The Laundromat- Movie Review

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Antonio Banderas, Comedy, David Schwimmer, Drama, Gary Oldman, Jeffrey Wright, Meryl Streep, Robert Patrick, Sharon Stone, Steven Soderbergh

I wouldn’t say Steven Soderbergh is one of my favorite filmmakers of today, but I can’t name a lot of filmmakers who are quite as versatile and willing to experiment as Soderbergh is. I think Soderbergh’s gift has always been his ability to ground his films in some sort of reality, and in turn connect seemingly unconnected events into a cohesive narrative or statement. Soderbergh’s talent has always been process; films like Out of Sight or the Ocean’s trilogy don’t succeed just because of their stories, but because they’re telling said stories in the most interesting way possible.

It’s due to my utter respect for the way Soderbergh revolutionized the industry that I find it so baffling that he just directed one of the absolute worst films of the year. The Laundromat isn’t just lazy and uninspired in its creation, but seemingly an antithesis to what Soderbergh is good at. Instead of seeing things play out with any sort of nuance, the film’s events are told to the audience plain faced and directly, and the loose storylines are strung together in a way that feels less like the tapestry of a great painter and more like a frantic connect-the-dots from an amateur.

The film is centered on the real Panama Papers schedule, where an off-shore law firm was found to be responsible for countless scandals and controversies involving real life elite figures. This scandal is seen through the eyes of a widowed woman (Meryl Streep) who investigates the two lawyers at the center (Antonio Banderas and Gary Oldman)- at least that’s what it starts off as. Ultimately, Soderbergh seems to enjoy having Banderas and Oldman speak directly to the audience and explain to them how precisely they came to be responsible for all the world’s problems more than focusing on how they may have impacted the world.

Oldman and Banderas at least seem to be having fun chewing the scenery, and this over-the-top fourth wall breaking would be very enjoyable if it wasn’t the only trick the film had up its sleeve. The fourth wall breaking isn’t in service of the narrative, but intended to be the narrative itself; Streep and her wide ranging cast of co-stars (which includes everyone from Robert Patrick and David Schwimmer to Sharon Stone and Jeffrey Wright) are just small examples made to populate the stories that Oldman and Banderas tell, and no character ends up inspiring any sort of empathy.

Again, it would be another thing if Banderas and Oldman were saddled by dialogue that was particularly cunning or caustic, but they aren’t; it’s a mostly dull state of affairs as they aimlessly admit to every horrible deed with no sense of regret, and none of these ideas are ever visualized. The closest thing the film gets to telling its message in an interesting way is an opening gag in which the pair explains the process of financial exchanges by relating it to cavemen, but it’s the type of broad gag that would work better as a rough thesis, and not the most daring thing in the entire film.

The various storylines, which include Streep’s apparently instant ability to become a private investigator, aren’t shot particularly interesting, and are generally confined to small, flat environments shot with no regard for visual flare. Each actor seems to be confused on whether this is suppose to be straight laced satire of a sincere warning, and many of the storylines are so utterly forgettable that they’re challenging to even criticize. The issue is that some stories, such as Jeffrey Wright’s role as a dubious lawyer who leads a double life, just seem to be on the cusp of something interesting when the film whisks itself away to cover something else.

At 95 minutes, the film is way too short to offer a comprehensive view of these corruption issue, and only has time to touch on each situation with minimal depth. Screenwriter Scott Z. Burns, a brilliant artist who also wrote and directed this year’s The Report, seems like he knows what he’s talking about when it comes to off-shore accounting, but the dialogue he saddles the actors with seem to be a better fit for a documentary than a film that actually cares about people. Streep has the most convincing story arc of any character in the film, but any room for a strong emotional connection with her goes out the door when she inexplicably disappears from the second half of the film.

I was genuinely shocked at how the film concluded, and while I won’t spoil it for the curious, it’s the type of stinger that’s so transparently pandering and uncreative in its attempts to be sincere that it comes off as abrasive, and even insulting to the audience’s intelligence. It’s a fourth wall break of sorts that could have come off as clever and rewarding had the film actually had any narrative coherence, but here it comes off as yet another lecture.

I’m not sure how many talented people got in a room and made something like The Laundromat; Soderbergh has made bad movies before, but the majority are intersting and speak to his willingness to try something new- think of how The Good German wasn’t quite the Casablanca tribute it thought it was, or how Ocean’s Twelve didn’t find the same irreverence that Ocean’s Eleven did. Those were films that collapsed under their own ambitions, but I can’t see The Laundromat being a film that anyone could say they were passionate about. It’s not a spectacular art-house miss, nor is it “so bad that it’s good;” The Laundromat is just a colossal failure from a guy who usually gets things right. Grade: D+

Pain and Glory- Movie Review

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Antonio Banderas, Drama, Pain and Glory, Pedro Almodovar, Penelope Cruz

This film was screened as part of the Modern Cinema film festival in Fort Worth, TX.

