​In our day of viral video culture, movie trailers are becoming more and more important for bringing viewers to cinemas. When I first saw the trailer for American Pastoral, I was immediately intrigued, which was obviously the goal. The trailer conveyed the basics about the movie: Ewan McGregor was trying his hand at directing, Dakota Fanning had come out of hiding, yet another Philip Roth novel was being made into a film this year, plus there was an explosion which is seemingly always a draw for American audiences. As a sucker for historical fiction as well, I had every reason to believe that I would like this movie, and that it would be good. Lionsgate must’ve employed the best trailer-makers of all time, because I was really and truly duped. 

This film’s sole redeeming quality is the story. It’s an engaging one for anyone remotely interested in recent American history. In his novel, Roth explored the 1960s anti-war protest movements and how they impacted real people. Seymour “Swede” Levov (Ewan McGregor), a former high school football all-star, and his former beauty queen wife Dawn (Jennifer Connelly) raise a stubborn and headstrong daughter named Merry (Dakota Fanning). Her spirited attitude lends itself to the anti-war mood permeating through the American youth at the time, leading her to criminal behavior and a life on the run. Though I have not yet read the book (intentional avoidance in order to remain objective), there was clearly a strong foundational narrative that the screenwriter worked off. Plus, it won a Pulitzer Prize so I have no doubt that it was a great literary work. Throughout the movie, I was able to make out the skeleton of Roth’s intended plotline and themes. The writing was halfway decent (though it probably didn’t fully do Roth’s writing justice), and thank God for that. 

Right away we are introduced to a narrator named Nathan Zuckerman, played by David Straithairn, who is basically irrelevant to the entire story. He’s the friend of the brother of Swede, or something equally convoluted. His purpose is quite unclear until we are introduced to the Levov family. Each of the three Levovs is incredibly unlikeable to the point that I could not have cared less what happened to any of them. Zuckerman, though his appearances are limited to the very beginning and the very end, is meant to be a proxy for the audience. We, alongside Zuckerman, are hearing the story. He, not the Levovs, is the one we are bound to relate to. This device is questionable and often alienates me as a viewer. I detested the use of a similar method in the 2013 Great Gatsby, even though the narrator doubled as the protagonist. Some tactics can translate easily from page to screen, but this is not one of them.  

Aside from that dubious narrative device, there was plenty wrong with American Pastoral cinematically as well. Nearly every aspect of the film felt like it was done by an amateur. The framing of every shot was careless and had no cinematographic value. Despite the cast of seasoned actors, each performance was on par with actors in a mediocre community theatre production. Nothing about the film felt genuine. In fact, it all felt forced and artificial, and despite the constant feel of exaggeration it still fell short of its dramatic intentions. Though McGregor is technically a directing amateur, I refuse to give him a pass. Someone who has been in the film industry for over twenty years should have some idea of what a good movie looks like. 

I am absolutely puzzled as to how a movie that had so much going for it was able to turn out so poorly. This is not the type of movie you expect to be bad. It is not a B-movie, Jason Statham action flick. It is a historical fiction drama made by people who I thought knew what they were doing. It is frustrating to see so much wasted potential. If you had any interest in seeing this film, or even if you didn’t, I advise you to stay away at all costs. Take the $12 you would spend on a movie ticket and spend it on the book instead. 

Grade: D+ 

The spy genre is one that seen its fair share of films in recent years. The genre is obviously not new, with the James Bond franchise being one of Hollywood’s oldest and most lucrative, but I can’t help but feel like more and more films with at least a hint of espionage have been coming out as of late. We have the darker action of the Bond and Bourne series, the dramatic Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy and Bridge of Spies and the lighthearted yet violent Kingsman: The Secret Service and The Man from U.N.C.L.E. However, the full-on spy comedy seems to be one of the more popular of the sub-genres, possibly stemming from the great success of the Austin Powers films. And with the sub-genre of spy-comedy having been done multiple times over the past few years, the success of another one hinges on its ability to differentiate itself from the last few. Does Keeping Up with the Joneses do enough to make it stand out among the crowd of spy-comedies? 
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The movie follows a suburban couple in their normal, boring town. Jeff Gaffney (Zach Galifianakis) works at the human resources department of a tech company, and his wife Karen (Isla Fisher) remodels bathrooms. With their kids off to camp, the Gaffney’s keep themselves occupied by spying on their new neighbors, Tim and Natalie Jones (Jon Hamm and Gal Gadot). Karen suspects that the Joneses aren’t who they claim, seeming oddly overachieved and perfect, and finds out that the two of them are American spies. After learning the Joneses secret, Jeff and Karen get caught up in the spy world and are forced to help their neighbors catch a potential terrorist.

