Fish & Cat (dir. Shahram Mokri) is a 130-minute Iranian film that takes place in a single shot.

I’d assumed, before arriving in the theater at ND/NF this week, that Fish & Cat would suffer certain limitations of its gimmicky continuous filming: not least of which was the opportunity for error on the part of cast and crew alike. But primarily I was concerned that such a movie would be boring in favor of its technique. The plot would probably be small in scope with a requisite linear narrative.

Fortunately, I was wrong. Fish & Cat is complicated and weird. It’s set up within cinematic traditions of American horror films: rumors of restaurants deep in the woods serving human flesh; a university kite-flying competition at the campsite; creepy old men wandering around the woods carrying a bag of rotting meat. The camera follows one character at a time as they wander the forest and campsite, and jumps between characters as they cross paths like I imagine fleas leap between passing dogs.

The story is non-linear, but also (sort of) linear: time passes normally for the characters but the film loops back on itself, via new characters, to moments already shown. In essence, this is Rust Cohle’s “time is a flat circle” theory in action. It feels like Primer at times, except without time travel.

For example: Kambiz’s dad drops him off at the campsite. Kambiz carries his kite and equipment looking around for a girl he likes, Mina. As Kambiz wanders through the campsite, he passes Parviz, the organizer of the event. The camera then follows Parviz as he looks through his backpack, notices something missing, and walks over to some friends asking about his missing kite lights. Parviz runs into Mina, who gradually makes her way back over to Kambiz, where they have a flirty exchange. Almost an hour later (by my clock), we return via Parviz to that original moment with Kambiz, and this time the camera goes with Kambiz to his campsite instead of with Parviz to his backpack.

But there have been no camera cuts; we have been with characters the entire time (an alibi, if you will, that there has been no opportunity for time to have gone backwards or slowed down in the world of the film). This superb cinematography was executed by Mahmud Kalari (A Separation).

It’s difficult to defend how this complicated narrative works, and at some moments in the film it doesn’t. There are plot points left unexplained, extended narrative arcs that don’t go anywhere. But the spiderweb structure (around and around, and often stuck) is sort of liberating as a viewer, once you give up trying to track it. Fish & Cat gives its audience the opportunity to experience moments again and again, through multiple perspectives and with different contexts.

Fish & Cat will likely not get US distribution for a variety of reasons, which is a shame because I think the film could find an audience here. Its rural setting, conflation of myth and reality, and overwhelmingly creepy tone set Fish & Cat apart from other similar low-budget films, and Mokri is a real emerging talent. I’m always excited to see new films out of Iran -- particularly because of how few Iranian movies actually screen here (Mokri was unable to attend his film’s screening at ND/NF in New York because of how difficult it is for an Iranian to travel to the US). But Fish & Cat is different from what I’ve seen of other contemporary Iranian cinema, and I’m excited to see where Mokri goes next.

Watch the trailer here.

Eliza Rosenberry was a founding e-board member of NUFEC and graduated from Northeastern in 2011. She currently lives in Brooklyn and does book publicity for Blue Rider Press. Find her on Twitter @elizarosenberry.

The film begins in nature, opening with a shot of a snake devouring a fish whole. It doesn’t take more than a minute or two to realize Hide Your Smiling Faces is an atmospheric film more concerned with creating feelings and ideas than a logical narrative. It succeeds tremendously.

Hide Your Smiling Faces has early scenes of kids out in the wild, which reminded me of The Kings of Summer. There’s naturalism to both films, which allows the viewer to feel like they’re really in the woods, not in a movie. However The Kings of Summer became more movie-like as it went on, while Hide Your Smiling Faces continues to feel real yet also more spiritual. It’s calm and balletic like the films of Matthew Porterfield, Apichatpong Weerasethakul and Terrence Malick.

