Thoughts on Steve McQueen's 12 YEARS A SLAVE

As one might expect from a film that tells the story of a free black man, Solomon Northup, living in Saratoga Springs, New York in the 1840s who is brought to Washington D.C. under false pretenses, drugged and sold into slavery, Steve McQueen’s (Hunger, Shame) latest film, 12 Years a Slave, is deeply troubling on a number of levels. It is a film that unnerved me and deeply affected me emotionally as I watched it. It’s also a film that, upon further reflection, has some serious problems that need to be wrestled with. The more I think about it, the less sure I am of what this film is. As such, I fear this “review” might be less of a review and more of me just trying to work this thing out.

Above all, like McQueen’s two previous films, 12 Years a Slave is incredibly hard to watch. But, no matter what the film is “about,” that’s the point. Steve McQueen traffics in discomfort. As a visual artist and now as a director, he has shown himself to be completely infatuated with the degradation of the human body and soul. Just like the squalid conditions of the North Ireland prisons in Hunger and the graphic sexual depravity in Shame, the sheer, utterly despicable brutality of slavery in the antebellum south is the perfect lens through which to view this common theme. And through that lens, the gaze of McQueen’s (and his DP, Sean Bobbitt’s) camera is unflinching.

Sequences of intense suffering and humiliation are played in long continuous shots, refusing the audience any sort of reprieve that a cut here or there would afford. In one particular scene, Solomon, now with the identity of “Platt” forced upon him, is hanged by the neck from a tree with only his tip-toes preventing an excruciating death. As he sways back and forth, gurgling and choking, the other slaves go about their chores, drying clothes or tending the grass as if nothing were amiss. (This occurs over the course of minutes in the film’s runtime, hours in the world of the film.) It is only when another slave offers Solomon a relieving drink of water that McQueen offers the audience a likewise respite. In another scene near the end of the film (also easily the most viscerally brutal), a young, female slave is horrifically whipped. The sequence again plays in one long, constantly-moving shot that is sickeningly fluid, circling around and around capturing the unrelenting anguish and emotional suffering of the young slave, her master and Solomon who is forced to participate in the gruesome event. This is where I begin to question things.

Because, as effective as these scenes may be (and man, are they effective), I’m left wondering why McQueen chose to 1.) Make this film and 2.) Shoot it in the way he did. At heart, Steve McQueen is a visual artist and his films, 12 Years a Slave included, reflect this. As such, the cold, detached nature with which he films his subjects is ambiguous. Yes, it could most certainly be a commentary on the detached nature with which our society today views slavery – treating it as something completely removed from today’s “post-racial” culture. A big part of me buys into that. But I still can’t help but thinking about how this decision could easily be a reflection of McQueen’s own detachment from his subject matter. There was a nagging feeling I felt all throughout 12 Years a Slave that I just couldn’t place. I think now that perhaps what I was feeling was the discomfort brought on by the fact that McQueen is using slavery simply as a backdrop for his continued obsession with the destruction of a person’s humanity.

But this is not necessarily a knock on the film. I have obviously never met Mr. McQueen. (I might go as far as saying he’s probably never been to Kentucky.) And although he isn’t American and hasn’t, I would assume, had to live and struggle with this country’s tumultuous relationship with slavery and race relations (at least in the context of the American south), I do know that his parents hail for the Caribbean which was deeply involved in the slave trade. So, who am I to say what Mr. McQueen’s motivations were for making this film? Nobody, that’s right.  However, I am simply speaking to what I see in the context of the film.

What I see in the film, is a nonlinear narrative told in beautifully rendered tableaus that depict inhuman cruelty after inhuman cruelty, one more hideously disturbing than the last. The problem is, that’s basically all there is. For nearly the entire two hour runtime, McQueen rushes from one torturous scene to the next, focusing almost exclusively on how that torture lays the recipient low. Whether it be Solomon being violently beaten down when he first finds himself imprisoned or Solomon being viciously whipped for only picking 180 pounds of cotton instead of the requisite 200, or whether it be Patsey being nearly murdered for borrowing some soap from a neighboring plantation to wash herself or brutally raped for no other reason than, “She’s his property and that’s just what master Epps was feeling this particular night.” Yes, slavery is present during all of this. But, more often than not, it seems stuck in the background, playing second fiddle to McQueen’s true interest. And most of the instances where slavery is discussed directly, it comes off as ham-fisted.