Keeping Up with the Joneses follows almost every convention of the spy-comedy, placing normal suburban people into the world of secret agents and action. The Joneses themselves are cooler than any real people, an obvious parody of spies like James Bond, and the Gaffneys are about as basic and neutral as a suburban couple can be. None of the four leads turn in a bad performance, but nothing they do is really of any note either. They are serviceable for what the movie is, but nothing they ever said or did had me laughing hysterically or becoming more invested in their lives. There are chuckles here and there, mostly when Jon Hamm’s Tim responds to the hysterics of Galifianakis’s Jeff.

But the problem stems from the films overall lack of originality. Every turn, gag and character feels like it has been done at least a few times by now. Nothing happened that felt original to the genre. And sometimes, it’s not entirely necessary for a movie to be innovative or wholly original to be fun to watch. But Keeping Up with the Joneses isn’t laugh-out-loud funny enough to make me forget that I’ve seen these characters going through these same motions before. Relief did come in the form of Patton Oswalt as the villainous Bruce, though he only takes up about 10 minutes of screen-time. His presence is by far the funniest part of the movie, making the climax of the film far more entertaining that the rest. However, I don’t think that was enough to save the movie from mere decency. If you are a fan of the general tropes of the spy-comedy, it’s probably worth a rental once it’s out on DVD. 

Grade: B-

Usually, the “needlessly complicated” in needlessly complicated action movies comes from them feeling like the result of the writer throwing a bunch of characters and scenarios into a running blender. Stringing a story together with childhood flashbacks and sudden revelations, their pacing becomes so muddled that there’s nothing definite for us to hold onto as we’re whisked from foreign vacation spots to high-tech mansions to cities whose names pop up in the corner of the screen. While those same pieces make up the strange beast that is The Accountant, instead of coming out as pure sludge, the slow dribble of action and thinly spread layers of characterization over its first half combined with an onslaught of bodies and twists going into the climax create a deliberately portioned but only occasionally interesting smoothie. 

Nothing hampers the movie and contributes to its lethargic start more than Ben Affleck’s Chris Wolff, a mathematically brilliant accountant whose autism pushes him away from everyone else in his world as well as from any interesting developments. Having to play an underdeveloped character shouldn’t count against Affleck, but his forgettable presence is especially noticeable alongside the solid performances of the remaining cast, especially Jon Bernthal, who acts as the rowdy antithesis to Chris’ withdrawn assassin, and JK Simmons as the seasoned cop leading the investigation after him. Working at the robotic prosthetics company where Chris has been hired to find any faults in their records, Anna Kendrick’s upbeat Dana provides a good potential foil for him to show us more about his past and a much needed shot in the arm for the so-far tedious pace, but their conversations quickly end up being the most lackluster part of the film and exacerbate the main issue that Gavin O’Connor keeps running into: focusing on a character who doesn’t like to talk to anyone means everything we need to know about him is forced to come from a flashback, slowing the story down even further.

Most of these problems don’t surface in the second half of the film, but neither do many of the characters, including Dana, and after the initial relief of watching some brutally intimate fistfights (carried over from O’Connor’s exhilarating cage matches in Warrior), the story begins to feel like the finale of a premium TV crime series we’re being shown as the pilot. What could have been a fulfilling redemption and reunion with some context outside of hurried flashbacks ends up being another detriment to the rest of the film, spreading the characters out further across another direction the plot should have stuck with as the main one. 

The unconventional protagonist of Chris makes for an interesting concept, especially for a $44 million Hollywood thriller, and could have really carried a more compressed film that shaved away a storyline here and there, so while The Accountant goes down relatively easy as it is, it’s hard to shake the feeling that it could have been really refreshing had it only been mixed a bit better.