Hide Your Smiling Faces wanders through transformative moments from childhood, without a particularly discernable narrative. It’s literally just shifting from moment to moment. I emphasize the word choice of shifting rather than jumping, as I completely understood where Carbone was taking me and why we moved from scene to scene. I can’t explain why intellectually, I just felt it. Carbone has described this approach saying that the film is not about the childhood you’re remembered for, like school plays or sports awards, but those strange, specific moments that you remember from childhood.

Some scenes include two brothers in a boat talking about death, roughhousing a little too much, and talking about a local tragedy with their parents. There’s nothing particularly special about the moments they choose to show in a grand sense, they’re special to a specific person at a specific time. The success of Hide Your Smiling Faces comes from its masterful command of sound, image and rhythm to convey that specialness to the viewer. This is a debut similar to, but not quite at the level of,  Benh Zeitlin’s Beasts of the Southern Wild or Sean Durkin’s Martha Marcy May Marlene.  While the technical elements feel carefully crafted by an experienced and highly skilled filmmaker, the film is limited by so-so acting.

I wouldn’t quite call this a gem, like Beasts or Martha, but it’s damn close. It’s one of the most impressive films I’ve seen this year and I can’t wait to see what Carbone does next.

Grade: A-

The film is available now on VOD (iTunes, Amazon, and your local cable provider).


Suggested further reading: Rodrigo Perez at The Playlist, Guy Lodge at Variety, and Amber Wilkinson at Eye for Film.

Imagine a biker gang (minus the bikes) knocks on your door loaded with enough artillery to blow up your entire block. Scared? You shouldn’t be—unless your house is a secret meth lab or you are harboring members of a drug cartel—because these men could be an undercover DEA squad. To be fair, you would be scared nonetheless.

Sabotage is (yet) another Schwarzenegger comeback wagon in which he portrays the leader of an unusual DEA undercover team. The movie begins with an explosive raid at a cartel safe house, where the DEA squad hides ten million dollars—a mere chunk of the actual find—inside a toilet outlet (sick) and then blows up the place to cover up their heist. Later, when they visit the drain to recover their loot, they discover that it was swiped away and they have no clue who stole it. The robbery somehow comes under the eye of DEA senior officials who decide to suspend and investigate the team. After a long trial and months of inquiry, the case is closed. After receiving their badges, the team tries to get back on track with some training and just when things seem to get better for them, someone starts hunting them one at a time.

Despite a few explosions, the movie has a very slow start and makes you wonder what a director like David Ayer (End of Watch) is doing with a bunch a recognizable faces and a bland story.  But the movie grabs your attention when one team member, Pyro, is brutally murdered. This is when the story starts to build with a police officer duo investigating the death which later turns into series of planned killings. The movie offers a fair share of twists that keep you wondering the real reason behind the deaths and the intentions of outlandish DEA agents who start to mistrust each other.

Sabotage hails an acceptable story that banks on guns, explosives, blood and guts in addition to a set of surprise cards in its stack. The movie has intermittent dialogues that pack a punch and a hoard of familiar faces that don’t have an individual impact but convincingly play along as a rebellious team, which only Schwarzenegger can control.  If you enjoy thrills from an action flick and can overlook a few plot holes, Sabotage makes for a decent weekend watch.

Grade: B

Hide Your Smiling Faces is the debut feature film from writer/editor/producer/director Daniel Patrick Carbone. The film premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival, and has shown at the Berlin International Film Festival and BFI London Film Festival. NUFEC editor Brandon Isaacson and Carbone discussed Carbone's favorite films, influences on Hide Your Smiling Faces, Kickstarter, and a snake devouring a fish whole. Carbone's award-winning narrative short Feral is available for free online.

Brandon's full review will be posted on Friday, but the film is available now on VOD (iTunes, Amazon, and your local cable provider).