While McQueen’s depicts the perpetrated violence in meticulous and stunning compositions, anything nuanced he might have said about slavery is replaced with trite dialogue. Instead of showing the audience, he simply tells us about it. For the one scene during which Benedict Cumberbatch and other random slavers are looking for potential new meat and we see how these black men and women are stripped naked and forced to stand at attention as people they don’t know gawk at their bare bodies, check their teeth and ask about their strength and endurance, we have tons of scenes like the ones with Alfre Woodard’s black slave owner explaining how she worked herself a way in the world and married her former master, and Brad Pitt’s Canadian miracle abolitionist swooping in when all hope seems lost to preach the ills of slavery and rescue Solomon from the maw of the abyss. I am absolutely fascinated by the scene of Paul Giamatti showing off his “merchandise” to prospective buyers. The way the camera weaves throughout the house, capturing the immense mental and physical distress on the faces of the new slaves without one of them (save one or two) speaking up for themselves, is magnificent. But again, this scene is treated with such care because its subject is the destruction of the bodies and souls of the slaves in the house, not because of its relationship to the institution of slavery.

But again, and I can’t stress this enough, this fact doesn’t make 12 Years a Slave a bad film. In fact, I think it’s quite a good film. The acting, for one, is almost universally amazing. There are some weird choices in the film, like a bearded Garret Dillahunt (Raising Hope, Looper) showing up for 2 minutes and then disappearing forever or the aforementioned Brad Pitt who looks and sounds so weird and whose dialogue might not seem so hackneyed if McQueen and screenwriter John Ridley had not instilled so much cynicism into the audience up until that point. But for those two choices, we have the likes of Benedict Cumberbatch and Michael Fassbender who has a spectacular turn as Edwin Epps. We often see Epps just sitting in a chair in a drunken stupor, staring off into the middle distance. In the already mentioned scene where he forces Solomon to whip Patsey, it is not because he gets some sick pleasure from watching one slave beat another. (At least, not in this particular instance.) It’s because he can’t do it himself. As he stares at Patsey’s naked back, you can see the fear in Fassbender’s eyes as they begin to well up with tears. How Fassbender somehow manages to imbue some, dare I say, humanity into an otherwise completely reprehensible and horrifyingly disgusting creature is remarkable.

Lupita Nyong’o is also a standout. In what is amazingly her debut role, as the young slave, Patsey, Nyong’o gives a confident and assured performance, expertly commanding the screen with the gravitas of a much more seasoned performer. As the object of her master Epp’s deplorable lust and subsequently his unfettered rage, much is asked of Nyong’o and she delivers spectacularly. In her small, meek frame, she is able to convey the overwhelming weariness of body and spirit that is the product of hundreds of years of subjugation. And when she explains to Solomon that for her the only way to escape the inescapable is through ending her own life, it is a revelation that is as devastating as it is believable.

And, of course, there is Chiwetel Ejiofor as Solomon Northup. As Northup, Chiwetel is in nearly every scene in the film and, likewise, is asked to shoulder much of the film’s weight. And he succeeds tremendously. As a quiet and reserved leading man, Ejiofor conveys most of the toll taken on Northup by the appalling acts committed against him solely in subtle expressions in his face and in his wide eyes that are both accusing and full of sorrow. In one particular scene, Northup and his fellow slaves are conducting a funeral for one of their brethren who died of heat exhaustion in the cotton fields. Looking on the gravesite, the men and women begin to sing a spiritual and the camera slowly pulls in onto Solomon’s face. As we watch, his face slowly contorts as if he has finally given in and completely accepted the identity of a slave. It’s an outstanding scene, and the way Ejiofor is able to totally morph his face into a visage of complete agony is amazing. Likewise, in another scene near the end of the film, we see yet another close-up of Ejiofor’s face. It is another long continuous shot, and during it Solomon simply stares off into the camera. But he’s not looking at the audience or anything really. He’s looking at the unthinkable cruelties that have befallen him and thousands of people like him. He’s staring directly into the void of hopelessness that is what has become of his life – a never-ending torment with the hope of relief or rescue all but destroyed. And though Ejoifor barely moves, all of this is fully and heartbreakingly depicted in his weary eyes; eyes that have had all their life and fire harshly snuffed out.

I’m not going to say that 12 Years a Slave is exploitative, because I believe that connotation is far too negative (on top of simply being untrue). But I don’t necessarily believe that it warrants the “definitive film about slavery” moniker that everyone is placing upon it. 12 Years a Slave is not a document of history. It’s a dramatic retelling in which Steve McQueen has taken and embellished what bits he has deemed most suitable for his goal – that goal being to artfully depict the complete desolation of this man’s, Solomon Northup, body and soul. And he accomplishes this magnificently. Apart from just the explicit brutality committed against Northup, the psychological destruction of the film’s subject is particularly absorbing. The way Solomon Northup begins, declaring “I do not want to survive. I want to live,” and how he is subsequently forced to hide his intelligence and talents until he is physically and mentally broken down into the rudimentary form of only doing whatever it takes to survive is incredible. I just can’t help but wish this connected to the institution of slavery is a more interesting, nuanced way instead of just feeling like Steve McQueen saying “slavery is bad and now let me use it as a tool to tell the story I really want to tell.”

