Midnight Special

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Jeff Nichols/Starring: Michael Shannon, Joel Edgerton, Kirsten Dunst, Adam Driver, Sam Shepard, Jaeden Lieberher and Bill Camp

Jeff Nichols, director of the creepy and intense Take Shelter, now ventures into the sci-fi realm with Midnight Special, which comes with its own measure of intensity. Joining Nichols is his frequent collaborator; the always impressive Michael Shannon, whose tightly-wound performance ensures the drama always simmers. While maintaining an exciting, kinetic pace, the story's mysteries are dispensed sparingly until its wondrous climax--which elicits a sense of wonder--mitigates the film's heightened edginess.

Nichols' film begins in what is a chapel on the grounds of a doomsday cult compound in Texas. The cult's reverend, Calvin Meyer (Sam Shepard), has just been accosted by FBI personnel during his service, while his bewildered congregation looks on. Questioning the reverend behind closed doors, we learn the FBI is looking for Meyer's adopted son Alton (Jaeden Lieberher); a child the parish looks upon as their savior. Why would a little boy be of importance to both the government and a cult? NSA analyst Paul Sevier (Adam Driver) gets to the heart of the matter when he asks how and why a little boy would have encrypted codes to a government satellite?
The boy becomes more of a mystery when Meyer tells the agents the boy speaks in tongues.

As the FBI and NSA hunt for Alton, Meyer dispatches two cult members to find the boy and return him to the compound. Meanwhile, Alton's real father; Roy (Michael Shannon) and his best friend Lucas (Joel Edgerton) have taken the boy from the compound and are racing off to a place unknown to the audience. Judging from Roy and Lucas' desperate determination, we gather they are fully aware other interested parties are hot on their tail as they speed down the highway. We first catch a glimpse of Alton in Roy's car as we see the young boy in odd, blue goggles, though we aren't sure of their purpose. As Roy and Lucas plot their course, Alton is enthralled with a Superman comic book. Roy gently chides Lucas for giving Alton comic books after the boy asks about Kryptonite. We learn comic books were a pleasure denied Alton in the compound.

While on the run, their car becomes known to the authorities, making a safe refuge a high priority. They visit a former member of the cult, who offers them shelter and anonymity. During their stay, the house begins to shake violently, which prompts Roy and Lucas to enter Alton's bedroom, where they find a blinding ray of light connecting his eyes to this friend's. Roy and Lucas manage to free their friend from the link and scold their friend for daring to look into Alton's eyes. Their security compromised, Roy, Lucas and Alton flee.

Nichols; a master at holding the audience captive in an unnerving and sustained state of suspense, slowly reveals Alton's secrets. Though the origin of Alton's extraordinary powers is withheld until later in the film, we get some sense of the scope of his abilities. During a stop at convenience store, Alton wanders away from the vehicle and into the parking lot. There he stares at the sky until Roy hurries to his side from inside the store. As they both look up into the sky, they (and we) see glowing orbs of light, which begin to bombard the parking lot. The three drive away hurriedly and later, during the FBI and NSA's investigation, we find that Alton has essentially destroyed a satellite designed to warn against nuclear attack. Other, less destructive powers emerge. While driving, Alton begins to speak Spanish. Roy tells Lucas that it is something he does often and while turning the radio dial, we find that Alton is actually repeating a Spanish DJ's radio patter word for word.

Roy and Lucas manage to find Alton's mother Sarah (Kirsten Dunst), who takes them in and hides them. We find that Sarah gave up her son in the past due to her inability to care for him.

Alton is ultimately kidnapped after Meyer's armed thugs shoot Lucas and Roy. But before they can give chase, they discover Alton has been captured by the military and government agents.

