The Stanford Prison Experiment

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Kyle Patrick Alvarez/Starring: Billy Crudup, Michael Angarano, Thomas Mann, Ezra Miller, Tye Sheridan, Johnny Simmons, Nelsan Ellis and Olivia Thirlby

The Stanford Prison Experiment, based on the actual experiment conducted in the early 1970s', isn't the first dramatization of the subject. A German film called The Experiment, released in 2001, was also based on Dr. Philip Zimbardo's infamous test. Director Kyle Patrick Alvarez's story may be the first film based directly on the experiment events. Alvarez's film, like the actual experiment, makes its point with the force of a hundred pile-drivers. It is riveting and nearly becomes unbearable to watch as the test subjects undergo and endure deprivation and humiliation. Zimbardo's quest to gauge test subject's behavior in a potentially combustible scenario; where participants assume the roles of prisoner or guard, forms the basis of the film's narrative. The results are shocking and extraordinary.

Dr. Zimbardo, professor of psychology at Stanford University in the 1960's and 1970s' conducted said experiment, hoping to gain insights into the psychology of prison life.

In the opening scenes, we see the recruitment ad for the experiment, which offers student subjects $15 a day for their participation. The prospective participants answer graduate student's basic questions to evaluate their psychological make-up. It is interesting to note that, on one of the key questions: would you rather be a guard or prisoner; none of the test subjects chose the former. When one student, Christopher Archer (Michael Angarano) is asked why he prefers to be a prisoner, he says "Because nobody wants to be a guard." The graduate students then determine, via a coin-flip, role assignments. Later in the film, the random designations take on a powerful significance Dr. Zimbardo is keen to recognize.

Dr. Zimbardo selects a basement in the psychology hall to erect makeshift prison cells. Guard uniforms, night sticks and sunglasses are provided for one group while degrading, dress-like uniforms, replete with numbers, are assigned to the prisoners.

It is understood among the subjects that Dr. Zimbardo and his group will monitor the proceedings by a semi-concealed camera in the "prison" corridor.

If you've seen any film or read any article on the subject, you know what happens next. Though the experiment is to be of a two-week duration, it yields immediate results as the guards inhabit their roles with uncontrolled zeal. The guards find creative ways to subject the prisoners to spirit-deadening ignominy, such as demanding each "inmate" call out his prison number in needless repetition. Some prisoners are naturally rebellious. Prisoner 8162 (a terrific Ezra Miller) makes a defiant stand against the guards, only to be placed in the Hole; a dark closet in the immediate jail vicinity. His repeated attempts to organize a rebellion is met with fierce resistance by guards and inmates alike, until a mental and physical breakdown is all but assured.

Archer, who affects the manner of the infamous prison guard in Cool Hand Luke, embraces his role with a passion. This is easily facilitated with his intimidating, night-stick baton twirling and the opaque sunglasses, which give the guards a menacing demeanor.

Before long, the prisoners suffer a dramatic loss of identity as their number designations become their only means of identification. This psychic debasement is one of Dr. Zimbardo's sought-after results.

Just as the experiment's unintended success affects both prisoner and inmate alike, Dr. Zimbardo and his staff are also affected in ways they couldn't anticipate. They too become players in the simulation; their stern, near-uncompromising attitude toward the prisoners begins to take on the scary verisimilitude of prison administration. A black consultant named Jesse (a marvelous Nelsan Ellis), whose connection to the experiment is at first nebulous becomes a unnerving presence. Later, during Prisoner 8162's tearful breakdown before Dr. Zimbardo and staff, Jesse's role becomes clearer when he reveals his penal servitude in San Quentin. Thrusting his face forcefully into 8162's,he counters complaints about the horrors "in the basement" with his disclosure about doing seventeen years behind bars.

And as we might expect, the experiment achieves a realism that spins out of Dr. Zimbardo and his staff's control, which leaves the audience wondering if the hostilities can be reigned in before full-scale violence erupts.

The film attains ferocious power, which is made possible by moving, ensemble performances. Billy Crudup is superb. We feel his fascination and revulsion but are repulsed by his morbid curiosity to keep pushing the experiment forward long after it yields sufficient data. Michael Angarano and Ezra Miller, two of the principal subjects, seize the opportunity to shine on camera as we've seldom seen before. The rest of the cast is no less startling.