And so, while 12 Years a Slave might not be the revolutionary film about slavery that everyone is calling it, it is a film that conveys the destruction of the human body and soul in a way that is deeply unnerving and viscerally and emotionally effecting. And while 12 Years a Slave might not be as culturally important a film as some are declaring, it is still an incredibly beautiful, impeccably composed and shot, remarkably well-acted film that deserves much praise and accolades. Just maybe not the ones it’s getting.

8 0ut of 10 (7 out of 10 as a film about slavery, 9 out of 10 as a film about the degradation of human body and soul)

"Flawed Fun": Review of THOR: THE DARK WORLD

Sometimes an actor in a film is so good that he or she makes up for the film's shortcomings. An actor that comes to mind immediately is Sean Connery. Throughout his storied career, Sean Connery was in a lot of fantastic movies. He was also in a lot of dumpster fires. For every Dr. No or Murder on the Orient Express, there was a League of Extraordinary Gentlemen or a Highlander II: The Quickening (which was a thing, quit trying to deny it). No matter how terrible the film was, however, Connery always managed to bring something to the table that made the film better, or at least more tolerable. Thor: The Dark World suffers from this same phenomena. Now, don't get me wrong, Thor 2 is nowhere near as bad as either of those two films. However, what it does end up being is a fairly flawed film whose actors and occasional flashes of great wit all but make up for what problems it does have. 

Taking place after the events on the first film and 2012's The Avengers, Thor: The Dark World's story is a bit of a mess. We find out through the beginning prologue that long, long ago, before anything we know today existed, there was only darkness. And in this darkness, appropriately enough, ruled a race known as the Dark Elves who, after being displaced, sought to destroy this new universe, reverting it back into darkness using a substance known as "the Aether." Bor, Odin's (Anthony Hopkins) father, managed to defeat the Dark Elf leader, Malekith (Christopher Eccleston), who then sacrifices his remaining troops in order to escape. But now, ages later, the Convergence, a rare alignment of all 9 realms of the universe, is imminent. After Dr. Jane Foster (Natalie Portman) unlocks the Aether which has been deeply hidden away for millennia,  Malekith is awakened and returns to harness its power with the hopes of using the Convergence to plunge the universe back into darkness. Thor (Chris Hemsworth), in turn, must fight to defeat Malekith and save his lady fair. (AND THE UNIVERSE AS WE KNOW IT!)

The main issue with this premise is that we as the audience have no connection to the Dark Elves whatsoever and the film makes no attempt to form one. Yes, they have this really interesting Guillermo del Toro/Hellboy 2 look going on. And yes, the technology they use is awesome. (They have these black hole grenades that are equally terrifying in concept and execution.) But we know nothing about them other than they're Dark Elves and they once ruled the universe. They could just as easily be swapped for the alien horde at the end of The Avengers or the armies of orcs, goblins and Uruk-hai in The Lord of the Rings trilogy. They are literally and figuratively a legion of faceless monsters. As such, all emotional impact is sapped from the large action set pieces that populate the film. There's no moral dilemma here. These are creatures that are evil personified and must be vanquished by our sterling hero. 

The decision to present the Dark Elves in this manner might be understandable if their leader, Malekith, were interesting. As he is though, he is simply an extension of his army - a deplorable being who seeks to plunge the world into darkness simply because that's what Dark Elves do. There's no mention of any subjugation of the Dark Elves. We don't get any hint about how or why the universe was taken from them or whether or not the loss of his people had any effect on Malekith. There's not even a sense that Malekith holds any particular amount of ill will towards the humans or the Asgardians other than the blanket feeling of "I hate everything that's not a Dark Elf." Christopher Eccleston is a great actor. As Malekith, he looks and sounds incredibly intimidating. But the only thing he's given to do is to seek the Aether and look menacing. And though he does it well, it just doesn't amount to much. 

It also highlights something most of us have known for a long time - Tom Hiddleston's Loki is one of the most fascinating characters in the cinematic Marvel Universe. Imprisoned at the beginning of the film for his despicable acts in The Avengers, Loki's interactions with his Asgardian foster family run the gamut from dripping with sardonic disdain to being surprisingly heartbreaking. Although the script renders much of Loki's motivation incomprehensible (Is he a betrayer? An honorable son and brother? A long-con genius?), Tom Hiddleston is so good that he makes it all seem like part of an insane Joker-esque plan (to borrow from Marvel's competitor) to seize control of Odin's throne while causing as much chaos as possible along the way. 

The story arc between Loki and Chris Hemsworth's Thor is also easily the most compelling thing in the film. At this point in their runs, both men completely embody their respective characters and their charisma and chemistry with one another if off the charts. It's a shame then that more isn't done with their relationship. Something happens about halfway through the film that forces the brothers to work side-by-side, despite their obvious deep-seeded issues with one another, to achieve a mutual goal. "I wish I could trust you," Thor says to his brother. "Trust my rage," Loki responds solemnly. It's an intriguing dynamic that could have afforded to be unwound a bit. But, to its credit, the film deftly avoids going too far into any sort of a reconciliation and brings the narrative thread to a close in a way that's satisfying. 