During Alton's captivity, he is held in an empty, white room. His goggled face gives the impression of someone strange and alien. In one of the film's best scenes, Alton and Sevier meet inside the chamber while the other personnel are dismissed. Alton tells Sevier that he is neither the savior the cult craves nor the weapon the government believes he is. Sevier becomes sympathetic to Alton's plight, knowing the boy must reach the place which his father and Lucas intend to find. After helping Alton to reunite with Roy and Lucas, Sevier handcuffs himself to make it appear as though he was overpowered. Refusing Sevier's request to come along, Alton, Roy, Lucas and Sarah speed away.

In time, Alton finally reveals his true nature and why he must reach the area for which he and the others have risked their lives.

Nichols doesn't cheat the audience with anti-climactic nonsense but satisfies our intense curiosity about the boy. The movie's otherworldly, uplifting end is a fascinating, dramatic counterpoint to the scary, sometimes violent story that precedes it.

What is particularly interesting about Nichol's film is how he chooses to parcel out expository information, which is always dispensed on a need-to-know basis. Without becoming bogged down in clunky, pace-hobbling, explication, Nichols keeps the audience wired by doling out discrete quanta of information about the characters and Alton's mission. Though the movie moves along at brisk clip, Nichols keeps the story and action tight.

Nichols collaborations with Shannon have been fruitful and succeeds again. It is an exceptional trick of casting to have Joel Edgerton; another actor known for his edgy performances, to play Shannon's sidekick. I was surprised to see Kirsten Dunst; I hadn't seen her in a film in some years but she holds her own against two dramatic stalwarts; Shannon and Edgerton.

I find distressing to learn Nichols' film is only playing in very select theaters. I never saw one advertisement or trailer for the film. How is such a terrific film supposed to find an audience when little care has been assigned its promotion? Is it because Shannon and Edgerton aren't Chris Hemsworth or Ryan Reynolds in the handsome hunk department? A major disservice has been done to this film. It deserves far better.

Like 10 Cloverfield Lane, Nichols' film appropriates a genre to tell a compelling and thrilling story. It moves along, never forgetting its audience and it rewards us for our attention. It promises and doesn't renege.

Hello, My Name is Doris

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Michael Showalter/Starring: Sally Field, Tyne Daly, Max Greenfield, Natasha Lyonne, Elizabeth Reaser, Stephen Root, Wendi McLendon-Covey and Peter Gallagher

Sally Field is an infrequent sight on movie screens these days but when she does appear, she is memorable. She acquitted herself very well in Spielberg's Lincoln and has again in the recent Hello, My Name is Doris; director Michael Showalter's new comedy. Field is an old hat at comedy; having honed her talent on T.V. in shows like Gidget and The Flying Nun. She brings her quirky charm to her new role, which helps brighten the story considerably. Though Showalter's film is unassuming, it manages to be fun and surprisingly entertaining.

Sally Field plays Doris Miller; a dowdy, aging, unmarried woman who toils at a job as a data-entry clerk in a Brooklynese company where she is surrounded by younger, hipper co-workers. Unlike her colleagues, who reside in the trendy borough to the south, Doris ferries to work from her home on the less-hip Staten Island; a fact that isn't lost on at least one of her co-workers.

Doris spends her days with her close friend Roz (Tyne Daly, who makes a small part crackle) and resisting her brother Todd's efforts to clear their deceased mother's house of accumulated junk, which she stubbornly refuses to shed. Doris finds herself at odds with Todd's wife Cynthia (Wendi McLendon-Covey), who is more insistent about the junk-removal. The situation becomes problematic; prompting Todd to force his sister to see a therapist about her pack-rat problem.

But for Doris, a more significant development unfolds at her job. A young and handsome, newly-transferred employee in upper-management named John Fremont(Max Greenfield) makes Doris' acquaintance in the elevator on his first day, where they find themselves pressed awkwardly against each other. During his introduction to the staff, he surprises Doris and the young employees when he mentions meeting her in the elevator. Thrilled about John's recollection, Doris begins fantasizing about romantic encounters between them; only to be jarred back to reality at inopportune times.

