An office building built by iconic L.A. architect Paul Williams has come up for lease on the Sunset Strip. Known for years as the Berman/Kohner Building and now dubbed The House on Sunset, the three-story Deco Moderne-style building was constructed in 1936 by Williams, who was the first Black member of the American Institute of Architects and who created homes or completed major renovations for such stars as Barbara Stanwyck, Frank Sinatra, Tyrone Power, and Desi Arnaz and Lucille Ball.
Over the last few years, the mixed-use building at 9169 Sunset Blvd. has been completely renovated by its owner, Reagan Silber,...
Over the last few years, the mixed-use building at 9169 Sunset Blvd. has been completely renovated by its owner, Reagan Silber,...
- 5/11/2021
- The Hollywood Reporter - Film + TV
An office building built by iconic L.A. architect Paul Williams has come up for lease on the Sunset Strip. Known for years as the Berman/Kohner Building and now dubbed The House on Sunset, the three-story Deco Moderne-style building was constructed in 1936 by Williams, who was the first Black member of the American Institute of Architects and who created homes or completed major renovations for such stars as Barbara Stanwyck, Frank Sinatra, Tyrone Power, and Desi Arnaz and Lucille Ball.
Over the last few years, the mixed-use building at 9169 Sunset Blvd. has been completely renovated by its owner, Reagan Silber,...
Over the last few years, the mixed-use building at 9169 Sunset Blvd. has been completely renovated by its owner, Reagan Silber,...
- 5/11/2021
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
Venue: Tribeca Film Festival (Plum Pictures) NEW YORK -- One can't help wondering if the agonies surrounding teenage sexual awakening will ever cease to mesmerize filmmakers.
The latest addition to the genre, "Bart Got a Room", got a rapturous response at the Tribeca Film Festival -- mainly from the director's extended family and friends who packed the premiere screening. That response probably will not be duplicated out in the real world, but "Bart" has enough laughs to snare a distributor and decent-sized audiences.
The premise could hardly be simpler. Time is running out, and Danny Stein (Steven Kaplan) still does not have a date for the prom. Danny is reluctant to invite his fallback date, his best friend Camille (Alia Shawkat), but most of his other prospects evaporate as the big night approaches. Danny is even forced to solicit the help of his divorced parents (William H. Macy, Cheryl Hines), though neither of them has much stored wisdom with regard to romantic relationships.
This familiar melange trots out adolescent sex jokes along with dysfunctional family jokes, and some of them are even funny, though the tone established by first-time writer-director Brian Hecker is much too broad.
The young actors help keep the movie afloat. Kaplan has innate charm, and Shawkat conveys just the right mixture of gawkiness and nascent self-assurance. Although it's a stretch to cast Macy and Hines as neurotic Jewish parents, they both score some belly laughs, and the supporting cast is deft. Jennifer Tilly has a brief but hilarious cameo as one of Macy's Internet dates.
Hecker makes good use of the south Florida locations, and the song selection -- including many Big Band favorites -- is winning. Hecker has said that the film was inspired by his own adolescent experiences, and while he is not the first filmmaker to mine his own teen crises for comedy, he would be well advised to move a little further afield if he wants to sustain a career.
CAST: Steven Kaplan, William H. Macy, Cheryl Hines, Alia Shawkat. SCREENWRITER-DIRECTOR: Brian Hecker. EXECUTIVE PRODUCERS: Pamela Hirsch, Stephen Benedek, Ed Hart, Bruce Lunsford, Reagan Silber, Dina Burke, Mario Fallone, Michael Lafetra, Randy Simon.
No MPAA rating, 80 minutes.
The latest addition to the genre, "Bart Got a Room", got a rapturous response at the Tribeca Film Festival -- mainly from the director's extended family and friends who packed the premiere screening. That response probably will not be duplicated out in the real world, but "Bart" has enough laughs to snare a distributor and decent-sized audiences.
The premise could hardly be simpler. Time is running out, and Danny Stein (Steven Kaplan) still does not have a date for the prom. Danny is reluctant to invite his fallback date, his best friend Camille (Alia Shawkat), but most of his other prospects evaporate as the big night approaches. Danny is even forced to solicit the help of his divorced parents (William H. Macy, Cheryl Hines), though neither of them has much stored wisdom with regard to romantic relationships.