The most interesting juxtaposition in Thor: The Dark World is that no other character besides Thor (except, arguably, Loki) is given anything substantive to do and yet the acting and character interactions are easily the strongest part of the film. It's a credit not only to the superb abilities of the film's talent, but also to how the film, like its predecessors, fits organically into the firmly established aesthetic and tone of the cinematic Marvel Universe. 

Perhaps best realized in The Avengers, Marvel has found the ideal balance of spectacular, big-budget action set pieces and intimate, hilariously quippy character-driven scenes. It's something that no one does better than Joss Whedon, but Alan Taylor (though primarily a TV director and in spite of the fact that he often appears unready for a task this large) holds his own in this respect, Thor 2 feeling like a perfect extension of this world. From Thor and Loki, to Natalie Portman's fish-out-of-water Jane Foster being thrown across unknown mythical landscapes, to Kat Dennings, Stellan Skarsgard and Thor's warrior friends (including Ray Stevenson, Zachary Levi, Tadanobu Asano and Jaimie Alexander) all of whom are criminally underused, even Kat Dennings's new intern and Jane's "potential" love interest (Jonathan Howard and Chris O'Dowd, respectively), who serve no real purpose in the movie at all, have some very funny and immensely entertaining character moments. 

Thor: The Dark World is an odd film. It does little to improve upon what has come before it, yet it feels perfectly at home in this world. It's story doesn't hold much weight at all; the "rules" of the film are so loose that they're almost non-existent. Wormholes appear anywhere and at anytime on Earth simply because the story calls for them to be there. People can be holograms in the movie, to the point where you're not sure who is a hologram and who is real at any given time. (Which makes for some interesting surprises, but it's also hard to not see them as cheats.) Yet, the interplay between fantasy and science fiction in the film is actually well done, especially with the aforementioned Dark Elf spacecrafts and weaponry. It's a flawed film, to be sure. But it's one in which the acting and frequently witty dialogue does a lot to make up for those problems. Couple that with some expertly placed fan service (hinted at above), and although it isn't a must-see, it's really hard not to find something to like about it. 

Thor: The Dark World might not be Highlander II: The Quickening, but it's still a lot of fun. (And there could only be one anyway, right?) 

7 out of 10

Criterion Spotlight: Elia Kazan's ON THE WATERFRONT

"Conscience... that stuff can drive you nuts!" 

The line, spoken by Marlon Brando as Terry Malloy, a longshoreman who testifies against his corrupt union, is not the most iconic line in Elia Kazan's 1954 classic On the Waterfront. (We'll get to that later.) However, it is a line that resonates throughout the picture and the picture's conception and production. The story, written by Budd Schulberg and based on a series of Pulitzer Prize winning articles called "Crime on the Waterfront" by Malcolm Johnson about the corruption, extortion and racketeering on the waterfronts of Manhattan and Brooklyn, is all about conscience. So too is the story behind the story as On the Waterfront marks the first film directed by Kazan after he agreed to testify before the House of Un-American Activities Committee and named former associates who were involved (either currently or formerly) with the Communist Party. By testifying, Kazan became a social outcast in left-wing circles. 

As such, among other things, On the Waterfront acts as Elia Kazan's justification for his decision to testify. In one scene in the film, the waterfront's union boss, Johnny Friendly (Lee Cobb, Jr., 12 Angry Men), screams at Malloy, "You ratted on us, Terry!" and Brando as Malloy shouts back, "I'm standing over here now. I was ratting on myself all those years. I didn't even know it." It's a fantastic character moment, but it also gives voice to Kazan's own belief that Communism was an evil that had temporarily seduced him and that had to be opposed. It's also a line that mirrors one that Kazan writes in his autobiography when he says about On the Waterfront winning 8 of the 12 Academy Awards for which it was nominated (including Best Director), "I was tasting vengeance that night and enjoying it." 

In the longer version of that statement (which includes an expletive or two), you can almost feel the fire that was imbued by the HUAC hearings into those that testified, as well as the hostility with which these people were met by those who refused to testify. Even today, many critics and viewers alike still feel that Kazan's hidden agenda taints On the Waterfront. Others critics also believe that with the passage of time, the story no longer feels as fresh, the romantic interest and fight against corruption falling into tritest of conventions. However, no matter what you feel towards Elia Kazan and despite the dated aspects of the film, the central character arc of Terry Malloy, combined with one of the most power and influential performances in the history of cinema given by Marlon Brando, makes On the Waterfront a classic that reshaped the tone of modern movie acting forever. 

