Rosie the Riveter meets Nora Ephron in Their Finest, where Gemma Arterton plays a wannabe secretary summoned to write the female dialogue in a British propaganda movie aimed at easing America into WW II. Of course, she discovers that she has a gift for screenwriting and a passion for it. As in Mad Men, there are plenty of snickers at the assumed sexism the of the era. The driven lead writer (Sam Clafton) is a contrast to her nogoodnik common law husband (Jack Huston).
Originally, the plot of the movie-within-the movie is set to be a more or less true (okay – less true) account of the Dunkirk seaborne rescue, but a hook for American audiences is required. So the filmmakers slap on a superfluous character to be played by a bonafide war hero (Jake Lacy): he’s a real hero, he’s American, he’s stunningly handsome with a gleaming smile, but he’s absolutely talentless.
One of the sound reasons to watch any movie, and this especially applies to Their Finest, is Bill Nighy. Here, he plays a vain actor sliding down the down slope of his career. Nighy, as always, is able to summon both hilarity and poignancy, from his character’s foibles and vulnerability.
I’ve always liked Gemma Arterton, and she’s good here, too. Arterton is an underappreciated actress, with winning roles in Gemma Bovary, Tamara Drewe and as the Bond Girl in Quantum of Solace.
Their Finest contains elements of the romance, comedy, historical and Girl Power genres. The romantic element might have worked had not Sam Clafton delivered such a one-note performance. Jack of some aspects and master of none, Their Finest is a harmless and appealing diversion.
The clever and fun action thriller Free Fire begins when Oscar-winning actress Brie Larson introduces both sides of an illegal gun transaction. It’s 1978, and the hoods, played by Armie Hammer, Cillian Murphy and a bunch of less recognizable faces, meetup in a long-abandoned factory. The deal, of course, goes bad, and they start shooting at each other. They are all pinned down, and all the action occurs in a confined space. Pretty quickly, everyone is wounded, and has to crawl, hobble, limp and hop around trying to take out the others.
The factory is a dark and gritty setting, and it’s not going to turn out well, but it’s too light-hearted to call this a neo-noir. These are boys (and a girl) playing with guns, and everybody is having a lot of fun. Indeed, Free Fall has the all-in-good-fun tone of The Dirty Dozen and reminds us of a Quentin Tarantino film with much crisper dialogue and less gore. Two of characters come to especially gruesome ends, but this is not a splatter-a-thon. And here’s a cinematic First – a tickle attack in the midst of a gunfight.
In another Taratinoesque touch, classic rock, especially Creedence Clearwater Revival, is put to great use on the soundtrack. But the insertion of a John Denver album into a cassette tape player is a hilarious high point.
Larson leads a set of appealing performances. Armie Hammer is especially memorable as a particularly suave and smug gun merchant (and wears the same stylish beard sported by The Movie Gourmet in 1978).
Written by director Ben Wheatley and his writing partner Amy Jump, Free Fire is pure Wheatley. Jump adapted his successful 2016 sci-fi High-Rise from the J.G. Ballard novel
Leaving the theater, The Wife asked me “Why did I enjoy that movie so much?”, and I replied “Because it didn’t try to be more than it was.” It tries to be a very witty shoot ’em up, and, as such, it’s very entertaining.
Charlie Hunnam in THE LOST CITY OF Z photo courtesy of SFFILM
In auteur James Gray’s sweeping turn of the 20th Century epic The Lost City of Z, a stiff-upper-lip type British military officer becomes the first European to probe into the deepest heart of unmapped Amazonia. Finding his way through the lush jungles, braving encounters with sometimes cannibalistic indigenous warriors, he becomes obsessed with finding the lost city of an ancient civilization. I know this sounds like Indiana Jones, but it’s based on the real life of Percy Fawcett as chronicled in the recent book Lost City of Z by David Grann.
The Lost City of Z opens tomorrow in Bay Area theaters. I saw The Lost City of Z at the San Francisco International Film Festival (SFFILMFestival) at a screening with director James Gray. I’ll be sharing some snippets from Gray’s Q & A on Sunday.
The Lost City of Z begins with an Edwardian stag hunt through the verdant Irish countryside, complete with horses spilling riders. This scene is gorgeous, but its point is to introduce the young British military officer Percy Fawcett (Charlie Hunnam) as a man of unusual resourcefulness, talent and, above all, drive. Despite his abilities, he has been chaffing at the unattractive assignments that have precluded his career advancement. In the snobby Edwardian military, he has been in disfavor because his dissolute father had stained the family name. One of Fawcett’s commanders says, “He’s been rather unfortunate in his choice of ancestors”.