This familiar melange trots out adolescent sex jokes along with dysfunctional family jokes, and some of them are even funny, though the tone established by first-time writer-director Brian Hecker is much too broad.
The young actors help keep the movie afloat. Kaplan has innate charm, and Shawkat conveys just the right mixture of gawkiness and nascent self-assurance. Although it's a stretch to cast Macy and Hines as neurotic Jewish parents, they both score some belly laughs, and the supporting cast is deft. Jennifer Tilly has a brief but hilarious cameo as one of Macy's Internet dates.
Hecker makes good use of the south Florida locations, and the song selection -- including many Big Band favorites -- is winning. Hecker has said that the film was inspired by his own adolescent experiences, and while he is not the first filmmaker to mine his own teen crises for comedy, he would be well advised to move a little further afield if he wants to sustain a career.
CAST: Steven Kaplan, William H. Macy, Cheryl Hines, Alia Shawkat. SCREENWRITER-DIRECTOR: Brian Hecker. EXECUTIVE PRODUCERS: Pamela Hirsch, Stephen Benedek, Ed Hart, Bruce Lunsford, Reagan Silber, Dina Burke, Mario Fallone, Michael Lafetra, Randy Simon.
No MPAA rating, 80 minutes.
- 4/29/2008
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
This review was written for the festival screening of "Grace Is Gone".Sundance Film Festival
PARK CITY -- "Grace Is Gone" is not a dishonest film for you sense the fledgling filmmaker's sincere desire to deal with grief, the natural outcome of war. But the grief in writer-director James C. Strouse's "Grace" is so heavily manufactured that everything rings hollow. In John Cusack, Strouse has one of the screen's more versatile leading men. Yet Cusack seems strangely remote in a surprisingly one-note performance that requires the audience to supply the emotions.
From the sounds of sniffles in the Eccles Theater here, many will do just that. Much of these feelings owes to the highly manipulative use of two very young actors who play Cusack's adolescent daughters. The eldest, Shelan O'Keefe, is the best thing about the movie. But the younger one, Grace Bednarczyk, is Strouse's go-to person when he needs a quick emotional jolt.
Sensing a hot property, the Weinstein Co. snapped up this picture over the weekend. As an antidote to the Bush administration's determination to keep images of grief over Iraq out of the media, the film may work at the boxoffice as a political statement. In theory though, shouldn't this movie be about any war and any family's loss? The marketing campaign may have to be as manipulative as the movie itself if the distributor is going to convince adult audiences they need a good weep.
Instead of creating an air of normalcy before news of the tragedy breaks, Strouse allows the film to open with a sense of melancholy, loss and anger. One can rationalize this approach, but the film never undergoes a dramatic tonal shift to reflect the impact of unbearable news.
Stanley Phillips' (Cusack) sullenness while his wife is deployed to Iraq, you later learn, is due to the fact the spouses are U.S. Army through and through but Stanley was forced out of the service due to bad eyesight. He fakes good cheer as manager of a large Midwestern housing supply store, but at home he is often silent and overly stern with his kids, Heidi (O'Keefe), 12, and Dawn (Bednarczyk), 8.
Then an Army officer and chaplain knock on the door one morning to inform him that Sgt. Grace Anne Phillips has been killed in Iraq. Stanley goes into shock, which doesn't look all that different from his demeanor the night before. That afternoon, he gathers the family in the living room to break the news -- only he can't. He seeks a delaying tactic by suggesting a dinner out. Heidi points out it is only 4 o'clock.
The remainder of the movie is one delaying tactic after another. Dad suggests an impromptu driving trip to a theme park in Florida. En route, he makes an impromptu visit to his mom's home for an encounter with his unemployed anti-war brother (Alessandro Nivola). A stop at a motel is interrupted by an impromptu middle-of-the-night departure.
All of these "impromptu" incidents are meant to resonate with the sense of loss that such a death brings. Most have a symbolic purpose as well, such as getting the girls' ears pieced at such an early age -- i.e., the premature loss of childhood. Yet these incidents are as blatant as they are bland. The filmmaker's scheme is writ so large on the screen as to provoke embarrassment rather than grief.
