Showing posts with label Caitriona Balfe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Caitriona Balfe. Show all posts

Friday, April 11, 2025

The Amateur: Could be more professional

The Amateur (2025) • View trailer
3.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for strong action violence and some profanity
Available via: Movie theaters
By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 4.13.25

Robert Littell’s long reign as an espionage author got an early start with this 1981 novel, which jumped to the big screen that same year, as a tidy little thriller starring John Savage, Christopher Plummer and Marthe Keller.

 

Despite his best efforts, Charlie (Rami Malek) simply lacks the killer instinct required of
a good CIA field agent, as his handler, Henderson (Laurence Fishburne) points out.

Despite — or because of — its fidelity to Littell’s book, most critics pooh-poohed a plot they found laughably contrived. (Hey, I liked it anyway.)

Perhaps bearing that in mind, scripters Ken Nolan and Gary Spinelli have retained only the bare bones of Littell’s plot for this remake, while modernizing events with all sorts of computer modeling, surveillance technology and satellite spycraft that didn’t exist in the early 1980s.

 

Ironically, the result becomes just as unlikely and increasingly contrived, as the solid first act moves into the second and third. That said, director James Hawes and editor Jonathan Amos move events at a briskly enjoyable pace, and everything is anchored by Rami Malek’s richly nuanced and persuasively credible performance.

 

Charlie Heller (Malek) is a brilliant but deeply shy and introverted CIA decoder, who works in a basement office at the agency’s Langley headquarters. He has three passions in life: his work, his beloved wife Sarah (Rachel Brosnahan) and solving puzzles.

 

Sarah is his polar opposite: vivacious and outgoing ... but gently understanding and tolerant of Charlie’s preference for isolation. She therefore isn’t surprised when he declines to join her for a trip to London, to attend a conference.

 

His world collapses, upon arriving for work the next day. His Langley superiors — Moore (Holt McCallany), head of the covert Special Activities Center; and Alice O’Brien (Julianne Nicholson) CIA director — inform him that Sarah has been killed by terrorists who invaded the London conference.

 

(Even at this moment, when compassion seems called for, McCallany plays his role so aggressively, that he may as well have “Doing And Concealing Bad Stuff” tattooed on his forehead.)

 

Standing in O’Brien’s office, Charlie wilts like a stalk of old celery. Malek’s performance is shattering: the epitome of loss, grief, shock and a level of rage that has no outlet.

 

Back at his desk, as the next few days pass, Charlie employs his computer skills to identify and compile detailed dossiers of the four terrorists involved. But when he presents this information to Moore and his close colleague Caleb (Danny Sapani) — head of the CIA’s Nuclear Proliferation branch — Charlie is stunned to discover that a) they already know; and b) apparently aren’t doing anything about it.

 

Moore threatens Charlie with insubordination, if he doesn’t drop the matter.

 

Wrong move.

 

By coincidence — and thanks to a mysterious, heavily encrypted online source dubbed Inquiline — Charlie has gained possession of damning information about unsanctioned covert CIA operations. Armed with some of these documents, he blackmails Moore and Caleb into sending him to “agent training school,” so that he can travel overseas, track down the terrorists, and execute them himself (!).

 

As an added threat, Charlie promises that — if anything should happen to him, in the meanwhile — copies of said documents will be distributed to major news outlets.

 

He’s sent for a crash course in field work, under the tutelage of Henderson (Laurence Fishburne), a retired CIA colonel who coldly assesses Charlie’s lack of physical prowess. Even so, Charlie proves quite adept at some tasks — improvising tactical explosives, as one example — but utterly hopeless at even holding a gun, let alone shooting one.

 

One of Fishburne’s many fine moments concerns the latter, when Henderson challenges Charlie to point a loaded gun at him ... and, despite teeth-gritting effort, he can’t.

 

“Some people are killers,” Henderson finally says, gently. “You aren’t.”

 

Charlie eventually heads to London and then — following his own leads — Paris, where he knows how to find the first terrorist.

 

And we’re off to the races.

 

Nolan and Spinelli concoct clever — if improbably elaborate — ways for Charlie to proceed with his mission. On the other hand, he doggedly proceeds through unfamiliar locales — eventually including Marseille and Istanbul — like a seasoned tourist, which he obviously isn’t, and always is able to determine exactly where to go.

 

Setbacks abound, and it’s frankly amazing that no matter how many times Charlie is forced to abandon his equipment — and everything else — he’s always able to buy a fresh set-up, and continues to have money for lodging, meals and so forth.

 

As if the terrorists aren’t bad enough, he’s soon being followed and attacked from all sides, including the KGB (!). At one point, finally desperate, he reaches out to Inquiline ... about which, I’ll say no more.