Smitten by his charms, Doris and Roz's grand-daughter invent a Facebook persona to find out more about him, including his favorite band. Doris buys a CD of the band and casually leaves it lying on her desk for John to see, which he does. Thrilled that John notices it, she buys a ticket for their concert in Brooklyn. She also surprises her brother and sister-in-law the day of the concert when she abruptly excuses herself from a dinner to catch a ferry to see the band. Of course she runs into John at the show, and his ecstatic response at seeing Doris only intensifies her attraction and her hopes of romancing him. The story takes a fantastic, barely plausible turn when the band notices Doris in the audience and ask to meet her after the show. Enchanted by her colorful concert-wear and her unique sense of style, they invite her to be on the cover for their new CD.

As Doris falls further for John, she ignores the possibility that his interest in her could be strictly platonic though Roz, more attuned to reality, warns her; afraid her friend may be hurt.

During the course of the story, we learn more about Doris' past. We learn the company decided to keep her after it merged with another company. We also learn of a broken engagement to a man who moved to Flagstaff, expecting her to follow, only to find Doris was unable to leave her mother alone. The scene where she shares this story with John is quite touching.

Later we learn that she sacrificed college and a life to care for her mother while her brother pursued his ambitions. This sore spot in their relationship is addressed during a scene where Doris, her therapist Dr. Edwards (Elizabeth Reaser), Todd and Cynthia gather to deal with the clutter in Doris' mother's house. Though the doctor's efforts to assist in sorting the junk are helpful, Cynthia's impatience brings the already combustible situation to a head; causing Doris to explode. She forces everyone out but not before mentioning her sacrifices for personal happiness to her brother.
The junk Doris intends to hold onto is a pretty handy metaphor for the anger and disappointment of her past from which she refuses to free herself.

Doris experiences a painful setback in her pursuit of John when she discovers he is seeing a young, blonde beauty. Following them one night as they stroll the city, she finds she is unable to avoid running into them. John introduces her to his girlfriend, who immediately takes to Doris; inviting her to a social knitting circle. Doris' passion for John culminates during a Thanksgiving dinner for his friends when she finally expresses her feelings for him. What follows seems inevitable and unsurprising and it precedes some radical change in her life. In the end, Doris realizes she must make amends to Roz, who she has forsaken in her fantastic flights of romance.

Showalter's story is mainly about Doris' awakening and her search for self-affirmation. In earlier scenes, she becomes enchanted with the advice of self-help guru Willy Williams (Peter Gallagher, perfectly cast for the role), who dispenses motivational advice she takes to heart. One of Williams' go-to self-help gems finds utility when he insists impossible is really a contraction of I'm-Possible.

In the final scene, the audience is tricked one last time into believing one of her fantasies is real, but a ambiguous moment thereafter renders the story and her life open to possibilities. In the end, she comes to realize her friendship with Roz is all-sustaining.

Showalter's film isn't great and I feel I've seen some of it elsewhere but works on its own modest terms. Some of it is overwrought and overstated. Doris' look is a little too dowdy and matronly to be real (particularly her horn-rimmed glasses). But Sally Field makes us care about Doris. She has had her disappointments and one failed relationship but she isn't pathetic or needy.

Hello, My Name is Doris is a pleasing indie flick that is small but not small-minded. Sally Field is a joy to watch;giving one of her better comedic performances in some time. Many of her roles in the last decade or so have been very serious but here she reminds us that her roots are in comedy. Her Doris is not to be pitied but liked. It is safe to say I feel the same for the film.