Today, many people only know the Actors Studio as the place Bravo goes inside of to watch James Lipton talk to Hollywood's elite about their lives and careers. However, since its co-founding in 1947 by Elia Kazan, Cheryl Crawford, Robert Lewis and Anna Sokolow, the Actors Studio has served as the premier organization in the refining and teaching of the Constantin Stanislavski originated "method acting." For those unaware, method acting can be boiled down to a group of techniques that actors use to create within themselves the thoughts and feelings of their characters, so as to develop the most lifelike performances possible. In addition to being a co-founder, Elia Kazan also used the Actors Studio as a sort of casting agency for his films. The most noteworthy of his finds, you may have already guessed, was none other than a young Marlon Brando. 

From this relationship grew such classics as A Streetcar Named Desire (1951), Viva Zapata! (1952) and On the Waterfront. In these early films, Brando, under Kazan's direction, would eschew decades of traditional screen idiosyncrasies in favor of a fresh and unorthodox style which saw the actor as alert, ever-observant, giving way to something not wholly realistic  but rather a heightened form of realism. 

In a particular scene in On the Waterfront, Terry and Edie (Eva Marie Saint), the sister of one of Malloy's friends whom he unwittingly sets up to be knocked off by some of Johnny Friendly's henchmen, are walking and talking through a small park outside a church. While fiddling with her gloves, Eva Marie Saint accidentally drops one of the gloves. Brando as Terry then picks the glove up, but instead of handing it back to her he keeps it. When she tries to take the glove from him, he pulls back picking stray bits of fuzz off of it. As they continue to talk, Terry sits on a nearby swing and slowly puts the glove on. It's a small gesture, one you might even miss if you're not paying attention. It's also a gesture that every other actor at the time would have never thought to do in that situation. But in that one small gesture, Brando is conveying so much about his character and how Terry feels about Edie. 

In another scene, the most famous in On the Waterfront and one of the most iconic scenes in film history, we see Terry in the backseat of a taxi cab with his brother Charley (Rod Steiger, another method actor). The "I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender" scene has been parodied and spoofed so many times that the original could have easily lost all meaning. (I mean, they did a Mary Had A Little Lamb spoof for Christ's sake.) However, watching the claustrophobic and incredibly intimate scene today, it is as powerful and moving as it must have been back in 1954. We intensely feel the pain of these two men, Terry betrayed by Charley, Charley forced by desperation to pull a gun on his kid brother. 

Equally magnificent are Steiger and Brando. So much so that the scene almost plays like a love scene. One of the most remarkable things about Marlon Brando's acting was the duality he brought to each of his characters. Particularly visible in Terry Malloy is the contrast of a tough-as-nails exterior and the delicacy and gentleness of his behavior. Likewise, when Charley pulls the gun on Terry, Brando doesn't do what every other actor at the time would have done and grab the gun from Charley, screaming and yelling all the while (maybe socking him in the mouth for good measure). No, instead, and not unlike his unusual but perfect choice to put on Eva Marie Saint's glove, he gently pushes the gun away like one might lightly stroke the cheek of a loved one. And with just two words, "Oh, Charley," that are so loving and so saturated with mournful melancholy, Brando is able to convey all of the disappointment and pain of the brothers' entire relationship as Steiger slouches, pushing his hat back on his forehead. Terry doesn't know it yet, but by refusing to do as his brother asks, he has signed Charley's death warrant. It's an electrifying and heartbreakingly emotional scene that both men play to perfection. 

In the real-life story that Budd Schulberg based his screenplay on, the longshoreman who tried to topple a corrupt union fails. In the novel version of the screenplay, Terry Malloy is brutually beaten to death for testifying against Johnny Friendly and his cohorts. As such, many consider the film to be too triumphant and pan its ending for feeling sanguine and stagy. And I probably agree with this to an extent. Yet, while many of the actual longshoremen that were hired to play background roles are often too deliberately blocked and while many scenes, like when Karl Malden's Father Berry gives an impassioned speech about how "If you don't think Christ is down here on the waterfront, you've got another guess coming," which would be monumental moments in other films but feel too theatrical against what Brando is doing, On the Waterfront still manages to work beautifully. 

Despite all the dated aspects on the film, the central narrative of Terry Malloy's struggle with his conscience and his relationships with his brother Charley and with Edie Doyle are timeless. What Brando, Kazan and company were able to do changed movie acting forever. And while the story may no longer feel as crisp or hit as hard as it once did, the acting and best dialogue still demonstrate beautifully the power of great actors, great directors and great cinema. On the Waterfront coulda had class and does. It coulda been a contender and still is. And it's far from being a bum movie. (Because what's one more spoof between friends, right?)