 

The film is saved by the fact that all characters are portrayed convincingly by each member of the large ensemble cast. Malek’s delicately shaded performance contains multitudes; he’s thoroughly engaging in every scene. Charlie veers from stubborn determination to lingering grief, and Malek’s expression is particularly heartbreaking when Charlie keeps “seeing” Sarah at unexpected moments.

 

“You should go home,” he’s told, at one point.

 

“I can’t,” he replies, forlornly. “She’s not there.”

 

Henderson’s transformation from compassionate instructor to implacable pursuer is jarring — but not unexpected — and Fishburne makes the guy quite lethal. Nicholson is terrific as O’Brien, unimpressed by Moore’s glib assurances, and clearly underestimated by him. Jon Bernthal is appropriately mysterious as a field agent dubbed The Bear, who owes a debt to Charlie; Michael Stuhlbarg is chilling as Schiller, the guy who led the London terrorist attack.

 

The ubiquitous Adrian Martinez is a welcome ray of sunshine as Carlos, one of Charlie’s CIA techie colleagues, and it’s a shame his role wasn’t expanded.

 

In a droll nod to this film’s 1981 predecessor, Marthe Keller pops up briefly, as a florist.

 

Hawes and cinematographer Martin Ruhe make ample use of the many international backdrops, none more charming than the fishing community setting that dominates Charlie’s time in Marseille.

 

Although this obviously is a check-your-brains-at-the-door thrill ride, Malek and his co-stars make it more compelling than the plot deserves.


And, sometimes, that’s enough. 

Friday, March 4, 2022

Belfast: Deeply moving snapshot of a nation in crisis

Belfast (2021) • View trailer
Five stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for violence and profanity
Available via: Movie theaters, Amazon Prime and other streaming services

Armed with an impressive seven Academy Award nominations, Kenneth Branagh’s riveting, semi-autobiographical drama has just become available via streaming services.

 

This is must-see cinema.

 

Buddy (Jude Hill, his back to camera) listens quietly while his mother (Caitriona Balfe),
grandmother (Judi Dench) and grandfather (CiarĂ¡n Hinds) explain what has been
happening in their neighborhood.


It isn’t easy to layer an era of chaos, tumult and danger with warmth and humor, and Branagh — who wrote the script, as well as directing — has done so sublimely. He wisely followed John Boorman’s lead, who in 1987’s Hope and Glory similarly depicted the horrors he experienced as a child in London during World War II.

In this case, Branagh’s quasi-surrogate self is 9-year-old Buddy, played with beguiling innocence and impishness by Jude Hill, in a stunning feature film debut. Because this story is viewed through Buddy’s experiences and imagination, Hill is in practically every scene, and he capably carries the film; he’s beyond adorable. 

 

Branagh extracts an amazingly accomplished and nuanced performance from this young lad. It’s a crime that he didn’t secure a Best Actor nod to accompany all the other well-earned nominations.

 

Cinematographer Haris Zambarloukos opens with an imposing, full-color overview of today’s Belfast. We then slide into a crowded, working-class pocket neighborhood; the image turns monochromatic as we’re whisked back to the summer of 1969. Children play merrily in the sun-dappled streets; adults chat amiably while walking to and from the little shops nestled in between row houses.

 

Everybody knows everybody else. When Buddy’s Ma (Caitriona Balfe) calls him in for tea, the message is passed along via children and adults until it finally reaches him. 

 

Then, suddenly, anarchy: An angry mob rounds a street corner like a swarm of maddened bees, laying waste to homes, shop windows, vehicles and anything else in their path … with a focus on Catholic families. It’s the opening salvo of the five-day political and sectarian violence that quickly spread through Ireland and led to the 30-year conflict dubbed “The Troubles.”

 

Buddy, terrified, stands frozen like a deer caught in headlights. We see the disconnect in his gaze; the boy cannot begin to comprehend the savage reality of what’s happening.

 

In that instant, his life — and that of his family, and everybody else — is altered. Forever. The calm of sociable neighborliness has been shattered, never to return; Catholic and Protestant families, once close friends, now eye each other warily. (Buddy and his family are Protestants.)

 

In the aftermath, streets are barricaded; watchers are posted 24/7. Buddy’s universe — this tiny portion of Northern Belfast — has become an artificial island.

 

Friday, November 15, 2019

Ford V Ferrari: Turbo-charged!

Ford V Ferrari (2019) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity and occasional profanity

By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 11.15.19

Christian Bale never ceases to amaze.

His performances are “all in” to a degree most actors couldn’t even contemplate, let alone accomplish. Nor is it merely the surface gimmick of his extreme weight losses and gains; Bale never appears to be “acting.” He simply becomesthat person, whether an industrial worker fearing for his sanity (The Machinist); a former boxer turned crack addict (The Fighter); or an ex-neurologist-turned-stock market savant suffering from Asperger syndrome (The Big Short).