Brandon Isaacson: You’ve said “The intent of Hide Your Smiling Faces is to explore not the moments that we are remembered by, but the moments we remember…” which I felt you absolutely accomplished. That is a really, really difficult exploration to embark upon for your first film, especially since you do so using more emotional logic than narrative logic. Were you fearful that you wouldn’t be able to accomplish this? Or was confidence the only option?

Daniel Patrick Carbone: To make the kind of film I wanted to make, it really felt like the only option. I wanted to explore the darker side of what forces young people to suddenly feel the pressure of responsibility – to suddenly have to grow up. I wanted to put my own spin on a very popular genre – on filled with images of boys chasing girls, or playing sports, or any other more common subject matter dealing with adolescent boys. A lot of films are about the lead up to some massive life lesson or epiphany. By structuring the film as a series of formative moments - all in some way relating to brotherhood, death, loss, or discovery - my hope was to show that the seemingly small moments in our lives are just as important as the more obvious ones. It was all about the details - placing two moments next to each other in the narrative and allowing one to provide context for the other. I wasn’t interested seeing how someone moved from point A to point B, or to fully explain the reasons or ramifications of each action. The film is entirely from the perspective of these two boys as they deal with difficult emotions for the first time and begin to see the world and their relationships in a new light. If a scene wouldn’t be important to these boys in the moment, then it didn’t belong in this film.

Of course there were times when I worried this structure could be alienating, but to be honest I was never really making this film for anyone else. It was a personal story and a personal test for myself. I believed that if I stayed true to my own vision for the film and my own experiences as a child, there would be at least a small group of people with a similar experience who would respond. The positive response has been truly overwhelming, but I think that speaks to an audience’s desire to be an active part of the experience. To have emotion, rather than plot, move them through the film. To not have every detail spelled out to them and to have moments of ambiguity for them to fill in themselves. That is what I look for in a film so I was hoping others would feel the same. But sure, at times it was terrifying. The good thing for me was that I didn’t have any investors or producers to pay back so the risk was entirely on me, and I can deal with that.

BI: To play off that last question, is there a small moment from the process of making and releasing this film that sticks with you? One of those somewhat irrelevant but powerful small experiences that you explore in the film? It doesn’t have to have any relevance to the film or distribution, I’m just curious if there’s been a random but notable special time with a rain droplet or a croissant or an interaction with someone. Perhaps something you’ll look back upon in a different film 10 years from now.

DPC: The opening shot in the film was not something we planned. I knew that I wanted to start the film with an image of nature or wildlife, but I didn’t actually have a specific plan when we started shooting. We were always out in the woods so I was just hoping a deer or bird would walk by and we could steal a shot of it. When we found that snake on the riverbank, struggling to devour a fish whole, we stopped everything we were doing. It was beyond anything I could have ever set up. It was like mother nature knew we needed something special. I think aside from being an arresting image - sort of beautiful and disturbing at the same time - it also speaks to a lot of the themes in the film. It was just perfect. I’ll remember that moment every time I make a new film. Sometimes the most meaningful parts of a project will be the ones you could never plan on.

BI: I’m curious to hear more about how the business of the film impacted its creation. Why did you go to Kickstarter to help with production costs? How did that impact the shoot and support for the film?

DPC: The business of film wasn’t really something I was conscious of while making this film. I just didn’t know anything about it, but I think that was a positive thing. Aside from the fact that I had to fund the film primarily with my own money, I didn’t have any of the baggage of making a “sellable” film. I think if I knew then want I know now, the film would be very different, and ironically, would likely not have been as successful. My first real education about with “the business of film” came at the IFP Labs. It’s a program in NYC that helps first time filmmakers get their film finished and out into the world. What’s great about the program is that you enter into it after already having shot the film. Its not about how to make a film that will sell, its about taking the film you’ve already made and figuring out the best way to introduce it to the audiences. Just because a film isn’t “commercial” in the traditional sense, doesn’t mean there isn’t an audience for it, or that a distributor won’t be interested. Its just about navigating the business the way that is smartest for whatever type of film you’ve made.