That yearning to earn the recognition that he believes he merits – and to attain the accomplishments of a Great Man – is the core of this character-driven movie. Fawcett resists yet another assignment away from the career-making action, a mapping expedition designed to have a minor diplomatic payoff. But it takes him on a spectacular Amazon exploration that brings him celebrity – and backing for more high-profile expeditions. Fawcett was surfing the zeitgeist in the age of his contemporaries Roald Amundsen (South Pole), Robert Peary (North Pole) and Howard Carter (King Tut).
In that first expedition, Fawcett becomes convinced that he can find the magnificent city of a lost civilization deep in the Amazon, a city he calls Z (which is pronounced as the British “Zed”). The Lost City of Z takes us through two more Amazonian expeditions, sandwiched around Fawcett’s WW I service in the hellish Battle of the Somme.
That final expedition ends mysteriously – and not well.
No one knows for sure what happened to Fawcett. In The Lost City of Z, Gray leads us toward the most likely conclusion, the one embraced by Grann’s book. If you’re interested in the decades of speculation about Fawcett’s fate, there’s a good outline on Percy Fawcett’s Wikipedia page.
Fawcett comes with his own Victorian upper class prejudices, but he has the capacity to set those aside for a post-Darwin open-mindedness. Gray made it a point that the indigenous peoples in the movie are independent of Fawcett; Gray shows them living their lives in a world that Fawcett has found, not just advancing the plot points in Fawcett’s quest. Four real tribes – and their cultures – are shown in the film.
As Percy Fawcett, with his oft-manic obsession and fame-seeking that color his scientific curiosity and his old-fashioned Dudley Do-Right values, Charlie Hunnam gives a tremendous, perhaps carer breakthrough, performance. He’s been a promising actor in Sons of Anarchy and the overlooked thriller Deadfall) (and such a good actor that I never dreamed that he’s really British). Hunnam will next star as the title character in the King Arthur movie franchise.
Robert Pattinson is unexpectedly perfect as Fawcett’s travel buddy Henry Costin. With his Twilight dreaminess hidden behind a Smith Brothers beard, Pattinson projects a lean manliness. It’s probably his best performance.
Sienna Miller shines as Fawcett’s proto-feminist wife Nina. I first noticed Miller (and Daniel Craig) in the underrated neo-noir thriller 2004 Layer Cake. Now Miller is still only 35 years old and has delivered other fine recent performances in Foxcatcher, American Sniper and (in an especially delicious role) High-Rise.
Director James Gray (The Yard, Two Lovers, The Immigrant) is a favorite of cinephiles and of other filmmakers, but regular audiences don’t turn out for his movies. That may change with The Lost City of Z, a remarkably beautiful film that Gray shot, bucking the trend to digital, in 35 mm. The jungle scenes were filmed in a national park in Columbia. The cinemeatographer is the Oscar-nominated Darius Khondji. Khondji shot The Immigrant for Gray and has been the DP of choice for David Fincher (Se7en) Alan Parker (Evita), Michael Haneke (Amour), and Woody Allen (Midnight in Paris). Along with the stag hunt and the voyages up and down the jungle rivers, there is also a breathtakingly beautiful ballroom scene and a gaspingly surreal nighttime discovery of a rubber plantation’s opera house deep in the jungle.
There have been other Lost Expedition movies, most famously Werner Herzog’s Aquirre, the Wrath of God and Fitzcarraldo. The Lost City of Z shares an obsession, a quest and a mysterious tragic end with those films, but it stands apart with its exploration of the motivation of a real life character and the authenticity of Gray’s depiction of the indigenous people.
Movie studios used to make an entire genre of very fun movies from Gunga Din and The Four Feathers through Lawrence of Arabia and Zulu that featured white Europeans getting their thrills in exotic third world playgrounds. We often cringe at the racist premises and the treatment of “the natives” those movies today. Since the 1960s, the best examples of the genre, like Raiders of the Lost Ark, have had an ironic tinge. With The Lost City of Z, James Gray loses both the racism and the irony, and brings us brings a straight-ahead exploration tale.
The Lost City of Z revives the genre of the historical adventure epic, with all the spectacle of a swashbuckler, while braiding in modern sensitivities and a psychological portrait. This is a beautiful and thoughtful film.
[And here are some completely random tidbits. There’s a cameo by Spaghetti Western star Franco Nero. The closing credits recognize the “animal weath coordinator” and the “data wrangler”.]