Grade: C-

​Haley Emerson: So you’re a newcomer to Hollywood -- how has it been treating you? Do you feel like you’ve been welcomed? Do you feel like it’s been kind of a culture shock?

Sasha Lane: I mean, I’ve definitely gone about it my own way and luckily, it’s been received very, very well. It’s...yeah, like I don’t really...I’m experiencing things that are still like “woah, okay” but luckily I’ve kind of just been able to do as I do, and they’ve taken that and that’s great. 

Tim Jackson: I’ve got a process question -- I know Andrea doesn’t like to talk about her process much, but it sure seems like you guys are partying. I mean, I’m just wondering, are you guys really drinking and smoking pot? I mean, was all this just to sort of...did you have to act it all? I think it would be easier a bit inebriated, especially with the naked guy. (laughs) He’s really out there…

SL: [laughs] We were just in it, feeding off of the energies, you know?

HE: [laughs] Yeah, that was sort of one of my questions. Like, was it as fun as it seems? And I’m sure that it was.

SL: Yeah, but it was also way more emotionally exhausting and scary than it shows. So there’s a flipside, too.

HE: Right. So what was your biggest challenge in shooting the film?

SL: I think it was having to be very vulnerable in certain things, and it’s hard for me to open that up and to know that everyone’s going to be...that’s like spilling my soul out. And so it was really hard to have to get to certain places and bring back up memories and experiences and put that out there, but it just helps to think that I was representing a lot of people, too, and a lot of different things, and so it was worth it. And Andrea [Arnold, director] is very...you want to do anything for her. You know she has you. She knows that there’s, like, this trust and this connection and a purpose.

TJ: But not everyone can do that. What do you think it is about you that enables you to kind of access that. I mean, you know, it’s amazing performance. Everyone is saying it’s an amazing performance. You may not want to hear that it is, but it is.

HE: It really is!

SL: [laughs]

TJ: You know, not everybody can access that stuff and focus like that…

SL: Empathy. You know, I think I’m very, very empathetic. I’m very...I listen to what’s around and I have a love for people and certain things, and I think all of that just fed into all of it. You’re able to go to these certain places and to push out an energy that gets across the screen because I feel everything so hard.

TJ: Yeah, and that’s what Andrea saw in you, obviously. She can see that in a person.

SL: Yeah! She’s another one of those people. She just gets that feeling, like, “this is right,” which makes you feel really good about yourself.

HE: Do you think that kind of contributed to your natural ability as an actor? Was this something that you ever considered as a career path, or even as a passion? Or was it kind of just something, like this project, that just fell in your lap? 

SL: I mean, I’ve always had thoughts like, “I would like to be able to portray that and make people feel that” and “I wonder if I could,” whatever, but the industry and the fact that I’m really uncomfortable and all of those things...and you don’t think, as a Texas girl, you don’t think that can happen. So, yeah, I didn’t want to pursue it, and it wasn’t something that I even thought that could happen...but it was funny, like I always said “if someone randomly picked me up, maybe I’d do it.” 

HE: And here you are!

SL: [laughs] Yeah, and there comes Andrea. Yeah, but I feel like everything happens for a reason and I very much feel like that was meant to happen and, you know, it was meant to be. So I don’t even take it as, “oh, lucky me” and “this was all…” It’s like, no, you stuck to who you were and everything that’s happened in your life is what’s got you here.

HE: And it’s because you stuck to that.

SL: Yeah! And it all, like, kinda comes back together.

TJ: The other people who were cast, have you stayed friends with them? Are they sort of on the same page, I mean, do they want to be actors? Has this affected their lives? Have you talked to them? Or are they just done with this?

SL: I mean, I think everyone was changed in some way through this, but the thing about it which is beautiful in its way because they’re so unapologetic. We’re all very much ourselves and have our own things. Like this is what I was meant to do, and a lot of them are like, “I’m good where I’m at, I don’t want that. This was an experience, cool, I’m gonna go back and do what I do,” you know? And they’re good. A lot of people are like, “oh, sadness, you should do this,” and it’s like, they have their little family that they’ve created, they have a beer, and they have their porch, their truck, whatever they love, and they’re good. 