Kickstarter was used as a means to raise a bit of money, but more importantly to introduce the film to a network family and friends. They provided a solid base of fans that we could rely on to support the film throughout it’s life and help spread the word wider when that time came. The money was of course very helpful, but it was only a fraction of the final budget. I think crowdsourcing is even more useful for building and audience than it is for fundraising.

Brandon Isaacson: The first film that came to mind when Hide Your Smiling Faces began was The Kings of Summer, and it does have some similar subject matter. However, it didn’t take long to realize that your style is very different from Vogt-Roberts. This film is far more calm, spiritual and balletic. It reminded me of Weerasethakul’s Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives or Porterfield’s Putty Hill. What films inspired you, in terms of content and style?

Daniel Patrick Carbone: Some of the more obvious references for this film are the debut coming-of-age films by some of my favorite directors; Lynne Ramsey’s Ratcatcher, David Gordon Green’s George Washington, Tarkovsky’s Ivan’s Childhood just to name a few. I definitely wanted to take a more serious look at the moments in our young lives that help define us, and wanted to spend every possible moment dealing with the themes at hand, rather than focusing on a traditional narrative. How relationships change after a tragedy, how we all grieve differently, how we find our place in the world and how nature factors into all of that. I wanted to explore very big ideas by way of a very small story. This script began as a series of personal memories. That idea of a “remembered childhood” guided the entire writing process as well as the final structure of the finished film. I’m inspired by filmmakers that value atmosphere and tone as much as character and plot. Another Tarkovsky film, STALKER, has a perfect blend of content and style. My cinematographer Nick Bentgen and I spent a lot of time discussing that film. I’m hypnotized by it. I’m inspired by the way it makes me feel.

BI: Hopefully my last question is a fun one to answer! Since we’re a film club that focuses on watching rather than producing films, I must ask…what are some of your favorite films? Or perhaps off the beaten path choices that you recommend?

DPC: This is tough. I’m one of those people whose “favorite film” changes depending on the mood I’m in or project I’m working on. I try to see as much as I can and love all sorts of films. Here are just a few, but ask me tomorrow and the list might be different.

Revanche (2008), Gotz Spielmann

Barry Lyndon (1975), Stanley Kubrick

Wild at Heart (1990), David Lynch

Come and See (1985), Elem Klimov

Old Joy (2006), Kelly Reichardt

The Saddest Music in the World (2003), Guy Maddin

Dogtooth (2009), Giorgos Lanthimos

Breaking the Waves (1996), Lars Von Trier

Aguirre: The Wrath of God (1972), Werner Herzog

Blade Runner (1982), Ridley Scott

Wild Strawberries (1957), Ingmar Bergman

Mr. Death (1999), Errol Morris

Cache (2005), Michael Haneke

Underground (1995), Emir Kusturica

Primer (2004), Shane Carruth

Other interviews worth checking out include Indiewire's Tribeca coverage, Carbone's life in 10 films via The Playlist, and a video interview with RCN TV.

Set in a dystopian future and featuring a strong female protagonist, Divergent is the latest young adult sci-fi adaptation to hit the big screen. Based on the popular bestseller by Veronica Roth, the film centers on a society in which all citizens are required to choose and then live in one of five factions--Abnegation, Amity, Candor, Dauntless, and Erudite--each of which emphasizes one particular virtue. Once you choose your faction there is no going back, so the Choosing Ceremony at which all sixteen year olds make their decision is kind of a big deal. Thankfully, to make things a little easier there’s an aptitude test that will tell you exactly where you belong.

Unless you’re Beatrice Prior, that is.

Shailene Woodley is outstanding as our heroine, whose test results reveal that she is “Divergent” and cannot be categorized into any one faction. This is extremely rare, and in a government system that thrives on oppression and conformity, very dangerous. The confused Beatrice is left to her own devices at the Choosing Ceremony, where she decides to leave her family and join Dauntless, which values bravery and trains its citizens to become soldiers to protect the factions from the unknown outside world.