I Saw the Light

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Marc Abraham/Starring: Tom Hiddleston, Elizabeth Olsen, Bradley Whitford, Cherry Jones, Maddie Hasson and David Krumholtz

I don't know if the world needs a narrative film on country music great Hank Williams but you can be sure it didn't need a sloppy, clunky and junky biopic like director Marc Abraham's I Saw the Light. If a film features a name cast but opens only in one local theater, you can be pretty sure industry folk know something you don't and what they know they deliberately withhold. They only hope you'll overlook the stench wafting out of the theater and throw caution and greenbacks to the wind. A what a reek Abraham's film generates! If you didn't know the subject was Hank Williams, you might think the movie was about any philandering, drunk musician. But its single greatest flaw is its casual regard for Williams' music, which the story treats almost as an intrusion; a pesky interloper that keeps getting in the way of the seamier side of the singer's life.

The trendy aesthetic the film adopts is the black and white to color imagery seen in another current music biopic; Born to Be Blue. We see and hear two men from William's life; filmed in the recollective black and white of the present while their memories--depicted in color--represent the past. One of the men; famed music publisher Fred Rose (Bradley Whitford), shares facts of Williams' life with an unseen interviewer (documentarian?). Rose appears periodically throughout the film as a kind of narrator and purveyor of tragic details though we never learn just who he is talking to.

We see Williams (Tom Hiddleston) just before he achieves super-stardom; playing radio gigs and honky-tonks in his Alabamian home-state with his band and wife Audrey (Elizabeth Olsen), who lends her vocals to the performances. Shortly thereafter, we see the couple exchange vows at a gas station in Andalusia, Alabama, as the proprietor performs the service. Though the couple shows outward signs of marital bliss, Audrey experiences frustration as she tries to share the stage spotlight with her husband. But she finds her marriage trying for other reasons; one of them being her mother-in-law Lillie (Cherry Jones, who is continually upstaged by set props), who she battles constantly for influence in Hank's life. Another glaring issue is Hank's drinking, which threatens the marriage and becomes a professional liability.

Eager and ambitious, Hank's dream of playing at the Grand Ole Opry hits a snag when the legendary venue's director tells him to come back when he has achieved more success. Undeterred, Hank is able to record a single, Lovesick Blues, over Rose's protestations about the song's suitability. The single becomes a hit and before long, Williams receives an invitation to perform at the Opry.

As Williams' sordid behavior on the road becomes habitual, Audrey begins to express her disgust with his womanizing and before long Hank finds himself barred from their home. Soon after, divorce proceedings commence.

When not enthralled with the dramas offstage, the film manages to devote some time to Williams onstage; performing some of the songs for which he is known. Hiddleston does a respectable job performing the songs and doing his level best to appear Williams-like. As with every music biopic I see, I had hoped to see some scenes of song-craft, giving us a sense of the artistry behind the music but I guess directors consider such scenes un-cinematic.

We see more of Williams relationships and his marriage to Billie Jean Jones (Maddie Hasson). We do see him achieve his dream of playing the Grand Ole Opry, which is followed by his return to Alabama as a country music hero. He is able to accomplish both in between pissing women off and his passion for the bottle.

And though we see Williams sing Your Cheatin' Heart and Why Don't You Love Me, we get to hear precious few of his other classics. How does a film about Hank Williams not include even a snippet of Jambalaya? Or Kaw-Liga; songs that stand as tall as Hey Good Lookin', if not taller? Why must the music take a backseat to scenes such as one where a doctor diagnoses Williams' chronic back problems as spina bifida, a sequence that does little to shed light on the man except to explain his pain. Are we all dying to know about Hank Williams' lower back aches? Yes, two great country songs were preempted by spina bifida. As for the influences behind his music, Williams' love for gospel as a child is mentioned in passing.

When tragedy strikes late in the film, we don't feel a sense of heavy loss but relief that such a tepid film has mercifully come to an end. We don't even get obligatory end-titles telling us about Williams' musical legacy, just an abrupt cut to the closing credits. Maybe that's for the better.

Hiddleston and Olsen are fine in a flop. Too bad for Hiddleston; playing Williams' is a refreshing departure from his role as Loki in the Thor franchise.