HE: Yeah, I feel like the assumption is that whenever someone gets a taste of the spotlight, they just need to grab onto it and just climb up. But it’s really cool that it’s just these people that had fun with the experience and leave it at that.

SL: Yeah, and they’re cool. And the way I’ve taken, it’s not like, “let me be in this world.” It’s more like, I feel this is a pathway for my purpose and that’s why I’m in it. And then you have people, like the guy who plays J.J. (Raymond Coalson), he wants to do, like, reality TV and you’re just like...you were meant for something like that, because you just wanna listen to him and you can’t take your eyes off him and he has that about him. So that can be his path. And the rest...yeah, they are good where they’re at. Like, “cool, we did that,” but going back to, you know, Virginia. 

TJ: What’s amazing is that that’s also the theme of the movie. I mean, when you walk into the water, I said, “okay, this is going to be the last shot, it’s gotta be the last shot. You’re gonna go down and then come up.” But then the firefly that lights up...it’s like, “okay, you’re gonna keep going.” And that’s an amazing image. And it speaks for what the whole film is about and about what you’re talking about with the process of the kids, for all of them. They’re confident in what they are. 

SL: Yeah, they’re unapologetic. Like they are very much who they are, and no one is gonna stop that. No one is gonna tell them they can’t be, you know?

HE: Absolutely. So after getting into acting, do you have any interest in other aspects of filmmaking, like writing or directing? Have you dabbled in any of that yet?

SL: I was working with a friend of mine, and we were trying to, like, make something. The idea of directing, like once I’ve gotten in a little bit, been on set and been a part of getting things done, that’s a really cool feeling. And I write a lot of poetry, I want to do something with that. And it’s so weird to think that you literally can do anything, and your mind just starts spinning. Like I wish I knew how to actually get it all together ‘cause a lot of it’s just in here and I can’t put it out, but it’s cool to kind of figure all of that out...to see it, to visualize things. Yeah, who knows.

TJ: I should ask the inevitable question -- it’s directed by a woman and it’s about a woman, and there is a lot of risky behavior in it. Did you ever feel that kind of hovering sexual threat through the whole movie? Did you realize that’s what you were creating? I mean, when you get in the truck with that guy...it’s like, everybody’s going, “just don’t do it. Don’t do this, don’t go with that guy.” You keep saying to the movie, to you, “come on, something bad’s gonna happen.” 

SL: Yeah, there’s no way not to feel it. Even if I would see the side of that day and know that this is how it’s gonna end, I’d still have a feeling of, like, “are you sure?” But yeah, I liked that either it doesn’t go the way you think it’ll go.

TJ: And you knew it was not gonna go to a bad place, ‘cause you had the sides. But you still commit yourself

SL: Yeah, but still, because it’s a natural fear. It’s a natural thing, but it made me look at myself and be like, “Sasha, that person who seems scary can be sweet, and the one who just wants to help you out in a really weird way.” That’s kinda the point, and even with the other scenes, it’s like, “you think that you’re using me, but I have a purpose. I’m here to get this done. It’s like a transaction, so I can go do this for the person I care about,” you know? 

HE: It’s more of a mutual thing, more than being used.

SL: Yeah! And never once is she completely victimized.

HE: Yeah, and you never really know who’s going to benefit. But it ends up being both people. I feel like a lot of people, in today’s society, tend to see the worst in people and just assume that if you look at someone and think they’re up to no good…

TJ: One of the sweetest shots in the movie, when you’re all singing in the car, [Q.T.] turns around and she smiles at you. 

SL: That gets me every time, because those connections are so real and we really were just looking at each other, like…

HE: Like “we’re here, we’re doing this.” 

SL: Yeah! It was a really beautiful moment. I’m happy it’s in there. 

TJ: Yeah, that was a great choice. With the hundred hours of film, to take that one glance is really smart. She is so smart.

HE: We have to wrap it up, but I do have one last question. If you had never met Andrea, if you had never gotten involved in this project, what do you think you’d be doing right at this very moment? 