As Beatrice, who is renamed Tris upon joining Dauntless, struggles to keep up with the other initiates in a series of mental and physical challenges, she must also work to keep her true identity a secret. This becomes difficult as her instructor Four (Theo James), a love interest, and later government official Jeanine Matthews (Kate Winslet), become suspicious of her. Rather than allow Four to become a standard, one-dimensional love interest, James brings substance to the character, who has a few secrets of his own. Winslet, however, hardly makes a convincing villain. The character is underwritten and underdeveloped, and fails to bring a sense of urgency even at the film’s climax.

Winslet isn’t the only one suffering from the bland script here. Ansel Elgort, as Tris’s twin brother Caleb, as well as Zoe Kravitz and Ben Lloyd-Hughes as fellow Dauntless initiates, aren’t given enough to really distinguish themselves as actors or their characters as people.

The action scenes--particularly those showcasing the fearlessness of the Dauntless--are beautifully shot, and the film is, for the most part, faithful to its source material. But it spends a little too much time setting up its premise--Tris’s transition and initiation into Dauntless--and not enough exploring the larger themes, such as the true intentions of oppressive government officials like Jeanine Matthews and what being Divergent really means for Tris.

Despite its flaws, Divergent has a solid lead in Shailene Woodley, who is more than capable of carrying the franchise. And with all the worldbuilding out of the way and the premise firmly established, there’s plenty of room for the sequels to consider more deep, thought-provoking ideas. For now, though, this first installment is likely to please its large, dedicated fan base.

Grade: B

The Lunchbox, Ritesh Batra’s directorial debut, is the most heartwarmingly relatable film you’ll see so far this year.

It follows a very simple plot. Based around India’s lunchbox delivery service (known as the dabbawalas), a young woman, Ila, expertly crafts her husband’s lunches every day in an attempt to reestablish the spark in their marriage. One day, the lunchbox ends up in the wrong hands – those of Sajaan Fernandez, an older lonely widower at another business. Ila and Sajaan start passing notes via lunchbox, forming a touching platonic friendship in which both vent to, and learn from, each other.

For a film that was first set out to be a documentary, Batra instead produces a fictional story relatable to any audience. After spending a week with dabbawalas, he overheard numerous personal accounts of the deliverymen and chose to transform the experience into a script.

It’s a predictable story of unlikely friendship, but that doesn’t make it any less meaningful. Composed of beautifully framed depictions of life in Mumbai, we get a glimpse at Ila’s struggle to maintain happiness in a land where women’s roles are clearly defined. We also see a lonely man, just weeks away from retiring, finding meaning in new friends and another side of life.

Batra cleverly keeps the story realistic, always adding a handmade touch yet often using clichés that work in his favor. The film was well-received at most festivals, and for good reason – it’s perfect in its simplicity.

Starring Irrfan Khan (Life of Pi, Slumdog Millionaire) as Sajaan and Nimrat Kaur as Ila, The Lunchbox will seem familiar and unique at the same time, leaving you feeling pleasant and with a new sense of perspective.

Grade: A+

Cloud Atlas is not just one story; it is six different stories spanning styles from historical drama to goofy comedy to sci-fi action thriller. The stories follow a fascinating array of characters like a tough independent journalist, a bisexual English composer, and an enslaved clone. Each of these stories is wonderful on its own, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Cloud Atlas is about not any one of these tales, but all of them at once, and the greater story they tell together.

Let me preface this by saying that Cloud Atlas is not exactly what you would call an ordinary Hollywood film. For starters, the stories are not told in a conventional manner. Much like Tarantino’s works, the stories follow no chronological path. The film is edited in such a way that it constantly jumps between all six stories, telling them simultaneously. While initially quite disorientating, this style of storytelling is actually vital to understanding the film. After a while, you begin to realize that, in all the tales, all the heroes go through the same trials and challenges. At one point, the film flashes between several different characters trying to escape and gain their freedom, while another point shows the heroes all experiencing tender moments of love and kindness, and so-on. Despite their differences, each character contributes a unique aspect of the same story, and the film explores how that same story repeats through time. All of this has happened before and all of it will happen again.