The mind starts to wander to little irritating details. When the girls climb back and forth between the front and back seats of the family SUV, you wonder what kind of responsible father would allow his children not to wear seatbelts. The most egregious devise has Stanley constantly calling the home answering machine to hear his wife's voice.
When the movie finally must resolve the dad's prolonged dilemma, half way through the pivotal scene Strouse allows Max Richter's sappy music to drown out the dialogue. The button-pushing music is accompanied by a washed-out look in Jean-Louis Bompoint's cinematography that is apparently meant to give the film true grit. Like all of these strategies, these only underscore the film's lack of true depth.
GRACE IS GONE
The Weinstein Co.
Plum Pictures and New Crime Productions in association with Hart/Lunsford Pictures
Credits:
Writer/director: James C. Strouse
Producers: John Cusack, Grace Loh, Galt Niederhoffer, Daniela Taplin Lundberg, Celine Rattray
Executive producers: Paul Bernstein, Reagan Silber, Jai Stefan, Todd Traina
Director of photography: Jean-Louis Bompoint
Production designer: Susan Block
Music: Max Richter
Costume designer: Ha Nguyen
Editor: Joe Klotz
Cast:
Stanley Phillips: John Cusack
Heidi: Shelan O'Keefe
Dawn: Gracie Bednarczyk
John: Alessandro Nivola
Running time -- 92 minutes
No MPAA rating...
PARK CITY -- "Grace Is Gone" is not a dishonest film for you sense the fledgling filmmaker's sincere desire to deal with grief, the natural outcome of war. But the grief in writer-director James C. Strouse's "Grace" is so heavily manufactured that everything rings hollow. In John Cusack, Strouse has one of the screen's more versatile leading men. Yet Cusack seems strangely remote in a surprisingly one-note performance that requires the audience to supply the emotions.
From the sounds of sniffles in the Eccles Theater here, many will do just that. Much of these feelings owes to the highly manipulative use of two very young actors who play Cusack's adolescent daughters. The eldest, Shelan O'Keefe, is the best thing about the movie. But the younger one, Grace Bednarczyk, is Strouse's go-to person when he needs a quick emotional jolt.
Sensing a hot property, the Weinstein Co. snapped up this picture over the weekend. As an antidote to the Bush administration's determination to keep images of grief over Iraq out of the media, the film may work at the boxoffice as a political statement. In theory though, shouldn't this movie be about any war and any family's loss? The marketing campaign may have to be as manipulative as the movie itself if the distributor is going to convince adult audiences they need a good weep.
Instead of creating an air of normalcy before news of the tragedy breaks, Strouse allows the film to open with a sense of melancholy, loss and anger. One can rationalize this approach, but the film never undergoes a dramatic tonal shift to reflect the impact of unbearable news.
Stanley Phillips' (Cusack) sullenness while his wife is deployed to Iraq, you later learn, is due to the fact the spouses are U.S. Army through and through but Stanley was forced out of the service due to bad eyesight. He fakes good cheer as manager of a large Midwestern housing supply store, but at home he is often silent and overly stern with his kids, Heidi (O'Keefe), 12, and Dawn (Bednarczyk), 8.
Then an Army officer and chaplain knock on the door one morning to inform him that Sgt. Grace Anne Phillips has been killed in Iraq. Stanley goes into shock, which doesn't look all that different from his demeanor the night before. That afternoon, he gathers the family in the living room to break the news -- only he can't. He seeks a delaying tactic by suggesting a dinner out. Heidi points out it is only 4 o'clock.
The remainder of the movie is one delaying tactic after another. Dad suggests an impromptu driving trip to a theme park in Florida. En route, he makes an impromptu visit to his mom's home for an encounter with his unemployed anti-war brother (Alessandro Nivola). A stop at a motel is interrupted by an impromptu middle-of-the-night departure.
All of these "impromptu" incidents are meant to resonate with the sense of loss that such a death brings. Most have a symbolic purpose as well, such as getting the girls' ears pieced at such an early age -- i.e., the premature loss of childhood. Yet these incidents are as blatant as they are bland. The filmmaker's scheme is writ so large on the screen as to provoke embarrassment rather than grief.