An Unassuming Masterpiece: Review of SHORT TERM 12

Based on his 2009 award-winning short film of the same name, Destin Daniel Cretton's Short Term 12 could have easily been full of the syrupy sentimentality of an after-school special. With its troubled but gifted teens and its equally affected, twentysomething group home workers, it had all the makings of a "My Hormones and Me" or a "Learning Not to Hurt" (Courtesy of ABC). However, Cretton and his cast skillfully bring an understated honesty to the film, allowing his characters' humanity and decency (and even life lessons) to arise in a beautifully organic way. 

The film shares relatively equal time between the group home's residents and its employees. Most important of the latter being supervisor Grace (Brie Larson, 21 Jump Street, Scott Pilgrim) and Mason (John Gallagher Jr., The Newsroom), co-workers at Short Term 12 who are secretly seeing each other. The relationship is getting serious too, but Grace, who knows a little something about spending time in places like Short Term 12, continues to struggle with opening up to Mason. As the film begins, Mason, Grace and Jessica (Stephanie Beatriz, Brooklyn Nine-Nine) are welcoming new staff member Nate (Rami Malek). Mason is telling a hilarious and disgusting story about trying to follow a kid, Sammy, who had left the home while desperately needing to use the restroom. While he's doing so, a young boy runs screaming from one of the buildings and the supervisors have to catch and comfort him. There is also a new girl named Jayden (Kaitlyn Dever), a talented artist whose gruff exterior masks a live of abuse and a father who only wants her when he wants her; and an older boy named Marcus (Keith Stanfield) who is a burgeoning rapper with immense talent but who is also about to age out of the home. 

Beyond this, the story is rather simple. There are some brief moments with some of the other kids in the home, including Luis, a loud-mouthed, super competitive type that often clashes with Marcus, Grace and Mason's deepening relationship, Grace's connection with Jayden, and Marcus coming to grips with the fact that he will soon be leaving Short Term 12. There isn't intricate plotting, suspenseful cliff-hangers or very much action (except an incredibly cathartic moment with mid-sized family vehicle). The camera-work is also straightforward, although the cinema verite style perfectly reflects what makes Short Term 12 such a fantastic film. 

By standing back and observing, capturing the pain and the joy of his subjects, Cretton is able to fashion a world that is so convincingly realistic that it feels like you're watching a documentary. Every character is introduced and then slowly more and more details about them organically emerge into a deeply flawed, but incredibly beautiful portrait of a complex individual. These people do not feel like products of someone's imagination. They feel like real human beings with actual feelings and emotions. They feel like the real men and women all across the country that work in places like Short Term 12 every single day and that do everything is their power to provide some semblance of a normal life to the kids in their care. And they feel like the kids of parents who either didn't want them or couldn't take care of them, who are trying their damnedest to just figure things out. 

This is also due, in no small part, to the universally outstanding performances of this stellar cast. As the enigmatic Grace, Brie Larson is kind of a revelation. She (with Cretton's direction) holds the audience at as much of an arm's length as the other characters in the film, never wanting to share her darkest secrets, not even to Mason. John Gallagher Jr., a Tony Award-winner for Duncan Sheik's Spring Awakening, also completely sells the lengthy monologues given to him while delicately portraying a guy that is goofy but also acutely sensitive to the needs of everyone around him. In addition, Dever is, as are all of the child actors, fantastic in the role given to her; and Keith Stanfield, in his acting debut as Marcus, has an indelible presence, delivering a reading of a hip-hop song he penned that is absolutely mesmerizing. 

Not many films depict the lives of troubled kids, or the lives of the people that dedicate themselves to helping those kids, with the honesty and empathy that Short Term 12 does. Within an instant, Cretton pulls you into the lives of these characters and in just a few minutes more you feel like you've known them forever. It's possible that the film could have been longer. At 96 minutes, it can at times feel as if Cretton is rushing to his finale. But it's because he has created such an fascinating world filled with so many complex characters, that we want to spend more time here and learn as much as we can about these people. Because they've become a part of us. Their struggles, their defeats, and ultimately their victories all become our own. Though happiness often seems impossible to find for Grace, Mason, Marcus, Jayden, or any of us, there are glimmers of hope out there. Sometimes it's a new connection or the strengthening of an old one. Sometimes it's just being able to open up to someone about the pain you've been holding onto forever. Sometimes it's the promise of the future. And sometimes it's a small, unassuming film that turns out to be kind of a masterpiece.

9 out of 10

Uncovering Television: Thoughts on TOP OF THE LAKE - Episode 5

Top of the Lake's fifth episode is an exhausting 50 minutes of television. Though it is, perhaps paradoxically, a rather subdued episode, "Episode 5" features surprising revelations, brief bouts of intense violence, more unanswered questions and one particularly shocking and devastating moment that leaves both Robin and the audience reeling. Appropriate then, is the fact that the episode conveys a universal and overwhelming feeling of helplessness - Helplessness from a mystery that seems increasingly unsolvable; Helplessness from the past; And helplessness from death. 