The formulaic, music biopic narrative we've come to know: artist hungry for stardom--artist secures brass ring--artist womanizes and abuses substances--artist dies at young age--may as well be chiseled as a script blueprint on a bronze plate for unimaginative future filmmakers to follow. If you really want to know about Williams' life, you could do far worse than read a Wikipedia entry. But if you prefer to watch a flick about a musician who romances a few chicks, drinks lethally and sings a few famous tunes, then this is your stop. Just don't expect more.

Krisha

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Trey Edward Shults/Starring: Krisha Fairchild, Trey Edward Shults, Bill Wise and Olivia Grace Applegate

Krisha; the first feature film by writer/director Trey Edward Shults, is a dark, disturbing, character study that allows us to form an indelible impression of its subject with minimal dialogue and change of setting. Shults' film creates a movingly tragic portrait of a woman whose troubled past has made the present a terrible nightmare. The story and characterizations are crafted with economy and precision but in spite of its appropriately slim 83 minute running time, Shults' film seems quite complete.

The opening scenes are memorable for what they forebode and how they establish character and setting. The very first shot is of a white-haired woman's face as she stares directly into the camera. Her scared, anxious expression and baggy eyes leave the audience puzzled and unnerved. Shortly thereafter, we see the same woman in a tracking shot as she tromps through suburban yards in search of a particular house; her dog and luggage in tow. When she finds the correct residence, she is welcomed inside by a sizeable group of people, presumably family. The woman; Krisha (Krisha Fairchild, in a superlative performance), is greeted warmly by the those inside as the camera pans the room to show us the various family members while discordant music plays on the soundtrack. The harsh, strident, score reflects something dangerous and imbalanced in Krisha's presence; perhaps a troubled state of mind or something terrible to come. But what? Who is this woman who can set the audience on edge when we know nothing about her?

After securing lodging within the house, we see Krisha open a box with a label on its cover to discourage curiosity. Inside it we see bottles of pills and sundry items. She quickly opens one of the bottles and downs some of the contents. Does she have a drug dependency? If the pills are health-related, what precisely is she suffering from? Or are the pills psychotropic? Shults leaves us with many questions.

As Krisha interacts with the large gathering, she takes on the labor-intensive task of cooking a turkey for what is presumably Thanksgiving. As she painstakingly prepares the turkey and fixings, we also see her interact with her sister, what are most likely young nephews and brothers-in-law. All seems fairly normal until she asks one of the young men to join her for a private conversation; to "catch-up" on things. From his body language and reluctance to chat, we intuit a mother/son relationship that is anything but happy. This is confirmed in later scenes as Krisha eavesdrops on her son, Trey (Trey Edward Shults) and an uncle, who offers him fatherly advice, which denies her participation. We begin to see other disturbing signs of Krisha' frail, mental health as she surreptitiously searches through bureau drawers.

Conversations between herself and a brother-in-law seem amicable but are less so later when he makes not-so-friendly comments about her past behavior. While the family interacts and plays together, we see Krisha steal away to take her pills and later, as her son goes to lengths to avoid her and her family keeps her at a cautious arms-length, she slowly becomes unhinged. Confiscating a bottle of wine, it becomes apparent her alcoholic past has been her bane and the wrecking-ball of her relationships.

The family dinner is where Krisha suffers a total collapse; first dropping the turkey on the kitchen floor in a booze-fueled mishap then confronting the family at the table; accusing her sister of turning her son against her, which results in her dismissal from the table. The coup de grace comes when her son disowns her.

By the final frame, which reprises the first shot, we have a fairly complete picture of Krisha's life and failures and can easily ascertain the particulars of her future, which is decidedly grim.

I like the way Shults' film takes its time; doling out information slowly; forcing the audience to piece Krisha's life together from her relationships as the story unfolds.

A good challenge for a filmmaker is to make a compelling drama in one location; a house with fixed array of characters. Shults manages to keep the audience on edge; we feel almost certain Krisha will have a violent episode, but we're never sure to whom it will be directed or if it will claim a victim. She is a ticking time bomb and a frightening one at that. Repeated private calls to a boyfriend tells of another failed relationship, which contributes to her spiral.