The mind starts to wander to little irritating details. When the girls climb back and forth between the front and back seats of the family SUV, you wonder what kind of responsible father would allow his children not to wear seatbelts. The most egregious devise has Stanley constantly calling the home answering machine to hear his wife's voice.
When the movie finally must resolve the dad's prolonged dilemma, half way through the pivotal scene Strouse allows Max Richter's sappy music to drown out the dialogue. The button-pushing music is accompanied by a washed-out look in Jean-Louis Bompoint's cinematography that is apparently meant to give the film true grit. Like all of these strategies, these only underscore the film's lack of true depth.
GRACE IS GONE
The Weinstein Co.
Plum Pictures and New Crime Productions in association with Hart/Lunsford Pictures
Credits:
Writer/director: James C. Strouse
Producers: John Cusack, Grace Loh, Galt Niederhoffer, Daniela Taplin Lundberg, Celine Rattray
Executive producers: Paul Bernstein, Reagan Silber, Jai Stefan, Todd Traina
Director of photography: Jean-Louis Bompoint
Production designer: Susan Block
Music: Max Richter
Costume designer: Ha Nguyen
Editor: Joe Klotz
Cast:
Stanley Phillips: John Cusack
Heidi: Shelan O'Keefe
Dawn: Gracie Bednarczyk
John: Alessandro Nivola
Running time -- 92 minutes
No MPAA rating...
- 1/23/2007
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
PARK CITY -- "Grace Is Gone" is not a dishonest film for you sense the fledgling filmmaker's sincere desire to deal with grief, the natural outcome of war. But the grief in writer-director James C. Strouse's "Grace" is so heavily manufactured that everything rings hollow. In John Cusack, Strouse has one of the screen's more versatile leading men. Yet Cusack seems strangely remote in a surprisingly one-note performance that requires the audience to supply the emotions.
From the sounds of sniffles in the Eccles Theater here, many will do just that. Much of these feelings owes to the highly manipulative use of two very young actors who play Cusack's adolescent daughters. The eldest, Shelan O'Keefe, is the best thing about the movie. But the younger one, Grace Bednarczyk, is Strouse's go-to person when he needs a quick emotional jolt.
Sensing a hot property, the Weinstein Co. snapped up this picture over the weekend. As an antidote to the Bush administration's determination to keep images of grief over Iraq out of the media, the film may work at the boxoffice as a political statement. In theory though, shouldn't this movie be about any war and any family's loss? The marketing campaign may have to be as manipulative as the movie itself if the distributor is going to convince adult audiences they need a good weep.
Instead of creating an air of normalcy before news of the tragedy breaks, Strouse allows the film to open with a sense of melancholy, loss and anger. One can rationalize this approach, but the film never undergoes a dramatic tonal shift to reflect the impact of unbearable news.
Stanley Phillips' (Cusack) sullenness while his wife is deployed to Iraq, you later learn, is due to the fact the spouses are U.S. Army through and through but Stanley was forced out of the service due to bad eyesight. He fakes good cheer as manager of a large Midwestern housing supply store, but at home he is often silent and overly stern with his kids, Heidi (O'Keefe), 12, and Dawn (Bednarczyk), 8.
Then an Army officer and chaplain knock on the door one morning to inform him that Sgt. Grace Anne Phillips has been killed in Iraq. Stanley goes into shock, which doesn't look all that different from his demeanor the night before. That afternoon, he gathers the family in the living room to break the news -- only he can't. He seeks a delaying tactic by suggesting a dinner out. Heidi points out it is only 4 o'clock.
The remainder of the movie is one delaying tactic after another. Dad suggests an impromptu driving trip to a theme park in Florida. En route, he makes an impromptu visit to his mom's home for an encounter with his unemployed anti-war brother (Alessandro Nivola). A stop at a motel is interrupted by an impromptu middle-of-the-night departure.
All of these "impromptu" incidents are meant to resonate with the sense of loss that such a death brings. Most have a symbolic purpose as well, such as getting the girls' ears pieced at such an early age -- i.e., the premature loss of childhood. Yet these incidents are as blatant as they are bland. The filmmaker's scheme is writ so large on the screen as to provoke embarrassment rather than grief.