What was initially a two-week experiment is stretched to an unbearable intensity only after six days.

The film stimulates much thought about the prison system and its inherent inhumanity, as well as the haphazard, social circumstances that make an inmate of one man and a prison guard of another. When Jesse and a graduate analyze Prisoner 8162's rebellious tendencies and his subsequent breakdown, Dr. Zimbardo offers a concise, devastating and scientific counter-assessment. He points out, quite correctly, that Prisoner 8162's and Archer's roles were determined by a coin flip; a chance occurrence that resonates with profound, social implications in the real world.
The experiment makes its point cogently and conclusively; the results undeniable. The same can be said for Alvarez's film.

The epilogue is as telling as the experiment, particularly when Archer and Daniel Culp (nee Prisoner 8162) discuss the experience. Daniel is dismayed to learn Archer was conducting his own mini-experiment. He tells Daniel that he wanted to test the prisoners endurance for abusive language and was surprised, he says, when no one challenged him. This too is stirring, for it suggests that all prisoners are complicit, to some degree or another, in their own abuse.

It is interesting to consider how simple it was for a professor to create an oppressive atmosphere by merely simulating one. The movie's most unsettling revelation may be that everyone is capable of becoming an oppressor and worse still, may relish its most heinous aspects.

Post film subtitles tell us no one was seriously affected by the experiment but one wonders.

Alvarez's film left me feeling shaken, in spite of my familiarity with the subject and my having seen The Experiment.
The Stanford Prison Experiment dramatizes its subject well; maybe too well but it is powerful and thought-provoking. It raises so many questions about human nature; our innate capacity for cruelty and sadism and maybe our tolerance for the abusive tendencies of superiors.

It's safe to say the film is a misfit in this summer movie schedule and I'm glad for that. Let's hope its stay in the theaters isn't ephemeral, though it may be consigned to that fate. See it while and if you can.

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Alfonso Gomez-Rejon/Starring: Thomas Mann, RJ Cyler, Olivia Cooke, Connie Britton, Nick Offerman, Molly Shannon and John Bernthal

Director Alfonso Gomez-Rejon's Me and Earl and the Dying Girl, based on a novel by the same name by screenwriter Jesse Andrews, is an uneven effort, unfortunately. Original in some moments, it is less so in others. When it goes right, it's very right and when it doesn't, it doesn't exactly stumble but it doesn't step gracefully either. Its poignance and power arrives late in the third act, while the first half of the film is a mosaic of hit and miss moments.

The story begins as any teen-angsty, independent film might, as Greg (Thomas Mann, in a career-elevating role), the film's unreliable narrator and main subject, tells us in voice-over about his senior year of high school, which was also the worst year of his life. But Greg isn't always a suspect narrator, for his self-assessments can be objective, as when he talks about where he fits in the high school social hierarchy. Belonging to none of the cliques we recognize from personal experience: jocks, drama geeks, etc., Greg informs us he has survived high school by gaining acceptance by all the various factions. But though he maintains some kind of detente with the myriad social groups, he is also is a loner; though partly by design.

Greg's mother (Connie Britton), informs him one day that his classmate, Rachel, has been diagnosed with Leukemia. She suggests (coerces is more like it) he visit her, hoping comfort by a classmate might do her some good. Greg protests, pleading mutual non-acquaintance, but he goes anyway.

The initial meeting is less than auspicious. Greg insensitively and callously tells a puzzled Rachel (Olivia Cooke) that his mother put him up to it, which only makes an already awkward situation unpleasant. But Greg's offbeat sense of humor and shaggy charm nevertheless rates him a visit to her room. Casual conversation leads them eventually to the subject of her illness. The two share a laugh about how best to respond to people who make platitudinous comments about her Leukemia. As the two begin to warm to one another, Greg tells us in voice-over narration that the audience should not expect the story to veer into a passionate romance, as it's "not that kind of story." And as Greg begins to visit Rachel on what seems like a daily basis, she meets his friend Earl (a very funny RJ Cyler). Since Earl has known him since childhood (seen in flashback), he tells Rachel that he is the closest thing Greg has to a friend. Earl tells Rachel that his quasi-friendship with Greg is mainly a collaboration. Greg explains how he and Earl make short movies that are essentially re-imaginings of classic films, which are also ridiculously retitled. One example is Midnight Cowboy, which in Greg and Earl's version is 2:48 Cowboy. The films are self-consciously silly and though they never let anyone view them, they make a special dispensation for Rachel.