In a predictable trudge through the Armenian Genocide, The Promise delivers nothing that we haven’t seen before. Oscar Isaac plays an impoverished Armenian from the Anatolian outback who dreams of becoming a doctor. To afford medical school in Constantinople, he uses the dowry available after his betrothal to a sweet and prominently-schnozzed local girl. For his studies, he moves alone to the big city, where he meets a cosmopolitan Armenian beauty (Charlotte Le Bon), who has been living in Paris with her boyfriend, an iconoclastic American journalist (Christian Bale). Just as sparks fly between Isaac and Le Bon, World War I erupts and the Turks persecute and then massacre Armenians, causing the two to flee separately for their lives. Isaac’s medical student finds himself hiding in his home village, married to his fiance. Le Bon’s sophisticate is on the run with Bale’s journalist as he covers the developments. Will the Armenian lovers meet again in Eastern Turkey, and will he stay true to his marital vows?
The talents of Isaac and Bale are wasted in this movie. Isaac’s character is so top-to-bottom decent and so buffeted by developments that are not his fault, there just isn’t much texture to portray. Similarly, Bale’s reporter, while purportedly an international man of mystery, is just a Jeff Bridgesey teddy bear of a guy at his core.
The Promise is not as bad as the epically bad epic The Ottoman Lieutenant, and has much higher superior production values and a moderately better screenplay. Both movies share the beginning of World War I and the Armenian Genocide, along with an American protestant mission in southeastern Turkey. As in The Ottoman Lieutenant, there’s an unintentional audience laugh – when Isaac’s mother intones “I told them you were dead”.
Rooney Mara, Michael Fassbender and Ryan Gosling in SONG TO SONG
After sitting through what seemed like three hours of the 129-minute movie Song to Song, I have identified why I am done with auteur Terence Malick – Malick has essentially become a visual-only filmmaker. But I think of cinema as a storytelling medium, and Malick, with all his eye candy, just can’t make me care about his story.
Ryan Gosling plays an Austin songwriter who is befriended and exploited by a twisted and extremely rich music kingpin (Michael Fassbender). Rooney Mara’s character (purportedly another songwriter) falls for them both, and also jumps in bed with Bond Girl Bérénice Malohe’s mystery woman. Natalie Portman plays a waitress who tragically marries Fassbender’s monstrous mogul. An out-of-towner (Cate Blanchett) breezes in to have a fling with Gosling’s songwriter. Besides Mara and Portman, Fassbender also works his way through a series of groupies and call girls (including the most pockmarked hooker in Texas).
The movie is filled with the goofy, playful things that people do when they are flirting and seducing and in the early flush of love. We also see (TMI?) that Malick is personally fascinated by a slow, teasing prelude to lovemaking, as ritualized as are the early stages of a bullfight, during which women wrap themselves in the curtains and get their stomachs caressed. I like watching these usually compelling actors, but I just don’t care about these characters. Unfortunately for her performance, Mara never seems the least bit musical or artistically inclined.
The only genuine moments in Song to Song come in scenes with the main characters’ concerned parents and two scenes with the starkly and heartbreakingly authentic singer-songwriter Pattie Smith.
There is, however, a lot of visual interest to be found in Texas and Mexico, and Malick makes the most of it: riverfront mansions, high-rise penthouses, beaches, cantinas, Hill Country vistas and backstage at the ACL festival. As usual, Malick is aided by the collaboration of the master cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki. No contemporary cinematographer can match Lubezki’s stunning body of work. His work with Malick includes the wondrous The New Land. And the three-time Oscar winner Lubezki also shot Alejandro Iñárritu’s Babel,Birdman and The Revenant and Alfonso Cuarón’s Children of Men and Gravity. Lubezki’s work here is remarkable, but I find myself infuriated at wastefulness of a Malick setup that results in 2 seconds in the film, however visually glorious.
There are also what have become unfortunate Malick signatures. Choral music by Handel always signals pretentiousness. And Song to Song contains a completely random montage of horror scenes from silent movies – it had me waiting for the reappearance of the dinosaurs from The Tree of Life.
And here’s a scene that I found paternalistic and offensive – I guarantee you that, if you get wasted and raucous in a Mexican cantina, the Mexicans will not embrace you as those really cool gringos that they have been waiting these many years to roughhouse with.