SL: This was meant to happen, so there is nothing else. It’s a blank wall, like this was all meant to happen. All the studying, all the things I’m interested in, how I am...it’s flowing through this. When I think, “what would you be doing at this second,” it’s so blank because everything happens for a reason. I wasn’t meant to have another option. I can’t see anything else. 

​Some of my favorite movies are adapted from critically acclaimed novels. No Country for Old Men immediately springs to mind as the themes of greed and free will are unmistakably depicted on the big screen. Unfortunately, The Girl on the Train is one that doesn’t do the same. It feels overly melodramatic and doesn’t really have much to say. Rachel Watson (Emily Blunt) is a troubled commuter who spends most days fantasizing about the relationship of a mysterious couple, Scott and Megan, from the window of her train. That all changes when she catches a glimpse of something disturbing. Rachel fears the worst when Megan is reported to have gone missing and the authorities seem to be poking heads in the wrong places. Unable to trust her own recollection of events, Rachel takes matters into her own hands while the police suspect the divorced alcoholic may have already crossed a dangerous line.

Emily Blunt’s performance is really the only reason I would recommend The Girl on the Train. While I found Rachel to be logically inconsistent, there are genuine moments of brilliance brought to her through this interpretation. Rachel is quite unlikeable yet garners sympathy because she doesn’t know any better. The divorce with her ex-husband makes her question her self worth and sends her down a dark path of alcoholism. The story shifts around multiple characters and her perspective is noticeably the most skewed. The idea of an unreliable narrator always makes for an engaging mystery yet it doesn’t fully come together in an emotionally satisfying way. The reveal of the events that actually transpired during the “tunnel sequence” is going to make or break this movie for you. I felt the scene had a good payoff but was shot awkwardly and was longer than it needed to be. 

The film also suffers from issues with the pacing. The Girl on the Train has a runtime just under two hours but seems to drag on for an eternity. It takes too much time to get to the adrenaline heavy third act and loses a lot of steam along the way. The audience’s reactions to some of the heinous things that happen in that last half hour make for a fun movie-going experience as all hell breaks loose. I was also pleasantly surprised by the amount of humor in this grim tale. The majority of the jokes come from Rachel’s drinking problem which might seem like an easy target but are actually the biggest laughs of the movie. My favorite moment came from her interaction with a stranger who made an observation that really summed up her erratic behavior in one cleverly delivered exchange. 

This movie disappointed me because it came off as an amalgamation of several different films. If anything, it is trying so hard to be Gone Girl. The performances are fine though Emily Blunt easily stands head and shoulders above the rest. Her portrayal of this manic character is captivating and is the movie’s driving force. It’s a shame there isn’t anything particularly compelling about the storytelling. The movie has twists and turns but you’ll see them coming from a mile away. 

Grade: C

​I guess no edition of The Birth of a Nation can be without controversy. The original 1915 silent epic drama film is a “historical representation of the Civil War and Reconstruction Period, and is not meant to reflect on any race or people of today,” as said by director D.W. Griffith in the opening credits. Despite his modest disclaimer, Griffith’s film had devastating effects on race relations that are still present today.

The Birth of a Nation (1915) is three+ hours of racist propaganda that starts with the Civil War and ends with the Ku Klux Klan riding into the South to save the whites from black rule. Griffith’s vigorous report of the Civil War and Reconstruction has been debunked as totally inaccurate; Reconstruction was a disaster, Griffith uses stereotypes to show blacks committing heinous and absurd crimes so that the KKK could swoop in and save the day. But at the time, The Birth of a Nation (1915) was presented as completely accurate, and Griffith’s film is often attributed to reigniting America’s Civil War, one that black Americans still struggle with today.

Infuriated with white supremacists having a film that documents their origins with overt pride, Nate Parker directed, wrote, produced, and starred in his own film of the same title, but with a large twist: The Birth of a Nation (2016) is an origin story of the Black Lives Matter movement. This origin doesn’t begin with the death of Michael Brown in Ferguson or Trayvon Martin in South Florida, but with Nat Turner’s slave rebellion in Southampton County, Virginia in 1831. Nat Turner’s Rebellion involved rebel slaves killing about 65 people, and holds the record for the highest number of fatalities caused by any slave uprising in the Southern United States. The Rebellion inspired black freedom from white American chains, and slaves quickly learned that the only way out was to go down fighting.

