MONEY MONSTER (2016)

Rated: R

STARS: George Clooney, Jack O'Connell, Julia Roberts
DIRECTOR: Jodie Foster
GENRE: Thriller/Dark Comedy

Money Monster is that extra dark (85% cacao) type of comedy--meaning that the darker it is, the less it will register with the average moviegoer as being comedy, though there were a couple of moments when the whole audience was a-titter at the showing I attended. Packaged as a taut thriller, Money Monster gets right to it--no song and dance. Except...uh...for the actual song and dance number at the beginning.

George Clooney is Lee Gates, a TV financial analyst--sort of the Apollo Creed of the breed--who hams it up while dispensing stock tips, one of which bombs (delayed pun coming up) badly when the stock of a company he has touted tanks to the tune of an 800 million dollar loss. Naturally, some people are going to be distressed about that--like those who took Gates' advice to heart and invested heavily--one of whom is young Kyle Budwell (Jack O'Connell), who sneaks onto the set of the show and takes Gates hostage, threatening to shoot the star if the program doesn't continue live under Budwell's "direction."  Kyle lost all of his savings by following Gates' advice on a "hot tip" stock, and now he's demanding some answers. It's edge-of-your-seat tension from there on out, as control booth director Patty Fenn (Julia Roberts) tries to make all the right moves to keep loose cannon Kyle--who has strapped a bomb vest onto Gates--from making the whole joint go KABOOM!

Bernie Sanders fans should appreciate the theme here--that Wall Street is evil and corrupt--but deeper than that, in my interpretation, is an indictment of capitalism itself, which stokes the unmitigated greed of those who can't see the green of the forest for the long green of the dollar signs dazzling their eyes (and that should resonate with Michael Moore fans as well).

The only trouble is that Money Monster, which starts with a reasonably believable scenario, gets more and more wildly implausible as it speeds along, leading to your typically neat and tidy Hollywood ending. But it did keep me awake throughout, which is more than I can say for some of the films I've seen recently. (If something like this were to ever happen live on CNN, I could see them cutting in at the most critical moments to do their regular commercial breaks--the ultimate irony--and I think they should have put that in the movie!). 

What I've noticed about George Clooney's performances, over a succession of his films that I've seen, is that he sometimes seems to be somewhere else, delivering his lines in what strikes me as a perfunctory manner, but then all of a sudden he kicks it into gear and he's right on the money, which is the case here.

Kudos to Julia Roberts for signing onto a project where she's in a supporting role. I found her believable as Patty Fenn, whose personal issues with Gates will come to the fore in the middle of the action.

But Money Monster belongs to young Jack O'Connell as Kyle, whose angst and sweat-dripping desperation I totally bought into. Now and then you're having a bad day...enough gets to be enough...and you take a TV host hostage at gunpoint and get the whole city in a panicked uproar. It could happen. He should have consulted with me before acting hastily,  as I could have imparted the first rule of prudent investment strategy: DIVERSIFY!

Grade: B

JILL'S TAKE

I agree with Tim about young Jack O'Connell's acting. Brilliant. When Money Monster focuses on him and his inept take-over of a TV station, the result is riveting. I only wish I could say the same about the first half of the film. Setting up Clooney's egotistical character (a Jim Kramer type with hair) took far too long. And as thrillers go, that's a definite no-no. I also felt much of the stock trader lingo and financial explanations were unnecessary and slowed down the pace.

That being said, I enjoyed the movie. A lot. And the cameo performance of Emily Meade as the very pregnant, very pissed off wife of the gunman, is dark humor at its best. When asked to go on camera to plead with her husband not to do anything foolish, she lambastes him instead for investing their life's savings so foolishly. Unexpected and delightfully quirky. 

I noticed at the beginning of the film the credits read: A Film By Jodie Foster. I so admire actors, especially women, who dare to take a different creative path. Some of her other directorial credits include 2 episodes of Orange Is The New Black and 1 episode of House of Cards. Way to go, Jodie! Way to go!