The mind starts to wander to little irritating details. When the girls climb back and forth between the front and back seats of the family SUV, you wonder what kind of responsible father would allow his children not to wear seatbelts. The most egregious devise has Stanley constantly calling the home answering machine to hear his wife's voice.
When the movie finally must resolve the dad's prolonged dilemma, half way through the pivotal scene Strouse allows Max Richter's sappy music to drown out the dialogue. The button-pushing music is accompanied by a washed-out look in Jean-Louis Bompoint's cinematography that is apparently meant to give the film true grit. Like all of these strategies, these only underscore the film's lack of true depth.
GRACE IS GONE
The Weinstein Co.
Plum Pictures and New Crime Productions in association with Hart/Lunsford Pictures
Credits:
Writer/director: James C. Strouse
Producers: John Cusack, Grace Loh, Galt Niederhoffer, Daniela Taplin Lundberg, Celine Rattray
Executive producers: Paul Bernstein, Reagan Silber, Jai Stefan, Todd Traina
Director of photography: Jean-Louis Bompoint
Production designer: Susan Block
Music: Max Richter
Costume designer: Ha Nguyen
Editor: Joe Klotz
Cast:
Stanley Phillips: John Cusack
Heidi: Shelan O'Keefe
Dawn: Gracie Bednarczyk
John: Alessandro Nivola
Running time -- 92 minutes
No MPAA rating...
From the sounds of sniffles in the Eccles Theater here, many will do just that. Much of these feelings owes to the highly manipulative use of two very young actors who play Cusack's adolescent daughters. The eldest, Shelan O'Keefe, is the best thing about the movie. But the younger one, Grace Bednarczyk, is Strouse's go-to person when he needs a quick emotional jolt.
Sensing a hot property, the Weinstein Co. snapped up this picture over the weekend. As an antidote to the Bush administration's determination to keep images of grief over Iraq out of the media, the film may work at the boxoffice as a political statement. In theory though, shouldn't this movie be about any war and any family's loss? The marketing campaign may have to be as manipulative as the movie itself if the distributor is going to convince adult audiences they need a good weep.
Instead of creating an air of normalcy before news of the tragedy breaks, Strouse allows the film to open with a sense of melancholy, loss and anger. One can rationalize this approach, but the film never undergoes a dramatic tonal shift to reflect the impact of unbearable news.
Stanley Phillips' (Cusack) sullenness while his wife is deployed to Iraq, you later learn, is due to the fact the spouses are U.S. Army through and through but Stanley was forced out of the service due to bad eyesight. He fakes good cheer as manager of a large Midwestern housing supply store, but at home he is often silent and overly stern with his kids, Heidi (O'Keefe), 12, and Dawn (Bednarczyk), 8.
Then an Army officer and chaplain knock on the door one morning to inform him that Sgt. Grace Anne Phillips has been killed in Iraq. Stanley goes into shock, which doesn't look all that different from his demeanor the night before. That afternoon, he gathers the family in the living room to break the news -- only he can't. He seeks a delaying tactic by suggesting a dinner out. Heidi points out it is only 4 o'clock.
The remainder of the movie is one delaying tactic after another. Dad suggests an impromptu driving trip to a theme park in Florida. En route, he makes an impromptu visit to his mom's home for an encounter with his unemployed anti-war brother (Alessandro Nivola). A stop at a motel is interrupted by an impromptu middle-of-the-night departure.
All of these "impromptu" incidents are meant to resonate with the sense of loss that such a death brings. Most have a symbolic purpose as well, such as getting the girls' ears pieced at such an early age -- i.e., the premature loss of childhood. Yet these incidents are as blatant as they are bland. The filmmaker's scheme is writ so large on the screen as to provoke embarrassment rather than grief.
The mind starts to wander to little irritating details. When the girls climb back and forth between the front and back seats of the family SUV, you wonder what kind of responsible father would allow his children not to wear seatbelts. The most egregious devise has Stanley constantly calling the home answering machine to hear his wife's voice.