The insurgence and faith shown in The Birth of a Nation (2016) is reminiscent of “social justice warriors” today, a term coined by journalists that emanates a negative connotation for these humans who simply want equal rights for all. #BlackLivesMatter and LGBTQA+ rallies and Women’s Rights movements all represent underrepresented groups taking a stand against the treatment they’ve been told to “get used to” for centuries, and their stances are just and deserved. Nat Turner was a preacher who communicated hope to slaves that they could power through their work with Jesus Christ at their side, and The Birth of a Nation’s best aspect is how deeply Christian it is. In scenes where Parker boasts verses from the Bible with unwavering fervor, Parker skillfully proves he knows how to thrill audiences with the same kind of passion Turner had for his slave brethren. 

Receiving rave reviews since it’s premiere, winning the Audience Award and Grand Jury Prize in the U.S. Dramatic Competition at the 2016 Sundance Film Festival, and subsequently sparking a bidding war for distribution rights that set a new Sundance record of $17.5 million, Nate Parker’s The Birth of a Nation (2016) had a bright future ahead. That was, until news reports uncovered the dirty truth behind director/writer/producer/actor Nate Parker and his co-writer Jean Celestin.

It is here where I’d like to let everyone know that I strongly do not support Nate Parker. I picked up the The Birth of a Nation (2016) screening weeks before reading the news, and kept my attendance to the screening as the responsibility of a film critic.

There’s no question or doubt about whether Parker’s controversial rape happened at this point; it happened, and the female victim took her life because of it. The timing of the controversy is odd, given that this seventeen-year-old case has received new light just weeks before Parker’s nationwide debut/the height of this black man’s career. But the evidence here is quite overwhelming, and alcohol is once again brought up as a horrible, fake “excuse,” and I find it extremely difficult to defend Parker. I don’t think the timing of the controversy makes a difference, and it’s even worse that Parker still refuses to apologize for the incident, claiming he’s a “family man with daughters” now (as if that makes a difference? As if that makes the past sexual abuse go away? As if that’s any kind of consolation for the victim’s family?). Roxane Gay of the New York Times said it perfectly: “Just as I cannot compartmentalize the various markers of my identity, I cannot value a movie, no matter how good or ‘important’ it might be, over the dignity of a woman whose story should be seen as just as important, a woman who is no longer alive to speak for herself, or benefit from any measure of justice. No amount of empathy could make that possible.”

So as I review The Birth of a Nation (2016) to the best of my abilities, I urge you all to consider Gay’s quote, and that the age-old “Can you separate the art from the artist?” question will never have a clean, simple answer. Meaningful art will endure regardless of how people feel about the person who made it. The best we can do is draw our lines in the sand about what classifies someone as a “terrible person,” hold to our convictions, and go from there.

The Birth of a Nation (2016) works a stellar concept but plays too much with audience sadism; it’s exactly like if Ryan Coogler directed a Braveheart remake, from the religious iconography to the martyr climax. Parker shows slaves getting whipped, their teeth getting pulled out by their masters, the bloodied cotton stained by those whose black fingers got pricked every day for work that they have yet to get reparations for. The movie plays out clumsily, what with this being a heavy-loaded debut for Parker as a writer/actor/director/producer and the message he’s trying to spread being equally cumbersome, and it makes sense since Parker isn’t really there in the director’s chair to focus his aesthetic decisions.

Though The Birth of a Nation (2016) has no issue with it’s confidence, it’s not the same unflinching yet tactful work done by Steve McQueen in 12 Years a Slave. Where McQueen focused on showing slavery as an abhorrent part of our past and forced audiences to face that fact with uneasy restraint, Parker’s whole aim seems to be to scrape as much white guilt from his audience as possible with aforementioned sadism. It’s manipulation reminded me of 2014’s Selma, where director Ava Duvernay too often gave in to predictable and drawn-out violence scenes instead of really utilizing David Oyelowo’s stellar performance and dissecting MLK’s personality and character with more depth. Selma is really good, but it’s hardly memorable two years later, which is a shame for how relevant its topics and themes continue to be, and the same can be said of The Birth of a Nation (2016).