Reinforcing this timeless theme, each actor in the film portrays between three and six different characters, each occupying a different historical era. It can be quite jarring to see Tom Hanks first play a Cockney English gangster, then a nerdy nuclear physicist, and finally a hallucinating tribal elder; however, it is a perfect demonstration of the phenomenal quality of acting from every member of the cast. Of course, these stories are interconnected, and so are the characters; a comet-shaped birthmark graces each story’s hero, and each hero learns the story of the preceding time period while telling their own. But like any good work with mystical undertones, the film leaves the precise connections between everything ambiguous. Even more fun, there are hints of several ways they could be connected, and each of these possibilities contradict each other. Don’t try to make sense of it logically; just go with it and let yourself get lost in the story.

This film is remarkable in so many ways. I know of no other film that is able to tell six different stories (in six different genres no less!) at once and have it not only make sense, but also do so in such a manner that it increases the artistic quality of the film. The editing alone deserves an Oscar, not to mention the costumes, special effects, and makeup. Halle Berry was white for one role while Hugo Weaving was a woman, and I didn’t recognize either of them the first time I watched. And the screenplay! David Mitchell’s novel, upon which this film is based, was ordered entirely differently and yet the film still makes just as much sense.

Cloud Atlas is greater than the sum of its parts. Just as six stories come together to tell one overarching story, this films shows how all the constituent parts of modern cinema can come together to make a masterpiece. When writing, acting, editing, special effects, makeup, and everything else truly sync, the result can be absolutely marvelous. Cloud Atlas is at its core a perfect example of the magic of the cinema to sweep us away on a journey through what is possible and what is impossible. Cloud Atlas is, simply, a great story; six and one at once.

Grade: A+

Before I get into the actual review, I’d like to clarify for all of the Wicker Man purists out there that yes, I watched the canonical unrated version of the film with the more graphic (yet shorter) ending. I spared no expense to make sure that I experienced this important film as perfectly as possible; I found a 4:3 pan-and-scan copy and calibrated my sound equipment precisely to accentuate bees buzzing and nonsensical screaming. So before you go onto r/onetruegod and write nasty posts questioning my viewing methods, know that I did my best to appreciate The Wicker Man with all the integrity that it’s due.

With that out of the way, let’s get right to it. The Wicker Man is a horror film starring Nicholas Cage and various other actors and actresses that are not Nicholas Cage. It is a remake of a 1973 cult classic by Robin Hardy (that, sadly, does not star Nicholas Cage). Edward Malus is a cop traumatized by the death of a little girl and her mother who were hit by a truck after he pulled them over. While taking time off from work to recover, he receives a letter from his ex-fiancée saying her daughter has gone missing and she wants him to find her on a little island in Puget Sound. When Edward arrives, he finds out (much later than the audience does) that things on this strange little island are not what they seem. 

Cage plays Edward with the nuance and skill of a squirrel on quaaludes; every line, facial expression, and gesture is either a completely nonchalant declarative statement or a tirade of anger and frustration. It’s a masterpiece of mediocrity. There is no rhyme or reason to anything he does. I wonder, does Cage try for this kind of image? Does he secretly know that he’s such a fantastic actor that he can get away with not giving a shit? Or does he genuinely think that random changes in volume make for compelling performances? The world may never know. But at least we can all agree that he has the best hair the world has ever seen. 