Grade: B (sorry to be such a copycat, Tim)

THE DESCENDANTS (2011)

Rated: R

Stars: George Clooney, Shallene Woodley, Amara Miller, Nick Krause, Beau Bridges, Judy Greer, Matthew Lillard

Director: Alexander Payne

Genre: Drama/Comedy

There's a scene in The Descendants that pays homage (perhaps subconsciously) to Last Tango In Paris. It's where Honolulu attorney Matt King (George Clooney) is at the hospital bedside of his wife, Elizabeth--who lies in an irreversible coma as the result of a boating accident--giving her an earful of his pent-up emotions about everything from her infidelity, to leaving him in the lurch to raise their two problematic daughters by himself. I immediately flashed back to Brando's poignant, profanity-laced barrage unleashed upon the corpse of his cheating spouse, Rosa, in that classic film.

Anyway, it's quite tempting to 'ave a go at the old bird when she can't bite you back, apparently, which is just what Elizabeth's intractable teenage daughter, Alexandra, (Shallene Woodley) does as well. Even the wife of the guy she was screwing around with gets her licks in.

Yes... it's a drama. Yes... it's a comedy. And that's called a "dramedy" where I hail from, Mister. But one with a subtle touch, like the mixture of humor and pathos in everyday life.

Speaking of subtlety, that would be Clooney's performance for about the first half of the film. UNDERSTATED, I believe is the word. I wasn't sure if Matt King was supposed to be a guy who was just out of touch with his feelings, or if Clooney was mailing it in. Fortunately, our faith in George's acting ability is restored when the plot elements in The Descendants require him to get pissed off at friends who've been holding back the truth about his wife's shenanigans--then, with his young charges in tow, island hops over to Kauai to confront the erstwhile home wrecker, real-estate agent Brian Speer (Matthew Lillard). Ostensibly, Matt just want to inform Speer about his wife's dire predicament, but we know that he wants to get in the guy's face some too.

Speer ties into the subplot, as he stands to make a killing from the sale of 25,000 acres of pristine beach front property, previously handed down to King and his clan, of which Matt happens to be the sole trustee. A tangled web we weave.

All of it leads to Matt's eventual epiphany, about taking a stand in the face of overwhelming opposition. When it's all said and done, life goes on-- and The Descendants, gingerly groping its way along the darkened hallways of life, reminds us of that better than most.

Evaluations:

Beau Bridges shines as Matt's cousin, Hugh.

Patricia Hastie, as the comatose Elizabeth, gives a stiff performance.

Grade: B

THE IDES OF MARCH (2011)

Rated: R

Stars: George Clooney, Ryan Gosling, Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Paul Giamatti, Evan Rachel Wood, Marisa Tomei

Director: George Clooney

Genre: Drama/Political thriller

In The Ides of March, Stephen Myers (Ryan Gosling) is the young and talented press secretary to democratic presidential hopeful, Governor Mike Morris (George Clooney). The demo primary race has been narrowed down to two candidates, and whoever takes Ohio will be on the fast track to clinching the nomination.

Then, for Stephen, temptation appears, in the form of a young and provocative campaign intern named Molly (Evan Rachel Wood). And then, in the form of Tom Duffy, (Paul Giamatti) who runs Morris' opponent's campaign, and tries to get Stephen to jump ship and join the opposing side. Stephen proves susceptible to seduction--the literal kind that Molly provides--and the lure of being on what may be the winning side that Duffy is holding out like a carrot on a stick.

Things get more complicated for Stephen--and The Ides of March kicks into a new gear--when he learns a secret from Molly that could deal a fatal blow to Morris and his campaign, were it to become public knowledge. The once idealistic press secretary becomes locked in a struggle for his own future and personal power--amidst the machinations, manipulations, and skulduggery of national politics that we've all become too familiar with--whenever the dirty laundry of a John Edwards or a Rod Blagojevich is aired in public.