In more voice-over, we learn that Earl lives in the more economically-stressed part of town, while Greg's neighborhood is decidedly middle-class.

Unable to sit in the school cafeteria for lunch, with its rigid, social caste system, Greg and Earl occupy their history teacher's office to watch movies. Their teacher; Mr. McCarthy (Jon Bernthal) is the kind of teacher who exists only in movies; heavily tattooed and hip, he is a source of wisdom and forbearance for the young men.

Though Greg tells us in his narration that Rachel will survive, we become more skeptical as the film progresses. Rachel's chemo-induced hair-loss and her protracted stay at home and the hospital provide ample doubt. As Greg's visits become regular, he begins to neglect his school studies, in spite of his acceptance to Penn State.

What does Rachel's condition mean to Greg, whose self and self-loathing seem to occupy his mind the most? Others begin to call him on his behavior, including Rachel, who sees Greg's visits and his application to Penn State as two instances where his actions are forced upon him by others rather than being self-determined. Earl takes him to task for treating Rachel like a burden while Greg's school crush Madison (Katherine C. Hughes), urges him forcefully to make a film for Rachel; a kind of tribute from family, friends and students.

As Earl and Greg interview people for the film, they find the responses are obliviously insensitive and appallingly trite.

After a brief period of not-seeing Rachel, Greg visits her at the hospital on prom-night, in a tux, where he sets up a projector for her to see the film he and Earl have made for her. Everything in the film builds to this moment, as Rachel's condition suddenly becomes dire as Greg's film plays on the hospital room wall. While the hospital staff react desperately to Rachel's physical emergency, she reacts powerfully to Greg's mesmerizing and beautiful film.

Based on the trailer, one might expect Gomez-Rejon's film to be an upbeat, offbeat comedy but the grave second half of the story attains a searing poignancy.

Though we're supposed to notice Greg's character arc, the film fails to show it. In the end, we hear Rachel in voice-over speak of Greg's self-sacrifice and his numerous virtues though I had a hard time accepting her word. He does show genuine compassion for Rachel at times but for the most part, his egoism shows a frightful consistency.

As mentioned earlier, Gomez-Rejon's camera work was quite imaginative. The hallways, Mr. McCarthy's office and the cafeteria are shot (and designed) to appear as very narrow, constricting spaces while a wide-angle lens gives Rachel's room almost exaggerated, expansive proportions.

I particularly enjoyed Olivia Cooke's and RJ Cyler's performances. Cooke didn't play Rachel as an object of pity or of graceful suffering but as someone who sees her terminal illness as an a kind of annoyance. Cyler says little but he is often quite funny and his scene where his confronted by Greg is quite moving. I would have liked to know more about their characters but like everyone else in the film; they were merely planetoids in the universe called Greg.

Why is Greg the main character in this story? Why don't we know more about Rachel, whose inner life makes an appearance late in the film, when Greg wanders among her possessions in her bedroom? In the end, it is she who shows a more selfless side and is everything Greg should be.

I found the endless movie references exhausting and the use of Les Blank's documentary on the making of Fitzcarraldo; The Burden of Dreams, a glaring affectation though Greg's impersonation of Werner Herzog writing an entrance essay to the college board is amusing.

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl is a difficult movie to write about because it can't be dismissed or assigned unconditional, fulsome praise. It is a film to see but is it a must see? It will no doubt elicit a stronger reaction from younger film-goers. Whether it impacts an older audience remains to be seen.

Welcome to Me

**Spoiler Alert**

Director Shira Piven/Starring: Kristen Wiig, Wes Bentley, Joan Cusack, Jennifer Jason Leigh, James Marsden, Tim Robbins, Linda Cardellini and Thomas Mann

Shira Piven's Welcome to Me is one of those films that is so self-consciously weird that its weirdness becomes a tiresome contrivance. It goes well out of its way to be strange but at times it can elicit a chuckle when it isn't trying too hard to be bizarre. Director Shira Piven's film makes a reasonably good entrance, only to stumble then drag itself to a whimsical end.