Jude (Robyn Nevin), Robin's mother, feeling terrified and powerless in the face of her terminal cancer, visits Paradise. There, she bathes in a small pond with the women of the commune and receives blunt, but oddly comforting words from GJ: "Are you dying? Nothing wrong with that. Very natural. The body knows what to do. Go with the body." And, after hearing that the only drug Jude has is morphine, "Get some heroin." 

You see, too often is the subject of death or of someone dying tiptoed around. And, as Jude later tells Robin, it can be consoling to hear it voiced so directly. Having the people around you be so open about your situation can allow you to be more open about it yourself. However, as open as Jude becomes about her own mortality, she is unable to come to terms with the newest development in her daughter's life - the new, deepening relationship with a one, Johnno Mitcham. After seeing the two embrace in her home, Jude pleads with Robin to stop seeing Johnno, implying there may be more history there than Robin is aware of. Robin agrees, but is only able to keep her word for so long.

There are many parallels between the characters in Top of the Lake; And, not unlike her mother, Robin (either consciously or subconsciously) is in need of someone who will be bluntly open with her about her situation and her past. Equally, Johnno has been struggling with his own feelings of helplessness and, after Robin's prompting (contrary to her position from the episode previous), he finally admits to her that though he was there on the night of Robin's rape, he did nothing to try and protect her. In a beautiful and compassionate moment that shows the product of Robin's many years of experience with understanding and dealing with youth, absolves Johnno stating, "There was nothing you could have done. You were a kid." However, a mixture of helplessness and guilt still remains in Johnno, and the urge to rid Laketop of one of Robin's rapists, Sarge, leads him to charge to Sarge's trailer, beat him up and run him out of town (to, sadly and hilariously, the applause of Sarge's neighbors). It's another interesting parallel between Johnno and Robin, with the latter starting the job by stabbing Sarge in the episode previous and the former finishing the job this week. Top of the Lake's writers have a wonderful knack for showing connections between characters without dialogue, and this is just another example showing the growing bond between Robin and Johnno Mitcham. 

In the world of Tui's case, Robin is surprisingly yet unsurprisingly asked to return to duty. It's a bit odd to have Robin let go from the case only to have her reinstated in the next episode. But, perhaps instead of it being a fault on the part of the writers, it goes to show the indecisiveness and strange, internal motivations of Al Parker. It's not really clear if his asking her back is a product of the reporter we see later in the episode, the man who we see Robin speaking with at the end of "Episode 4," or Al's obvious romantic interest in Robin. Regardless of whether or not it's that final reason, the fact still remains that Al is clearly smitten with Robin - from abruptly asking her to marry him to warning Robin, not unlike her mother, to stay away from "you drug addict friend, [Johnno]." Al Parker is kind of quietly disgusting to me, and it's another credit to the show the way the writes are able to make these slimy, unlikable characters sympathetic. At the end of the episode, Al's actions toward a suspect and then reaction to Robin's insubordination followed by his attempt to make her jealous by telling her he has a life (including "a hair appointment and then a date with a lady"), is completely pathetic but almost in a "Oh, dude, I feel so bad for you" kind of way. 

This ability to make appalling characters sympathetic can also be applied to Matt Mitcham. Since Tui's disappearance, and more than likely well before, Mitcham has been battling strong feelings of ineffectiveness. Late in the episode, he laments to his mother's grave, "I know I'm useless." Mitcham seems convinced that one night we will just wake up to find Tui back in her bed, safe and sound. And again in this episode he climbs the staircase to Tui's bedroom, only to dejectedly find it empty save for the dog she left behind. 

In a last ditch effort to do something other than sulk around his house as his daughter remains missing, Mitcham tells his sons, to their nonchalant reactions, that he is hiring a couple of hunters to find Tui and will pay them 10,000 dollars to bring her home alive and untouched. Luke and Marc seem to not share their father's enthusiasm, however and mention the various times they walked in on Matt passed out drunk on Tui's bed with her "walking up and down on top of him." It's a strong accusation of incest toward their father. And though early on I believed Matt having an incestuous relationship with Tui was a bit too obvious, his shockingly violent reaction to these claims doesn't exactly instill confidence in the purity of their relationship. 

After Robin accuses Johnno of setting her to be raped 15 years ago (which I can't decide if it is motivated by her attempt to push Johnno away or by the genuine trama and sense of unknowing that the assault inflicted upon her), the two briefly break up only to reunite when Johnno sees the blonde, hooded Jamie (the silent boy with "no" and "yes" on his palms from a previous episodes) again on the lake in his kayak. The pair chases Jamie through the woods but lose sight of him, only to decide in a moment of intense passion (and contrivance) to make love. As the pair engage one another, a couple of off-putting fellows who I assume are the hunters that Mitcham hired discover the couple and film them with a camera phone. After the voyeurs are seen, there is a brief fight and Johnno is able to get the camera but is slashed across the upper-thigh before Robin is able to scare the maybe-hunters away with a few shots from her pistol. 