When the movie finally must resolve the dad's prolonged dilemma, half way through the pivotal scene Strouse allows Max Richter's sappy music to drown out the dialogue. The button-pushing music is accompanied by a washed-out look in Jean-Louis Bompoint's cinematography that is apparently meant to give the film true grit. Like all of these strategies, these only underscore the film's lack of true depth.
GRACE IS GONE
The Weinstein Co.
Plum Pictures and New Crime Productions in association with Hart/Lunsford Pictures
Credits:
Writer/director: James C. Strouse
Producers: John Cusack, Grace Loh, Galt Niederhoffer, Daniela Taplin Lundberg, Celine Rattray
Executive producers: Paul Bernstein, Reagan Silber, Jai Stefan, Todd Traina
Director of photography: Jean-Louis Bompoint
Production designer: Susan Block
Music: Max Richter
Costume designer: Ha Nguyen
Editor: Joe Klotz
Cast:
Stanley Phillips: John Cusack
Heidi: Shelan O'Keefe
Dawn: Gracie Bednarczyk
John: Alessandro Nivola
Running time -- 92 minutes
No MPAA rating...
- 1/23/2007
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
PARK CITY -- The land of Goshen, namely the barren burg in Indiana, is the grim setting for this tale of despair and renewal. In these biblical terms, it's the story of the prodigal son as Jim, an apathetic 27-year-old, trudges home to dwell with his parents.
Etched in subdued hues and featuring a terrific indie cast of Casey Affleck, Liv Tyler, Mary Kay Place and Seymour Cassel, Lonesome Jim may find most hospitable company as a cable offering, as well as a DVD possibility for the indie connoisseur.
Director Steve Buscemi's hand is alternately edgy and mushy as Lonesome Jim meanders from the darkest recesses of the spirit to an atonal, feel-good finale. Indie fans who usually associate Buscemi's acting with a creepy cynicism will be mystified by the film's uplifting, studio-ish resolution. Jim, however, might be most noteworthy for the finely nuanced scripting of writer James C. Strouse, who kindles a resonant spark from the bleakest of settings and circumstance. In the end, Buscemi seemingly pushes the film's aesthetics, especially the strummy upbeat music, beyond the story's succinct philosophical duality.
Set in the gray of the post-Christmas holidays, Goshen is a netherworld that looks like neither winter or spring. Similarly, Jim's family is devoid of vitality or distinction. They are a sorry, if somewhat well-off lot: Dad (Cassel) owns a ladder-making factory, while Mom (Place) busies herself selling snacks to workers and doting on her two sons, including the newly returned Jim (Affleck) and ever-present Tim (Kevin Corrigan). All are weary, and none are happy; in fact, Tim has repeatedly tried to kill himself behind the wheel. Even by Midwestern standards, they are laconic and uncommunicative.
Permeating this flat family tract is the overall philosophical question: What is the point of going on with lives so drab? Aspiring writer Jim papers his walls with mugs of the most celebrated of the distressed writers -- Platt, Hemingway, Beckett, et al. No one connects, and Mom's incessant chirpiness and neediness only alienates them further. In this world, we never expect to see the spring.
Under Buscemi's overall smart direction, the acting is terrific. Affleck brings credible fiber to a weak-willed loser, while Tyler is warm as a small-town nurse with no hopes. Veteran indie players Place and Cassel are terrific as a husband and wife who ignore and alienate one another. Place is particularly sympathetic as a woman who tries too hard to find love and goodness within her sad-sack family. As a skull-collecting druggie, Mark Boone Junior is a blast of manic energy and evil.
Technical credits are apt and accomplished. Cinematographer Phil Parmet's stark compositions and pallid hues clue us to the characters' inner emptiness, while Chuck Voelter's Midwestern gothic production design is a deadening blend of kitsch and emptiness.