Krisha Fairchild, who I understand is the director's real-life mother, digs deep into her character; opening Krisha's insides to show us a weak, failed mother; failed everything who has little hope of salvaging a satisfying life or overcoming her addiction. As a sixty-something trying to convince herself of her stability, we can see defeat is a more certain course. Fairchild's performance is brave and tough without a mitigating moment of sentimentality.

It would be difficult to walk away from Shults' film feeling hopeful but the truth rarely spares our feelings. That's what Krisha does; it serves us the truth about a woman's life and doesn't compromise the film's power with a last minute petition for emotional affirmations. It's tragic and not easy to watch but it doesn't lie.

Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Zack Snyder/Starring: Ben Affleck, Henry Cavill, Amy Adams, Jesse Eisenberg, Diane Lane, Laurence Fishburne, Jeremy Irons, Holly Hunter and Gal Gadot

It's difficult to expect something new from a flick like Zack Snyder's Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, now that superhero movies have become multiplex repertory. And what two superheroes have been depicted on T.V. and movie screens more than the Caped Crusader and The Man of Steel? Spiderman and the X-Men come close but still fall short of the exposure the DC comics characters have garnered over the years.
What more do audiences need to know about Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne; their super alter-egos and their respective origins? Snyder's film knows we know all about them yet his story still draws from their familiar pasts for psychological motivation, particularly Bruce Wayne's.

But what can one say about the film, with its requisite carnage, deafening sound effects and its heroes turning city skylines into mounds of steel and concrete? Does Snyder's film offer a refreshing take on the characters or a new, exciting story; something to renew audience interest in the overly familiar? My answer to the afore-posed question is a resounding no, but that doesn't mean it isn't fun to watch. The movie relies on our curiosity about what might actually happen if Batman and Superman tangled more than our fascination to keep us in our seats.
In spite of its cacophonous incoherence and it's more-of-the-sameness, the movie manages to be an enjoyable two-and-a-half hour spectacle. I guess I had better find it passably entertaining; there is surely more to come.

In the film's opening scenes, we are immediately dropped into the action, as Batman/Bruce Wayne (Ben Affleck) watches as Superman (Henry Cavill) wreaks havoc on city skyscrapers while battling an alien ship and his nemesis; fellow-Kryptonian General Zod, who he manages to defeat and kill.
Though Superman's exploits are highly regarded by the city news-rag The Daily Planet, Batman looks askance on his destructive impact on the city. It isn't long before the two superheroes find their respective crime-fighting pursuits clash, bringing them face to face in a stay-out-of-my-way confrontation that almost comes to blows.

But unbeknownst to them, a young tech CEO named Lex Luthor (played eccentrically by Jesse Eisenberg) has drawn on General Zod's attack as a pretext to plan his own defense of the planet against more of Superman's kind. When a chunk of Kryptonite is found on General Zod's downed ship, Luthor seeks U.S. Senator Finch's (Holly Hunter) consent to allow its importation. Unsure of Luthor's real motives, she refuses him, though we know he will hardly be thwarted by government regulations. Able to test the effects of Kryptonite on cell samples of Zod's body, Luthor discovers Superman's vulnerability. He wastes little time in putting his discovery into effect, as does Bruce Wayne, who manages to make a similar find. Luthor, having run afoul of Batman, devises a devious plan to make Superman and Batman fight, hoping for a scenario of mutual assured destruction.

Though Luthor succeeds in his nefarious endeavor, the two heroes finally realize they are fighting on the same side. When Luthor's plan fails, he devises an alternate plan to destroy Batman and Superman using the technology on General Zod's ship. Mingling his blood with that of the dead Kryptonian, he creates a monstrous creature whose strength proves to be too much for Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman (Gail Gadot); whose timely arrival is prompted by the unfolding crisis. Though the heroic triumvirate fights valiantly, they find the creature almost invulnerable. Superman's love; Lois Lane (Amy Adams) demonstrates some heroics of her own when she repurposes a Kryptonite-tipped spear of Batman's design for the fight against Luthor's monster.