Thankfully, Robin is able to get Johnno to Paradise, where the women of the commune are more than happy to strip him of his clothes and apply pressure to his injury. As Johnno is being tended to, he and Robin flick through the shots of their writhing bodies on the voyeur-hunters' phone when something else that catches their eyes - a brief shot of Tui wandering out of a cave, floating into view, a ghostly figure in her white parka. She almost manifests out of thin air before dissipating just as quickly behind a thicket of trees. It's a breathtaking shot, beautifully elegant and moving to Robin and the women of Paradise alike; not only because of the hope it garners that maybe Tui is still alive, but also because this discovery occurs outside of the realms of knowledge of both Matt Mitcham and the police department. Paradise has also represented a safe haven for abused women and none of its members would ever alert these larger groups to this new information for fear that it might bring down greater harm on Tui's head should she be found. Instead, they seem to be biding their time, hoping, like Matt, that Tui will return to them for help. Robin too, though apart of one of these larger groups, remains silent, unwilling to place Tui's fate in the hands of men she doesn't trust. It's significant that when nearly all of the men are rendered helpless or ineffectual in one way or another, Robin and the once beaten-down women of Paradise would rise to be the strongest characters in the episode - having the most up-to-date information on Tui, taking care of the enfeebled Johnno, and, in the case of GJ, imbuing Jude with the strength to face her impending death bravely and with dignity. 

And shockingly Jude does die. Upon getting back to her mother's home, Jude's boyfriend Turangi (Calvin Tuteao) reveals that Jude died in the hospital. It's a moment that depressingly mirrors a scene in an earlier episode where Robin's obsession with Tui's case causes her to miss one of her mother's important doctor's appointments. It's also a moment that is completely devastating in its suddenness. Yes, Jude was beginning to fully accept her circumstance, but she didn't seem particularly debilitated. Obviously she wasn't healthy, but Death didn't seem to be waiting outside with the car running. After seeing her happily bathing with the women of the commune earlier, something seems inherently wrong with having Jude simply die off camera later in the same episode. 

But that's how death works. It can take a person in an instant (or over a long period of time while the severity and pain is hidden), leaving that person's loved ones confused and totally helpless. Sometimes we don't get the closure that we want and need and I applaud the writers for dealing with such a tragic moment in a way that feels heart-breakingly real. It's like GJ says when she speaks to Jude about the prospect of dying, "It's those you leave behind that will experience your death." And it's Robin and Turangi that are left behind to deal with Jude's unforeseen and untimely demise. (Another interesting parallel that is worth noting is the helplessness and guilt felt by both Robin and Matt Mitcham. Edited one after the other, Robin listening to her mother's final voice-mail message and Matt's flagellation both feel like events of masochistic atonement. It's not the first of these parallels we've seen between Robin and Matt and I can't help but think there might be a connection that's yet to be revealed. Perhaps there's a deeper reason why Jude pleads with Robin to stop seeing Johnno.)

This same masochism is a theme that is becoming more and more prevalent and is seen again when Jamie repeatedly slaps himself after he is taken into custody. He's being interrogated by Robin who is trying to see if she can get any information about Tui out of him when Al takes over. (He also has a bottle of the date-rape drug, Rohypnol, in his possession which is highly unsettling.) It's a strange and horrifying scene that follows as Al perpetrates a series of humiliating punishments on Jamie including pulling his chair out from under him and forcing him to go through the motions of making a cup of tea for his mother. More than anything it feels like another power trip by Al, a need to seize the control he feels he's lost. It's a long, brutal sequence that finally causes Jamie to loudly voice the helplessness felt throughout the entire episode by yelling, "You don't know anything!" (Notably, it's again the women who show strength in the face of this abuse - Robin challenging Al on his actions and Jamie's mother hugging her son to prevent him from hurting himself.) 

But in reality, Jamie is right. Robin and the women of Paradise have seen a small bit of evidence that points to Tui's survival. But none of them know where she is or in what condition she is. There's also Bob Platt's widow (played by Xena herself, Lucy Lawless), who tells Robin that before Bob's death, he had seen something horrific and, in an attempt to get out of Laketop as quickly as possible, sold Paradise for two million dollars. Though it remains to be seen where this new mystery will go, the final, stirring sequence gives the audience irrefutable proof that Tui Mitcham is alive. After ransacking his house, Jamie kayaks across the lake, drops bags of food on the ground and then whistles a bird call. As he does so, Tui rushes out and begins to voraciously consume the spoils Jamie has brought her. Presumably he's been helping her the whole time, but that remains to be seen as she doesn't acknowledge him whatsoever. Admittedly, it's feels like an extremely manufactured cliff-hanger, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't have me intrigued to figure out just what the hell is going on.