The absurdism of Luis Buñuel meets the social awkwardness of Seinfeld in Hong Sang-soo’s Koran comedy Yourself and Yours. I just saw Yourself and Yours (Dangsinjasingwa dangsinui geot) at the San Francisco International Film Festival (SFFILMFestival). In an Only-At-SFFILM moment, I (a Hong Sang-soo newbie) was surrounded in the audience by devoted Hong Sang-soo fans.
In Yourself and Yours, Minjung (Lee You-young) dumps her boyfriend (Kim Joo-hyuck) after he objects to her heavy drinking (“I’ve stopped drinking – now I only stop after five rounds”). Then another man thinks that he meets Minjung, but she claims that she is Minjung’s identical twin. We’re not so sure about that. And then she meets ANOTHER man, and her identity remains in question. Her original boyfriend is comically bereft, and he’s on the lookout for her, too.
One character says “You men are all pathetic”, and Minjung proves that point at every opportunity. In a deliberate homage to Buñuel’s That Obscure Object of Desire, Lee You-young plays the role of Minjung and her multiple doppelgängers (unless they are all really Minjung herself). There are plenty of LOL moments as Yourself and Yours winds its way full circle to a satisfyingly sly finale.
Charleigh Bailey and Seána Kerslake in A DATE FOR MAD MARY photo courtesy of SFFILM
The San Francisco International Film Festival (SFFILMFestival) features the Irish dramedy A Date for Mad Mary. Mary (Seána Kerslake) has just been released from incarceration and faces this challenge: she’s going to be the Maid of Honor at her childhood BFF’s wedding, and she needs a date for the nuptials. This apparently isn’t the first time that Mary’s been locked up for brawling because she quickly resorts to pounding other humans. This is a character flaw which is getting in the way of her, among other normal pursuits, finding a feller.
With this set-up, the audience is expecting a broad Dating-Gone-Wrong comedy, and there is a bit of that, but A Date for Mad Mary drills down to explore the character of Mary, somehow still frozen in her teenage pose. Mary has a major chip on her shoulder and escalates every human contact into an outburst of hostility. She just hasn’t matured into a woman who can navigate any social situation. The annoyingly controlling bride-to-be Char (Charleigh Bailey) has grown out of the teen Tough Girl pose, and has moved on the having a life with a job and a fiance. Mary, on the other hand, can’t keep a job or a guy or anything that will make her satisfied, self-proud or happy. Eventually, Mary meets a new friend Jess (Tara Lee) and wall-bangs her way down the corridor of self-discovery.
Tara Lee and Seána Kerslake in A DATE FOR MAD MARY photo courtesy of SFFILM
Seána Kerslake’s excellent performance is central to the success of the film, playing a character who is confused by her own lack of happiness. Unforgettably, Kerslake’s Mary kisses another character and is overwhelmed by an unexpected, giddy thrill – it’s a special moment. A Date for Mad Mary is the fifth feature since 2012 for up-and-comer Kerslake, who is also starring in an Irish television series.
A Date for Mad Mary is the first feature for director and co-writer Darren Thornton. A Date for Mad Mary will be screened again this weekend at the San Francisco International Film Festival.
Ariane Labed and Soko in THE STOPOVER photo courtesy of SFFILM
The San Francisco International Film Festival (SFFILMFestival) presents the topical French drama The Stopover, which explores the after-effects of combat in contemporary warfare. We also get a female lens on the acceptance of women in combat roles and on sexual assault in the military from the co-writer and co-directors, the sisters Delphine and Muriel Coulin.
The Stopover’s title refers to a French combat unit’s three-day stay in a luxurious Cypriot seaside resort. The unit, heading back to France after a tour in Afghanistan, is supposed to decompress at the resort. They are required to engage in group therapy, enhanced by virtual reality goggles. As with any group of gung-ho and mostly macho twenty-somethings, talk therapy is not their thing. But they sure need decompression, because their service included a terrifying engagement in which they lost three comrades.
This combat unit includes women, and The Stopover focuses on Aurore (Ariane Labed and Marine (Soko). The strong and purposeful Aurore has physically recovered from an emotionally (and literally) scarring experience in Afghanistan. The more impulsive Marine, on the other hand, is not a deep thinker, but has a serious chip on her shoulder.
Everyone in the unit wound very, very tightly. Some are fighting to keep psychotic outbursts from bubbling over. Plopping these guys amidst tourists and locals in such an absurdly and artificially tranquil setting creates a powder keg. From start to finish in The Stopover, we’re waiting for any and every character to snap or erupt.