It isn't difficult to plot the rest of the movie and as we're allowed teasing glimpses of other superheroes, we know the film is headed to franchise paradise.

The film has so much working against it, particularly our over-familiarity with the characters. Another of its many flaws are the performances by Cavill and Affleck, which are mostly wooden. Cavill, who can usually be counted on to be lifeless onscreen, makes the usually unexpressive Affleck look as though he's overacting. Amy Adams is a welcome sight, as is her performance, which is one of the few that isn't leaden. More relief from the stiff acting comes from Eisenberg, who gives Luthor a nerdy genius makeover.

What usually makes a long superhero seem longer is nonsensical, urban destruction, which becomes almost a joke. If I were a city official, I might regard Batman and Superman's heroics as more of a menace and nuisance than Luthor's nefarious deeds. How does the city tolerate so much destruction? Oh well, I guess Gotham's urban planners, architects and contractors will always have work.

Snyder and the writers try hard to introduce moral and ethical angst into the film as the question of vigilantism is posed and briefly pondered, but this seems like a tired subject for a superhero movie.

At 155 minutes, the film should be intolerable but surprisingly, it isn't. It also isn't great or even particularly good, but it is entertaining enough, which is the new modified high-praise assessment audiences have reserved for superhero movies now. What the movie needed was a smattering of Deadpool's humor to liven up Gotham. Too bad it's too serious to have moments of levity.

In spite of its shortcomings, I have a mild, grudging affection for the movie. I wouldn't dissuade anyone from paying to see it, but I wouldn't urge anyone to hurry to the multiplex either. It's dumb fun, which is preferable to just dumb. If you don't know what I mean, just watch Miracles from Heaven. Amen.

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.

Born to be Blue

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Robert Budreau/Starring: Ethan Hawke and Carmen Ejogo

Jazz great Chet Baker is the subject of director Robert Budreau's new film Born to be Blue. The story is part of a new breed of film bios that eschew the traditional cradle-to-grave arc we've come to expect in biopic narratives. The new trend in biographical storytelling on film--and a welcome one at that--is to depict the subject at a pivotal juncture or character-defining time in his/her life; emphasizing essence rather than forming a portrait from a series of experiences. But in spite of Budreau's best directorial efforts, the film somehow seems incomplete; as if mood and character (the movie has a surplus of both) have superseded emotional concerns.

Ethan Hawke plays Chet Baker, who we see just before he takes the stage at a Los Angeles nightclub, 1966. Though his reputation in the jazz world has already been established, Baker is nonetheless anxious about the gig; partly because his rival and nemesis, jazz legend Miles Davis, is on hand to gauge the talent. Though the performance proceeds smoothly, the post-gig conversation between the trumpeters is less than amicable. Davis is dismissive of Baker's playing; suggesting he "come back when he has lived a little." More than a little miffed, Baker is reminded a shortly thereafter that Davis' negative response is most likely borne of professional jealousy.

Days later, following a gig at another nightclub, Baker meets a beautiful, African-American actress named Jane (the gorgeous Carmen Ejogo) and though Baker makes a move on her, she initially resists his attentions until she eventualy succumbs to his magnetism. But Baker finds that his darker past is waiting for him outside a bowling alley; a group of black toughs beat him mercilessly as retribution for delinquent payments on heroin; an addiction Jane quickly becomes aware of.

As he recuperates in the hospital, he finds that his upper, front teeth have been knocked out; a critical, physical deficiency that threatens his ability to play trumpet. Facing a possible career-ending injury, Baker decides to leave California with Jane to visit his parents in Oklahoma; a move that leaves him at the mercy of his parole officer, who is unaware of his departure.