Writer-director Neil LaBute and Nicholas Cage are a match made in heaven comparable to Joss Whedon and Robert Downey, Jr. in The Avengers. There is no way that the world back in 2006 was ready for the magic of this movie. This is the movie that began some of the most iconic bad-movie moments, including the infamous “Not the Bees!” and “How’d It Get Burned?!” scenes, but more importantly, The Wicker Man contains what I believe is the greatest moment in cinema history. (Seriously, click it. The title of the video backs me up.) As for the plot itself, it’s so poorly paced that you have to laugh at it in the same way you laugh at two drunk guys trying to order Dominoes. LaBute tried to keep the audience on edge by gradually releasing information as the script went on, but it’s painfully obvious from get-go that there’s something fishy (or sharky) about this island and Edward is completely oblivious to it. He tries to reason with people on the island, but even when they spout out some poorly-written line about nature and the gods and something or other, he stops and brushes it off like nothing is happening. It makes no sense and it’s comedy gold. 

The original Wicker Man is regarded as a horror classic (I wish I could have seen it), so I can only imagine that the island’s nature cult in the original film was menacing and scary instead of incompetent and emo like the remake portrays them. The nature cult is the reason the original movie could have worked, so I’m amazed that LaBute and his creative team could have 100% missed that extremely important element in this remake. 

Unless he didn’t.

Earlier this year, Studio Canal and Robert Hardy launched a major search for the original cut of The Wicker Man and found a working original cut, which was to be remastered and released. If it worked for the original UK version version, maybe it’ll work for the remake. I propose that we launch a search for extra Wicker Man footage that may have been lost. It’s very possible that the crew was so incompetent that they lost an entire reel of important footage; after all, they thought this was a good enough performance. Even if we don’t find any competent footage or actually discover that none exists, maybe we’ll find some great undiscovered Cageism that has yet to take the internet by storm. 

Somebody get Oprah in on this. She loves bees. 

This article is part of NUFEC's Bad Movies series. Find The Wicker Man on Amazon here. 

Shockingly violent yet uproariously funny, The Grand Budapest Hotel maintains the delightfully quirky, hyper-stylized, and other unmistakable marks of a Wes Anderson flick. However, it features characters in situations notably more tangible than his previous films. Packed with action, intrigue, miniature buildings, and young love, Wes has created a world I’m sure most would be excited to check-in to.

The Grand Budapest Hotel is a story within a story within a story within a story (much less confusing than it sounds) largely set in an imaginary yet familiar Eastern European nation between two wars in the 1930s. The film explores the adventures of a legendary concierge, Gustave H, and his trusted lobby boy, Zero Moustafa, in the Grand Budapest Hotel. Gustave H has a flair for rich, blonde, vain, older women and enjoys speaking in sumptuously sophisticated poetic prose. After one of his latest and longest trysts, Madame D. (Tilda Swinton), departs the hotel with a premonition of death, she is murdered. Gustave rushes to her and learns she willed him a priceless Renaissance painting called “Boy With Apple”. Her dysfunctional family is so furious that her two sons, Dmitri (Adrien Brody) and Joping (Willem Dafoe), end up knocking out Gustave and Zero at the reading of the will. Gustave is implicated soon in her murder by a man who is now missing and is taken to jail by a reluctant policeman, Henckels (Edward Norton). Madame D.’s lawyer, Deputy Kovacs (Jeff Goldblum), attempts to piece together her will under the watchful eye of her family, and Zero must employ his love interest, a baker named Agatha (Saoirse Ronan), to help Gustave escape from prison and clear his name. Chases on motorcycles, trains, sleds, and skis ensue as the adventures twist and turn in a hilarious fashion. 

The all-star cast knocks it out of the park—though I suppose it’s hard to go wrong when you’re working with Ralph Fiennes, Tilda Swinton, Harvey Keitel, Adrian Brody, Jeff Goldblum, Willem Dafoe, Saoirse Ronan and F. Murray Abraham in addition to Anderson’s regulars Bill Murray, Jason Schwartzman, and Edward Norton. For the more refined Anderson fans, you’ll also notice two teen boys returning to Anderson’s set after playing minor roles in his last film, Moonrise Kingdom. With such star power behind each role, you might think it’d be hard to keep them all straight; but Wes doesn’t equate star power with screen time, keeping these wonderful performances in short quips.