Ariane Labed in THE STOPOVER photo courtesy of SFFILM
Labed is excellent as Ariane feels need to suppress her PTSD, to mask it with rowdy fun and, finally, to confront it. Labed won Best Actress at the Venice Film Festival for a completely different kind of movie in 2010, the absurdly goofy Attenberg, which I also watched at the San Francisco International Film Festival.
I just can’t take my eyes of Soko, who is a French pop music star. Here, as Marine, she has a feral fierceness. Soko is also a force of nature in the excellent period drama Augustine. She stars in another movie out this year that I’m looking forward to seeing, The Dancer. She brings a simmering intensity to the screen, in contrast to her offbeat, ironic pop music.
The rest of the cast is excellent, too, particularly Karim Leklou as a sergeant with an unresolved issue or two.
The Stopover plays the SFFILMFestival tonight and again this weekend. It’s also programmed in Film Society of Lincoln Center’s sometimes traveling Rendez-vous with French Cinema series. It’s an engrossing and powerful film.
Here’s an interview with San Francisco filmmaker Travis Mathews, the writer-director of Discreet. Mathews has also directed Do I Look Fat?, I Want Your Love, Interior. Leather Bar. and the In Their Room documentary series. The San Francisco International Film Festival (SFFILMFestival) is hosting the U.S. premiere of Mathews’ newest film Discreet, which debuted at the Berlinale.
The Movie Gourmet: SFFILM is giving your U.S. premiere the prime Saturday 9 PM slot at the Castro. Must be a good feeling.
Travis Mathews: Two of my earlier films have been screened at the Castro in the Frameline Festival, but not at the San Francisco International Film Festival. I can tell you that it’s pretty awesome. It’s my favorite theater in the world.
TMG: Where did you find Bob Swaffar, and just how tall is he? [Bob Swaffer plays John, the child sexual abuser, in Discreet.]
Travis Mathews: He’s really, really tall. 6′ 7″, I think. At least 6′ 5″. I found most of our cast at an open call in Austin – which is its own interesting experience. Bob is a gentle, wise man who makes pottery. I had already decided that his character would not speak.
TMG: Did you see a menace in Bob?
Travis Mathews: No. I knew that menace would be created by the editing and sound design, and that the menace would be projected (on Bob) by the audience. It’s like a Rorschach Test.
TMG: And where did you find Joy Cunningham? She’s great in a brief scene as Alex’ mom Sharon.
Travis Mathews: She’s a friend of mine, a lesbian married to a great woman with a couple of great kids. At the time (of shooting Discreet), they were renting out the house where Sharon lives (in the movie). Joy is a comedic actress. She had never done drama, but I knew that she’d be great. She and her wife Gretchen, they were invaluable when I was writing the film, giving me notes on the screenplay.
TMG: You’ve made a revenge film where the final act of violence is off-camera. It’s kind of anti-Peckinpah, with none of the customary splatter for the genre. What informed this choice?
Travis Mathews: In previous films, I’ve explored the opposite and showed more, especially raw emotion. This time I wanted to play with withholding instead of showing. That was part of the fun in making Discreet. We did a lot of test screenings and the audiences told me, “yeah, I already knew that” or “this wasn’t clear”. That helped with the editing choices of what to withhold.
Travis Mathews: I didn’t want to be so clear who was in the body (the body bag floating down the river) at the end. I have an idea, but it is elliptical. I don’t want to be “I don’t know – who did YOU think it was?”. But it (the ambiguity) strengthened the movie.
[Note: If the body isn’t the most obvious character, as I’d thought, then it’s got to be…Holy Toledo! This movie would be even darker than I’d recognized!]
TMG: Why did you have your characters carry out clandestine acts next to a freeway, when we would expect you to have set them out in the woods where no one could see?
Travis Mathews: I was in Texas for a long time on another film project. I was driving around the same van that Alex drives in Discreet. I became fascinated by the freeway structure in Texas. So many are built almost like roller coasters for reasons that seemed arbitrary. It’s a like a Texas show of strength: We have the tallest freeways! So I found it both absurd and fascinating. I wanted them to be a man-made monster in the background. A freeway is in the background of every setting except Joy/Sharon’s house. It made sense.
TMG: What’s the distribution plan for Discreet?
Travis Mathews: It’s being released (theatrically) in the UK and Ireland. We’re playing the festival circuit (here in the U.S.) as part of our strategy to get distribution. It’s a tough movie. I know that’s it’s not a commercial movie in several respects. I hope that people see it – it is a film that lingers, as it did with you.
TMG: What is your next project?