LONESOME JIM
Plum Pictures
Producers: Galt Niederhoffer, Celine Rattray, Daniela Taplin Lundberg, Jake Abraham, Gary Winick, Steve Buscemi
Director: Steve Buscemi
Screenwriter: James C. Strouse
Executive producers: Jonathan Sehring, Caroline Kaplan, John Sloss, Reagan Silber, Anna Waterhouse
Co-produce: Derrick Tseng
Associate producers: Saxon Eldridge, Emily Gardiner, Mandy Tagger
Director of photography: Phil Parmet
Editor: Plummy Tucker
Productionj designer: Chuck Voelter
Costume designer: Victoria Farrell
Casting directors: Sheila Jaffe, Georgianne Walken
Cast:
Jim: Casey Affleck
Anika: Liv Tyler
Sally: Mary Kay Place
Don: Seymour Cassel
Tim: Kevin Corrigan
Ben: Jack Rovello
Rachel: Rachel Strouse
Sarah: Sarah Strouse
Evil: Mark Boone Junior
Running time -- 87 minutes...
Etched in subdued hues and featuring a terrific indie cast of Casey Affleck, Liv Tyler, Mary Kay Place and Seymour Cassel, Lonesome Jim may find most hospitable company as a cable offering, as well as a DVD possibility for the indie connoisseur.
Director Steve Buscemi's hand is alternately edgy and mushy as Lonesome Jim meanders from the darkest recesses of the spirit to an atonal, feel-good finale. Indie fans who usually associate Buscemi's acting with a creepy cynicism will be mystified by the film's uplifting, studio-ish resolution. Jim, however, might be most noteworthy for the finely nuanced scripting of writer James C. Strouse, who kindles a resonant spark from the bleakest of settings and circumstance. In the end, Buscemi seemingly pushes the film's aesthetics, especially the strummy upbeat music, beyond the story's succinct philosophical duality.
Set in the gray of the post-Christmas holidays, Goshen is a netherworld that looks like neither winter or spring. Similarly, Jim's family is devoid of vitality or distinction. They are a sorry, if somewhat well-off lot: Dad (Cassel) owns a ladder-making factory, while Mom (Place) busies herself selling snacks to workers and doting on her two sons, including the newly returned Jim (Affleck) and ever-present Tim (Kevin Corrigan). All are weary, and none are happy; in fact, Tim has repeatedly tried to kill himself behind the wheel. Even by Midwestern standards, they are laconic and uncommunicative.
Permeating this flat family tract is the overall philosophical question: What is the point of going on with lives so drab? Aspiring writer Jim papers his walls with mugs of the most celebrated of the distressed writers -- Platt, Hemingway, Beckett, et al. No one connects, and Mom's incessant chirpiness and neediness only alienates them further. In this world, we never expect to see the spring.
Under Buscemi's overall smart direction, the acting is terrific. Affleck brings credible fiber to a weak-willed loser, while Tyler is warm as a small-town nurse with no hopes. Veteran indie players Place and Cassel are terrific as a husband and wife who ignore and alienate one another. Place is particularly sympathetic as a woman who tries too hard to find love and goodness within her sad-sack family. As a skull-collecting druggie, Mark Boone Junior is a blast of manic energy and evil.
Technical credits are apt and accomplished. Cinematographer Phil Parmet's stark compositions and pallid hues clue us to the characters' inner emptiness, while Chuck Voelter's Midwestern gothic production design is a deadening blend of kitsch and emptiness.
LONESOME JIM
Plum Pictures
Producers: Galt Niederhoffer, Celine Rattray, Daniela Taplin Lundberg, Jake Abraham, Gary Winick, Steve Buscemi
Director: Steve Buscemi
Screenwriter: James C. Strouse
Executive producers: Jonathan Sehring, Caroline Kaplan, John Sloss, Reagan Silber, Anna Waterhouse
Co-produce: Derrick Tseng
Associate producers: Saxon Eldridge, Emily Gardiner, Mandy Tagger
Director of photography: Phil Parmet
Editor: Plummy Tucker
Productionj designer: Chuck Voelter
Costume designer: Victoria Farrell
Casting directors: Sheila Jaffe, Georgianne Walken
Cast:
Jim: Casey Affleck
Anika: Liv Tyler
Sally: Mary Kay Place
Don: Seymour Cassel
Tim: Kevin Corrigan
Ben: Jack Rovello
Rachel: Rachel Strouse
Sarah: Sarah Strouse
Evil: Mark Boone Junior
Running time -- 87 minutes...
- 1/25/2005
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
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