Pain and Glory is the work of reflection by an artist, about an artist in refelction; perhaps the parallels to writer/director Pedro Almodovar’s own career are easy to point out, but the film uses an archetype that Almodovar is clearly comfortable with to tell its story. It’s not a self-indulgent portrait, however, as the film asks deeper questions about how to deal with memory and the events that shape the creative spirit. I appriciate that it isn’t cut and dry; ideas don’t always spring from one clear inciting incident, and the web of influences is often messy. Almodovar details the level of seperation that an artist can feel from what they created.

Salvador Mallo (Antonio Banderas) is a legendary filmmaker who has since retired and is preparing an anniversary screening of one of his early films. Mallo has removed himself from the writing process, but the upcoming screening forces him to meet up with the lead actor from his film, Alberto Crespo (Asier Exteandia), who he hasn’t spoken to in thirty years. Mallo struggles with an ilnness, and in flashbacks explores how he came from humble beginnings and lived under his domineering mother.

The idea of an artist reflecting on their past work risks being narcasstic, but there’s a comedy that comes from the relationship between Salvador and Alberto. The petty disagreements they had feel inconsequential now, but there’s part of Salvador that can never forgive Alberto for not giving the performance he imagined. Salvador has now made enough films that these qualms don’t come up regularly, but his initally earnest attempts to heal old wounds end up remeerging. The film is smart in that it doesn’t show clips from Salvador’s films; we get everything we need to know from these conversations.

The flashbacks are also integral in that they hint at the ideas that ripple into Salvador’s work, but aren’t as simple as him literally lifting events from his childhood into stories. It’s more subtle than that; in many ways Salvador’s gifts denied him a regular childhood, as he was put in a situation where he often taught to adults and rose among his peers. It’s not overtly sentimental, but an encounter with a childhood friend shows that Salvador’s primary senses of love and loss have permeated from the films he’s made, not the other way around.

Antonio Banderas is truly excellent; Salvador often feels a prisoner to his memories, and thus is often stuck in intimate, uncomfortable situations, such as a claustrophobic doctor’s office or his lavish apartment. There’s a sense of seperation from the material world that requires a riveting performance at its center, and Banderas plays Salvador as unpretentious and candid about his feelings. His memories often feel more lived in and expansive than his reality, and through a genius piece of framing later on are revealed to be a piece of selective interpretation.

For a film about aging, Pain and Glory is surprisngly upbeat, as Salvador is removed enough from his past that he can comment on it with some wisdom. There’s a meta commentary at points about how films are to keen to link events that could never exist in reality, but for the most part it’s a completely sincere reflective piece from Almodovar. Playing like a hangout movie at times, Pain and Glory is about the search for wisdom and the effort it takes to move forward and create again. Grade: A-

The 33- Movie Review

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Antonio Banderas, Drama, Gabriel Bryne, Patricia Riggen, The 33

The 33 is cinematic realism at its best, an inspiring and powerfully told true story that works well within the constraints of a recent story, and handles the complexities of an ensemble cast. It’s hard to take a story like this and make it more than just another news story turned feature, but there’s a lot of great dramatic tension throughout, and the empathetic quality found in the cast makes it standout from other stories.

Set in 2010, The 33 follows a crew of 33 miners that embark on a mission to extract copper from one of the most infamous mines in Chile. The group consists of a diverse team of miners at different stages of their careers, but team leader Mario Sepúlveda (Antonio Banderas) makes valiant attempts to unite the team. When the heart of the mountain collapses, the team is stranded underground, leaving their countries forces to rescue them as they attempt to survive without descending into chaos.

Director Patricia Riggen creates a spectacular looking film, with several particularly intense disaster sequences, as well as emotional breakdowns. The scope of the film is fantastic, and there’s a real emotional connection felt with these characters despite their flaws, adding more realism. Though the scenes shifting away from the miners, those focusing on their families and the governmental strategies, are less interesting and relevant to those within the mine, the film does a good job at bridging the gap and looking through the story through different angles.

It’s also a testament to the performances that the film works so well, as the main crux of the story falls upon the connection made with those trapped. Though Antonio Banderas’s charismatic and subtle lead role is perhaps the central protagonist, it’s definitely an ensemble piece. The group has great chemistry, and the companionship that’s seen between the characters is in many ways what drives the film through a thin story. At nearly two hours it’s slightly overlong, but the power of the cast does a great job at carrying the film.

The 33 is an authentic feeling, well crafted, and emotionally satisfying depiction of a real life event, and walks the line of being both respectful while telling a naturally cinematic story. It’s an enjoyable experience, as the classic story of success goes beyond the achievements of any individual, and the film never falters in recognizing those involved, and bringing their story to life with intensity and passion. Grade: B