Parker’s poor treatment of female characters is also worth noting, as almost all of them are there to serve Parker’s character. Once Parker’s character’s wife gets raped by white slavemasters in a pivotal scene, she’s given about two additional minutes of screentime, and the essential and scary idea of how specifically black women were treated back in the day is used simply as a plot-device for Parker’s character to move forward rather than an important character trait for his wife.

​And I realized in this scene that this is what my duty as a film critic is. As a movie consumer, I feel no urgency to support Nate Parker with a paid ticket. But as a critic for NUFEC and beyond, it’s my duty to report on the intersection of culture and politics, to see if a movie like The Birth of a Nation (2016) lives up to the Sundance hype it received, and to report on what Parker has to say about sexual violence and power via how it’s depicted in the film. I didn’t have to face the moral dilemma audiences will have to when The Birth of a Nation (2016) is wide-released, but I can only hope my discourse is able to help navigate through the discomfort.

Grade: C

Bleecker Street, the distribution company behind Denial, could not have chosen a more appropriate time to release this movie. Between the assorted world and political events which have occurred over the course of the year, and the controversy surrounding one of the other films being released today, a movie about hate speech and truth feels incredibly topical right about now, particularly when it dramatizes real events as this film does. 
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Denial is the story of Deborah Lipstadt (portrayed by Rachel Weisz), a historian with a specialization in the Holocaust. She was famous for refusing to debate with Holocaust deniers whether or not, well, the Holocaust happened. While giving a lecture on the subject in 1994, Lipstadt was confronted by English historian and noted Holocaust denier named David Irving (played by Timothy Spall), who tried to bait her into a debate. She refused to fall into his trap, but Irving wasn’t done with her. Two years later, Irving sued Lipstadt in English court for libel, claiming she damaged his reputation as a ‘legitimate historian’ by labeling him a Holocaust denier in one of her books. Because of the peculiarities of English law, the burden of proof in a libel case rests with the defendant, meaning that Lipstadt and her legal term essentially have to prove that the Holocaust did in fact occurr. 

Like most movies focused around legal cases, Denial is not really about the trial between Lipstadt and Irving. Rather, it is a movie about truth, and the people who try to squelch truth. The movie is a powerful examination of how the truth must constantly be defended against those with hatred in their hearts. Considering the current political climate, I feel this is a topic which we need to reexamine. The film’s main strength is in the power of this battle, both in general and in the specifics of Lipstadt’s case. In particular, a fact-finding mission undertaken by her and her team to Auschwitz (filmed on location) lends the film an incredible emotional punch. 

In addition, the film also explores the tension between what is the moral action to take and what is the proper action to take. During the trial, Lipstadt constantly pushes to call on Holocaust survivors as witnesses, feeling that it is wrong to put the event on trial and not to hear from those who lived through it. However, her legal advisers fight her on this, saying that it would in fact likely damage their case since survivors’ memories are invariably imperfect, opening up space for Irving to cast doubt on their testimony. 

Weisz skillfully plays the impassioned Lipstadt, a woman who will do anything to ensure that the truth will prevail. Spalding plays Irving nearly as well, a character who is charming enough that you’d probably enjoy an afternoon tea with him but who still nurses a burning racial hatred. The two of them play very well off each other, creating an excellent antagonistic chemistry. Unfortunately, despite its clear emotional impact, the script of the film doesn’t quite live up to their acting talent. The movie focuses too much on facts and details of the legal battle, and doesn’t give enough time to character interactions and more emotional scenes. Not to say the movie is unemotional- far from it. But it could have benefitted from a little rebalancing in favor of certain aspects and scenes over others. 

Normally, Denial would probably be regarded as simply a decent drama film. However, because of current events and the contemporary political climate, it is granted a power it would not otherwise have. Our society needs to have a serious discussion regarding truth, falsehood, and hate speech. I don’t know the best way to have that conversation, but Denial is not the worst way it could start.

Grade: B