Sunshine Cleaning (Christine Jeffs, 2009) - C+
An unbearably adorable little kid who talks to the heavens on a CB radio; the old man and his rotting shrimp; Mary Ann Rajskub as crazy blood lady; one-armed Clifton Collins Jr.; "I recommend the pecan pie"; not to mention the entire crime-scene-clean-up-as-therapy conceit: yep, it's a real quirk-o-rama up in this bitch. And it's maudlin, too, with the big thematically convenient revelation mucking shit up at the one-hour mark. But my love for Amy Adams conquers all, or nearly all: she perfectly nails the former-star-cheerleader-with-moxie-and-grit-but-low-self-esteem thing, and her insanely charismatic (yet, somehow, believably insecure) presence just about saves the film. A big step up for Christine Jeffs from the godawful Sylvia; moves at a good clip, with a screenplay that has a few big laughs and some nice subtleties in the earlier scenes (I particularly liked the way the movie lets us piece together the details of Adams' relationship with the Steve Zahn character). A little too immaculately cute for me, but certainly watchable.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Phoebe in Wonderland
Phoebe in Wonderland (Daniel Barnz, 2009) - B
Massively self-sabotaging: making all the kids but Fanning and Colletti little horrors, and all the adults but the parents and Patricia Clarkson clueless caricatures was a huge miscalculation, giving the movie a rigged feel; the fantasy sequences add nothing, as the movie itself tacitly acknowledges; Felicity Huffman's big "I'm mad" speech is laughably theatrical, a quixotic piece of Oscar bait. But Phoebe in Wonderland is so unique and valuable that I was willing to forgive a lot: this is a singular portrayal of mental illness, sympathetic and accessible, but also difficult, uncompromising and uncondescending. The screenplay, meticulously constructed to reveal Phoebe's condition gradually, is partially to thank. But the bulk of the credit must go to Elle Fanning, who gives frankly the most astonishing child performance I've ever seen. I have no idea how it's even possible to get a performance like that out of a nine year-old girl. I was in tears through much of the movie, for all its flaws, so make of that what you will.
Massively self-sabotaging: making all the kids but Fanning and Colletti little horrors, and all the adults but the parents and Patricia Clarkson clueless caricatures was a huge miscalculation, giving the movie a rigged feel; the fantasy sequences add nothing, as the movie itself tacitly acknowledges; Felicity Huffman's big "I'm mad" speech is laughably theatrical, a quixotic piece of Oscar bait. But Phoebe in Wonderland is so unique and valuable that I was willing to forgive a lot: this is a singular portrayal of mental illness, sympathetic and accessible, but also difficult, uncompromising and uncondescending. The screenplay, meticulously constructed to reveal Phoebe's condition gradually, is partially to thank. But the bulk of the credit must go to Elle Fanning, who gives frankly the most astonishing child performance I've ever seen. I have no idea how it's even possible to get a performance like that out of a nine year-old girl. I was in tears through much of the movie, for all its flaws, so make of that what you will.
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