develops a romantic interest. His volatile relationship with his wife of course complicates the attraction.
Wendy also has her romantic furnace stoked by family friend and sporting goods employee Horry Callen (Timothy Olyphant). Horry is afflicted with a mild mental impairment which stems from a head injury he received while in Wendy's company during an accident in the past. Like Judd's affection for Penny, Wendy's attraction to Horry fills an emotional void in her marriage and represents some unfinished, romantic business. Upon the first meetings between Judd and Penny and Wendy and Horry, we know intuitively--as if it were written in sky--where these sub-plot developments will lead.

It seems impossible to square Phillip's ability to charm women with his personality. How any woman could find such an a-hole supernova like Phillip attractive sorely tests our ability to suspend disbelief. Adam Driver seems to have no difficulty playing such obnoxious lunkheads, for only recently he played another in What If. I sincerely hope he strays from this pigeon-holing in the future otherwise he may not be able to play anything else convincingly.

It seems Jane Fonda can only appear in a film (these days, anyway) to show us how great she looks. Of course she can hardly be blamed for her character limitations when Hollywood has no idea how woman older than 40 behave and think. And they don't want to know. It is mind-blowing to consider Fonda is now 77 though her figure is that of someone less than half her age. If only someone could and would write her a character with some depth and dimension to challenge her beauty.

As the family occupies Hilary's house, animosities arise and secrets are unearthed. Most character's secrets seem to be revealed like clockwork; every 15 minutes or so, which are followed by blather like "why didn't you tell us/me?," and glib jokes and comments. When Hilary divulges her big secret near the end, it comes off more as a plot accessory rather than something plausibly organic. And what is typical of this genre is behavior that screams "though we're dysfunctional, aren't we so quirky and lovable?"

I saw the film with a capacity crowd, one that laughed uproariously at what I found to be somewhat clever but unfunny jokes or gags. Some aren't so clever. Paul's son's potty-training tendencies, which involve his hauling his potty around, are played for laughs but are just painfully cutesy.

A crowd's reaction is never a reliable gauge of a film's comedic or dramatic value. Though it is fun to watch a film with a large audience, collective laughter or applause can distort one's perception of the film. Over the din of laughter, I somehow managed to see through the formulae and the stock characterizations. I'm sure critics and other filmgoers will too.

I really wished I could have told the characters to shut up for five minutes. The noise generated by the family's incessant chatter made my head hurt. When smart-alecky jokes and jibes weren't being sprayed like buckshot, dime-store platitudes made reliable surrogates.

I may have to avoid films like This is Where I Leave You forever hereafter. But given my inability to ever learn a lesson, I could very well grouse next time too.