Baker finds a cool reception waiting for him upon arrival, particularly from his father, who looks mildly askance at Jane's color. He also wastes little time expressing mild contempt for his son's musical career, which he sees as an avocation, rather than a means to gainful employment. As his parents begin to accept their presence, Baker begins to practice his trumpet extracurricularly. But as he (and we) might expect, his dentures prove to be an impediment to his playing. Ever determined, he continues to practice, hoping to return to Los Angeles with his ability restored.

After Baker and Jane return to L.A., she finds acting roles are scarce and her color an obstacle in the white-controlled movie industry. Meanwhile, Baker's confidence in his playing leads to extensive gigging in the studio, which also serves as a ploy to demonstrate to his parole officer that his music has earning potential and to music industry movers and shakers that he is ready to record and gig. Like Baker's father, the parole office isn't entirely convinced the trumpeter is capable of earning a living with his music. As Baker convinces onlookers of his abilities, his ambitions to record and play a gig at the formidable Birdland become his immediate goals. Providing Baker a confidence boost is Dizzie Gillespie, who visits the studio to find the trumpeter has found his original form.

But in pursuing his come-back, we see that Baker's personal and professional neediness have marginalized Jane and her own career goals. She also remains unconvinced that he has kicked his heroin habit. Put off by his narcissism and his noncommittal attitude toward their relationship, she leaves him, in spite of his needy protestations and his demands that she be present for his Birdland gig. The performance at Birdland serves as a kind of Waterloo in Baker's career; a make or break deal. The looming gig also serves as dramatic tension and a tense build-up to the film's climactic scene. Though Jane is fully aware of the significance of the Birdland performance, she leaves him anyway.

Having so much at stake and so much to prove, Baker proceeds to his Birdland gig, where he finds Miles Davis and significant members of the jazz community are present to hear his performance. The gig provides definitive answers about Baker's music but it also settles questions about his commitment to Jane, who happens to attend the show.

As the movie is mostly fictional; facts are interspersed among a slew of fabrications and character composites. In Budreau's film, essence precedes reality. He gives us an imagined Chet Baker, rather than something entirely literal. I like this method but does the film capture Baker's essence or is the story merely feeble approximations of his character and life? Though we hear Baker's music in the film, how much do we actually learn about it? I would have liked to have learned more about his formative, musical education; the origins of his love for his instrument and jazz.

I'm glad the film doesn't romanticize his heroin addiction. We learn he never overcame his drug-dependency and in fact counted on the drug to allow him to "get inside the notes."

The film never attains any dramatic power; we sympathize with Baker but Budreau never really shows us why the jazz great should matter to us. He only shows us a character movie-goers have come to know so well: the talented, junky-musician who fails at relationships and struggles with a self-destructive streak. The forthcoming Miles Davis biopic might be more of the same though I hope not. Baker was great, but why does he still matter, if he still matters at all? Such is the question I put to Budreau and his screenwriters, which they mostly fail to answer.

But in spite of the film's flaws, I found the performances to be a major selling point. Ethan Hawke is quite terrific as Baker; capturing the man's egoism and his duplicity but also his self-determination; his refusal to allow his physical shortcomings to end his career. I felt Carmen Ejogo nearly stole the film. Ejogo allows us to see Jane's inner strength and her heroic self-emancipation from Baker's self-destructive ways. Ejogo's acting is given firm support by her powerful presence.

After seeing Bruce Weber's excellent 1988 documentary, Let's Get Lost, I always felt a narrative film on Baker's life might be superfluous, which is how I feel about Budreau's biopic. Do I need to know about his life and career? Does this new film illuminate or clarify or dispel myths about the man? What will a lay audience come away with?

I think Born to Be Blue is a fine performance film, but hardly more than that. It may inspire movie-goers to seek out Baker's music or learn more facts about his life but I doubt the film will leave anyone in awe, which is too bad, because he deserves attention and more than just a so-so biopic.