Kristen Wiig plays Alice Klieg, a manic-depressive living in the fictional southern Californian town of Palm Desert. She spends part of her days in therapy, where Dr. Daryl Moffet (Tim Robbins) administers psychiatric guidance and prescriptions. The other part are spent in front of the T.V., idolizing Oprah Winfrey; lip-syncing her on-screen patter and gleaning morsels of Oprah-wisdom dispensed on air.

Among Alice's possessions are small stacks of losing lottery tickets. In an early scene, Alice tunes in to a televised lottery drawing. As the numbers are called, we see that Alice has won the $86 million (actually a lesser amount for a lump sum) jackpot. Ecstatic and dumbfounded, she can barely breath the words "I'm a winner" into the phone to claim the prize. True to her eccentric nature, she makes a hotel casino her second home then gathers her family and friends for a celebratory meal.

Enthralled with Oprah and her inspirational words, Alice and her friend Gina (Linda Cardellini), visit a live taping of an infomercial at a local T.V. station. During the show, when the host Gabe Ruskin (Wes Bentley) asks for a volunteer to demonstrate a product's effectiveness, Alice is only too eager to walk on stage. The show producer and staff in the booth express dismay when the erratic Alice, commandeers the show with her off-the-wall volatility.

Afterwards, the two brothers who control the station's content; Gabe and Rich Ruskin (James Marsden) invite Alice into their conference room to meet with the production staff. In the course of discussion, Alice lets it be known she wants her own show and when asked what it would be about, she says, "me." Of course the staff, including producer Dawn Hurley (Joan Cusack) and Deb Moseley (Jennifer Jason Leigh) voice their objections, only to be silenced by Alice's $15 million dollar check, which covers the projected production cost of her show.

I don't know about other film-goers, but I always find it excruciating to watch a film about a lottery winner who is hell-bent on squandering his/her fortune on frivolous nonsense. At this point in the film, the total and imminent exhaustion of the fortune seems like a fait accompli.

The show, with its zeitgeist-appropriate title Welcome to Me is naturally a bizarre spectacle that could have been the brainchild of David Lynch and Luis Bunuel.

The show begins with Alice arriving on a swan followed by re-enactments of slights suffered by Alice during her life, which share air-time with cooking segments featuring outlandish and unpalatable culinary creations, like a frosting-topped meatloaf. The staff, looking on in the booth, watch incredulously. The show manages to draw viewers and even a few admirers.

Gabe begins to have qualms about his brother's willingness to exploit Alice. Before long, Gabe and Alice begin a romance, which catches a snag during one of her rage-filled, flights of mental instability. Her erratic behavior and emotional vulnerability begin to impair her judgement. Alice has a fling with a fawning fan named Rainer Ybarra (Thomas Mann) which doesn't escape Gabe's notice.

As the show continues on its weird course and Alice's un-medicated self holds the production staff captive, her self-involved antics begin to wear on her loved ones, particularly her best friend Gina.

I suppose Piven's film is commentary on the narcissism gripping the country and it makes a convincing case of its pandemic reach. Approaching the topic with absurdist humor is a good way to go but the film asphyxiates in its weirdness. Don't get me wrong; I like weird but when it's a film's selling point rather than an element of its storytelling, it becomes a tiresome affectation, as it is here. As the story progresses, Alice's condition becomes less funny and more tedious.

A film like Welcome to Me could only end happily, which it does. Alice comes to acknowledge her ego-centrism and makes an extraordinarily selfless gesture to her best friend Gina.

The supporting cast was quite terrific when given their time though most are consigned to straight-men roles. When you have actors like Robbins and Cusack; who wield considerable comedic ability, exiled to the margins, it becomes a liability.

As previously stated, the film generates a modicum of laughs but I mostly found the movie to be a one-note joke. If manic-depressive narcissists are your company of choice, then Piven's film is for you. I suppose there is a better comedy out there dealing with this small cross-section of American society but that's another film. At least this one makes a case for not skipping one's meds.