Having made yet another series of adjustments, driver/engineer Ken Miles (Christian Bale,
left) prepares to test-drive their high-performance vehicle again, while designer
Carroll Shelby (Matt Damon) waits apprehensively.
Or, in this case, feisty English sports car racing engineer and driver Ken Miles. Five minutes into this film, Bale ceases to exist. He is this guy. The mannerisms, posture, short temper and pugnacious attitude are wholly unlike any other character he has played, during a career that began when he was 12. 

That said, Bale’s Ken Miles is by no means defined solely by his truculence; the scenes he shares with Caitriona Balfe and Noah Jupe — also excellent, as Miles’ wife Mollie and their young son Peter — depict a kinder, gentler and loving man wholly at odds with the automotive genius who suffers fools not at all, let alone gladly.

(For the record, Bale dropped 70 pounds to play Miles, after having plumped up for Dick Cheney, in Vice.)

The notion that Bale has yet to win a Best Actor Oscar defies comprehension.

His sublime performance is far from the only high point in Ford V Ferrari, director James Mangold’s consistently absorbing, fascinating and suspenseful depiction of the American automobile company’s hare-brained, mid-1960s decision to challenge Italy’s boutique car-maker in the annual 24-hour Le Mans endurance race. Despite a running time of 152 minutes, Mangold’s film is never less than compelling … and the racing sequences are breathtaking. 

Cinematographer Phedon Papamichael and a trio of editors — Andrew Buckland, Michael McCusker and Dirk Westervelt — deserve considerable applause. Sound designer Jay Wilkinson deserves an Academy Award.

Kudos, as well, to scripters Jez Butterworth, John-Henry Butterworth and Jason Keller, for bravely tackling the corporate back-story and hijinks that led to this automotive clash. The narrative execution is never less than enthralling, to the same degree that 1976’s All the President’s Men turned plodding investigative journalism into a gripping suspense thriller.

Nor do the writers fill time with the soapy relationship melodrama relied upon by 1969’s Winning and 1971’s Le Mans. This film is cars, cars and nothing but cars … and that’s not a bad thing. If you’re not a racing fan prior to seeing Ford V Ferrari, you certainly will be 152 minutes later.

Friday, May 13, 2016

Money Monster: A beastly good time

Money Monster (2016) • View trailer 
4.5 stars. Rated R, for brief sexual content, violence and frequent profanity

By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 5.13.16

Between this new film, The Wolf of Wall Street, Margin Call and The Big Short, one gets the impression that people have become deeply concerned about corporate malfeasance and Wall Street shenanigans.

Gee, I can’t imagine why.

The calm before the storm: Unaware that this day is about to become anything but average,
TV financial advice guru Lee Gates (George Clooney) and his producer, Patty Fenn (Julia
Roberts), discuss the talking points for their upcoming live broadcast.
Director Jodie Foster’s Money Monster may not be as imaginatively brilliant as last year’s The Big Short, but it’s just as entertaining and pointedly audacious. Scripters Alan DiFiore, Jim Kouf and Jamie Linden set up a hair-trigger premise and then develop it with an unlikely — but quite successful — blend of suspenseful twists and scathing humor.

Along the way, they also skewer the 1 percent who’ve absolutely, completely — and without awareness or shame — abandoned any sense of comradeship with the rest of us ordinary mooks.

This is only Foster’s fourth big-screen feature as director, after having cut her teeth with 1991’s poignant Little Man Tate; she obviously chooses her projects carefully. “Money Monster” proves that the double Oscar-winning actress has matured into an equally capable shot-caller. This is the sort of endeavor that could have collapsed any number of times, in less skilled hands; she unerringly navigates the ship past all dangerous shoals.

With thoughtful, infuriating, hilarious and even unexpectedly poignant results.

George Clooney stars as high-profile financial TV guru Lee Gates, who has built a viewership on the strength of sideshow antics more befitting the local news clowns who used to dole out weather predictions while dressed in funny outfits. We get an extended view of Gates’ smirky, hyperactive — and insultingly patronizing — shtick as he begins one of his financial analysis/advice segments on an average day, under the much calmer guidance of longtime producer Patty Fenn (Julia Roberts).

It ain’t pretty.

It’s also a not very exaggerated jab at what a serious topic such as money management has become, in our cynical, bread-and-circuses era of cable/satellite infotainment. Any semblance of capably researched public service has been abandoned — goodness, that would be boring — in favor of keeping the gullible masses distracted. And hey: If Gates misstates, exaggerates or even lies today, he won’t even think about amending or retracting tomorrow; he’ll simply proceed with an all-new set of encouraging prevarications and half-truths.

Just like dozens of shrill, malicious and defiantly deceitful radio show hosts.