Travis Mathews: I will be a little coy here. I’m working on two projects. One is a remake of a 1970s film. The other is an original with horror elements. I want to do a horror movie, and Discreet is inching me toward the genre.
TMG: Will these be films that you both write and direct?
Travis Mathews: Yes.
TMG: One last question – and it’s about Interior. Leather Bar. Do you really believe, in your heart of hearts, that Friedkin had to cut an entire FORTY minutes of gay sex from Cruising?
Travis Mathews: Maybe not all gay sex, but forty minutes of what someone found too sexual, too violent or too something. Maybe 37 or 42, but about 40 minutes, yes.
On Sunday evening at 6 PM, Travis Mathews and author Karl Soehnlein will be speaking about art in the age of Trump, including Discreet, at Dog Eared Books, 489 Castro Street, San Francisco.
Bob Swaffar (left) and Jonny Mars in DISCREET photo courtesy of m-appeal World Sales
The San Francisco International Film Festival (SFFILMFestival) presents the U.S. premiere of the psychological drama Discreet tomorrow, April 8 – and it should be the indie highlight of the festival.
Within a revenge tale, writer-director Travis Mathews has braided threads of social criticism and political comment. Most of all, Discreet is a compelling portrait of one damaged, very unwell guy and a thoughtful exploration of the alienating aspects of the current American zeitgeist.
Discreet is centered on Alex (Jonny Mars), who has drifted back through his Texas hometown to find that his childhood sexual abuser has re-surfaced. Alex is untethered either to home or sanity. Away from home for a long time, Alex has been roaming the country, oddly stopping to shoot videos of freeway traffic. The most hateful alt-right talk radio plays incessantly from the radio of his van. And, in a creepy juxtaposition, he’s obsessed with a New Agey YouTube publisher (the comic Atsuko Okatsuka).
Alex sets out to find and confront his abuser (Bob Swaffer), and Discreet takes us on a moody and intense journey, filled with unexpected – and even flabbergasting – moments. Only the ultimate vengeance seems inevitable – and even that act is handled with surprising subtlety. The catharsis is intentionally understated, and there is none of the customary splatter.
Swaffer’s physicality, along with his character’s condition, makes him a monster unlike anything I’ve seen in a movie before – a unique blend of the bone-chilling and the vulnerable.
Discreet is only 80 minutes long; keeping it short was a great choice by Mathews, allowing the film to succeed with a deliberate, but never plodding, pace. We’re continually wondering what Alex is going to do next, and the editing by Mathews and Don Swaynos keeps the audience on alert. Cinematographer Drew Xanthopoulos makes effective use of the static long shot and gives Discreet a singular look. The idiosyncratic sound design, with its droning and its use of ambient noises, sets the mood. It’s an effective package – and an impressive calling card for Travis Mathews.
Bob Swaffar (left) and Jonny Mars in DISCREET photo courtesy of m-appeal World Sales
While he’s in town, Alex is on the lookout for secret – and sometimes very kinky – sex with other men. It’s a comment on the repression in Flyover American culture that drives gay sexual expression underground. And furtiveness can make anything seem seamy. Indeed, the movie’s title comes from the Craiglist euphemism for anonymous sexual hookups.
One critic referred to Discreet as “Travis Mathews’ latest queer experiment”. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it’s far too narrow a label. True, Discreet definitely comes from the point of view of a gay filmmaker, and it addresses the repression of gay sexual expression. But this is a film, with its broader focus on alienation, that is important for and accessible to every adult audience.
Mathews previously collaborated with James Franco on Interior. Leather Bar., which is nothing at all like Discreet. Interior. Leather Bar. is talky and centered on artistic process with a hint of sensationalism. Discreet more resembles an experimental film such as Upstream Color. Come to think of it, Discreet has more of the feel of a budget indie (and less languorous) version of Antonioni‘s The Passenger.
Jonny Mars is very effective as Alex, a character who is usually stone-faced, but whose intensity sometimes takes him completely off the rails. In her one speaking scene as Alex’s mom, Joy Cunningham’s stuttering affect gives us a glimpse into both her past parental unreliability and her current clinging to sobriety by her fingernails.
But the heart of Discreet is Alex and his unpredictable path. To what degree has Alex’s madness been formed by the childhood abuse? To what extent has he been deranged by absorbing random and unhealthy bits of American popular culture? Stylistically, Discreet is a near-masterpiece, and audiences that embrace the discomfort of the story will be rewarded with a satisfying, ever-surprising experience.