WHAT I LIKED:

• The fine acting from this accomplished cast--especially that of Philip Seymour Hoffman (as the Morris campaign manager) and Paul Giamatti.

• The dramatic music score from award winning composer Alexandre Desplat.

• Nobody gets shot. No cars get blown up. No skinny woman fighting half a dozen burly guys simultaneously and leaving them all splayed out on the floor. In other words, a film for those with an IQ above 75.

WHAT I WASN'T CRAZY ABOUT:

• The film moves at a snail's pace in the beginning. But when things pick up, it's worth it.

• The ending. It's rather abrupt. Like these sentences. Guess I just prefer. More resolution. But if you think. About it. It makes. A statement. Don't think. About it.

IN SUMMATION:

The Ides of March is a character study of one man's descent from the ideals he holds dear in the beginning, to the sacrificing of those ideals for personal and political gain. There is a profound cynicism here about our political system, and what it takes to get elected to high office. Unfortunately, for we the people, it rings true.

Grade: B +

THE AMERICAN (rated R)

Stars: George Clooney, Thekla Reuten, Paolo Bonacelli, Violante Placido, Johan Leysen

Director: Anton Corbijn

Genre: Thriller

Not your normal Hollywood fare, The American grabs hold of you with one of the most startling opening scenes you're ever likely to see. And then the movie becomes brooding and introspective, but we've been put on notice of the kind of thing that can--and will be expected--to happen again. We're just waiting to see who, how, what, when and where.

George Clooney is Jack, a hired assassin. We don't know who he's working for, other than the weathered dude (Johan Leysen) who gives him instructions over the phone. Other assassins are after him, trying to knock him off before he can knock them off--kinda like the old Mad Magazine's Spy Vs Spy. We don't know who they're working for either...CIA? KGB? Or just some murderous SOB? This uncertainty has the effect of bringing all events into the immediacy of the NOW--which is where, ideally, life should be lived anyway. Every small thing that happens is magnified in significance, and with all those shadowy folks out gunning for him, Jack is naturally a little paranoid. So just sitting down for a cup of coffee with someone has him second guessing himself--as well as the person he's with--his finger constantly poised upon the trigger.

After the opening incident, which occurs in the snowy white Swedish countryside, Jack is instructed to hole up in a small Italian village. There, he is to deliver a custom made weapon to a mysterious female hit woman named Mathilde (Thekla Reuten). We don't know who she'll be targeting, but it's going to make a big splash in the newspapers.

Jack is befriended by a local priest, Father Benedetto, (Paolo Bonacelli) who senses that the American is up to something, and talks to him about sin. But the hired gunman is a cold, hard customer...until he gets involved with a beautiful prostitute named Clara, (Violante Placido) who wants to have more than a business relationship with him. (After all--it IS George Clooney!) Jack discovers that his conscience--deeply buried--is still alive in there somewhere, and decides he wants to get out of the killing game and start a normal life with Clara. BUT--with the kind of karma he has incurred for himself, will it be too late?

The American has a traditional plot, but refreshingly so. You don't need a scorecard to follow it, like a lot of thrillers these days (Inception, for example) that leave you scratching your head, wondering if they made it so complicated because they wanted you to come back and pony up your money a second or third time, just to try to figure it out.

The scenery is pleasant to the eye--not the least of which is the oft-naked Violante Placido as Jack's love interest.

If you're the type of moviegoer who needs to have everything spelled out at the end with a neat little bow on top, you'll be displeased. But if you can take the larger view and grasp that The American is about "sin" on a universal scale--and that all those tidy little details would be superfluous, I think you'll come away satisfied.

And if you're the ruthless sort yourself--not an assassin, but a business person, let's say--who tries to screw your customers by running TV commercials with a lot of unreadable fine print at the bottom of the screen that contradicts everything that's coming out of your mouth--you may find yourself reassessing your skulduggery, and developing perhaps a tiny speck of conscience, after viewing this film.