As with every other Anderson film, familial discourse is the norm among characters; yet this film feels very different. Anderson provides a much lighter take on the issues underlying each character’s family life. I can’t help but think of a recent conversation I had with Boston Globe critic Ty Burr, during which he commented, “This is the first Wes Anderson movie that doesn't feel as if it's nursing a private wound.” The characters seem to take themselves much less seriously. Gustave speaks poetically, but at one point as he’s about to launch into an all-too-familiar diatribe, he instead says, “Oh, fuck it” and takes a drink. Anderson seems to replace his usual emotionally heavy scenes and moments, like suicide in The Royal Tenenbaums or abandonment in Moonrise Kingdom, with straight forward violence. This reflects the darkness of the previous and impending wars the story is sandwiched between—and Willem Dafoe plays the perfect villain.

Wes’s style is perhaps one of the most recognizable in cinema, and The Grand Budapest Hotel delivers a hilarious and enjoyable story with heart shrouded in just the right number of [probably model-size] clouds.

Grade: A

Bad Words had the potential to be a lame foul-mouthed comedy a la Adam Sandler’s body of work. However, Jason Bateman’s directorial debut is surprisingly sweet and poignant while still packing an offensive, hilarious punch. The movie is called Bad Words for a good reason: this has some of the most offensive dialogue I’ve ever seen in a movie. Most of it is for shock value, similar to South Park, but its solid characters and pacing make for a much more rewarding experience compared to others in the shock-comedy genre.

Jason Bateman stars as Guy Trilby, a 40-year-old man who never passed the eighth grade. He uses his middle school failure as an excuse to enter an elementary school spelling bee. The movie takes place during the three day championship as Guy deals with a barrage of criticism, tries to keep a reporter (Katheryn Hahn) at arm’s length, and develops an odd friendship with a little Indian boy named Chaitainya (played with surprising conviction by Rohan Chand, who has had a few very small roles in film and TV). Guy’s cruel and indifferent attitude is the source of all the humor in the movie, especially when it comes to his interactions with the parents of the spelling bee kids. They are stuck up and exaggerated, so when Guy goes on a horribly offensive tirade (NSFW), the reactions are priceless.

Chaitainya is a fantastic character. At the start of the movie, he’s bright and optimistic, but as the movie goes on and Guy begins to corrupt him, he starts to see a fulfilling side of life. He sees the value of real friendship (his “best friend” is his dictionary binder), and ultimately, a dark side of competition. As the movie develops, Chaitainya reacts to the outlandish events very naturally, just like an innocent kid would as he’s starting to be exposed to real life. Though he’s only a kid, Chand plays the role very professionally and believably, something that’s hard to find in a child actor. The only reason Guy hangs out with him is because his hotel room has a minibar, but Chaitainya creates this strange soft spot in Guy. Despite how much of a jerk Guy is throughout the whole movie, it feels genuine for him to give a helping hand to a kid whose father is distant and aloof. Even though Guy is still crass with him, it feels slightly sarcastic, like he’s trying to save face after letting his guard down. Their bizarre companionship is what drives the movie.

While the movie is very entertaining, Guy’s strange personal journey is what makes us want to keep watching. Without giving too much away, his strange reasons for wanting to be a part of this children's competition are intriguing enough that, when juxtaposed with his harsh attitude and admiration for Chaitainya, make Guy an interesting character that we want to root for (even when he verbally abuses spelling bee contestants onstage). Bad Words succeeds in bringing us both a ludicrous story with vulgar humor and a set of satisfying characters that have compelling things to do. They’re both handled in a way where they coexist but don’t clash, a very rare feat.

Grade: A-