GRADE: B+

TIMOTEO SEZ...

On the Oscar presentations:

George Clooney looked like the most humorless man in America Sunday night in an Academy Awards show that had an overall lackluster and dispirited feel to it. The camera repeatedly focused on Clooney sitting in the audience, as co-host Alec Baldwin mocked the actor's sourpuss expression. Baldwin seemed to be goofing on Clooney's film, The Men Who Stare At Goats, but Clooney appeared to be seriously pissed. George could have easily diffused the awkwardness if he'd given just one smile or made a silly face, but he preferred to look like a jerk. Hey George, could knowing that Jeff Bridges was going to win the Oscar be THAT much of a downer for someone who otherwise has everything?

Then there was the perennial lowlight of the broadcast, (for me) and that's when the actors are being interviewed beforehand and are asked, 'WHO are you wearing?" The women (and some of the men) rattle off some French or Italian designer's name that most viewers don't know from Pepe le Pew! Great way to connect with the average Joe and all those people out there who don't even have a JOB!

"Uh, WHO are you wearing, DAHLING?"

"Oh, I'm wearing TIGER WOODS...doesn't he look MAHVELOUS draped all over me?"

The highlight of the show, of course, was Jeff Bridges' joyous acceptance speech for his well deserved Best Actor Oscar.

UP IN THE AIR (R )

Up In The Air deals with nothing less than what sooner or later becomes the central issue in each of our lives--and that's commitment. And some peripheral issues, like the bad economy, and empathy--or lack thereof-- for one's fellow human beings.

Ryan Bingham (George Clooney) is hired out by one company to fire employees of other companies when their own bosses are too lily-livered to do it themselves. Nice job. It's an itinerant lifestyle, and we see a lot of Bingham breezing through airports with as much aplomb as one can do these days when one is subjected to everything short of a full body cavity search before boarding a plane. His life connections--like the brief encounters with the unfortunate working stiffs he leaves scattered in his wake like so much jetsam--are mostly superficial.

It's in this setting that Ryan meets his female counterpart, Alex, (Vera Farmiger--of the remarkable physique) who also racks up the frequent flyer miles, (and men along the way) and before you can say WE ARE NOW READY FOR BOARDING they're in the sack together beginning something of a free-spirited affair.

But there's turbulence ahead when Natalie, (Anna Kendrick) a young upstart in the company, comes up with a way to streamline the firing process. Hey, yeah...we'll do it by remote teleconference (as if the process weren't impersonal enough) and save all that mad dashing about the country! Ryan has some distinct feelings about this, which may have a little to do with not stripping people who've given seventeen years of loyal service to their company of ALL their dignity--but it has more to do with him becoming obsolete, as well as losing out on his fly-by-night trysts with Alex.

Kendrick is effective as the little corporate snot-nose you'd like to say to: "Hey kid, you're shoelace is untied!" Then when she looks down you shove her in the closet and lock the door. She plays a nice counterpoint to Clooney's character, the seasoned veteran who's out to show her a thing or two about the business. Farmiga's on-screen presence is a testament to the depth and breadth of sex-appeal a mature woman brings to the table.

Up In The Air circles around a bit aimlessly in the first half--until some genuine human warmth emerges--and it transforms into a film both mainstream and thinking audiences (note that I make a distinction) will dig. There's a sweet subplot around the impending wedding of Ryan's sister--an experience which serves to jolt him into an awareness that he may want something deeper out of life after all. When he actually wants something bad enough to go after it, the tipping point is reached, suggesting that no matter how far ANY of us may go to isolate ourselves, we're human and we'd be eating out of his/her hand if the right one came along. (And I do believe this.)

But if you're fond of resolute endings, Up In The Air may leave you somewhere in the clouds. Nevertheless, don't be surprised if multiple Oscar nominations are encountered along its flight path.

GRADE : A-