50 First Dates (2004)

Drew Barrymore and Adam Sandler in "50 First Dates,"
a tedious, unfunny romantic comedy.

The best scene in “50 First Dates” is really more surprising than funny. It takes place when Drew Barrymore’s character, an otherwise naïve and innocuous single girl, delivers an extended and merciless beating to Rob Schneider’s pot-smoking, half-blind drifter using a baseball bat. The irony is that the movie also features Adam Sandler, better known for being the angry, hostile, often violent man-child center of such dismal titles like “Billy Madison,” “Happy Gilmore” and “Anger Management.”

That Sandler remains on the sideline during such a moment of pugilism is telling. In the film, he plays Henry, a zoo veterinarian attempting to win over Lucy (Barrymore), an artist and painter left with some kind of short term memory condition after a car accident. They meet cute at a diner in Hawaii and Henry is sure that sparks have flown between them; but when he returns to woo Lucy again the next day, she can’t remember him.

And that sets the stage for this peculiar and tedious romantic comedy directed by Peter Segal. Undeterred by her diagnosis, Henry remains determined to stay in pursuit of this love interest, exercising various gimmicks—like a tape full of scenes of them together for her to watch each day—to help her remember him. In stark contrast to most of his other screen personas, this is the kinder, gentler Adam Sandler.

The problem is that the kinder, gentler Sandler still isn’t very interesting. For all of his success, he remains an actor with a very limited range of expression, annoyingly grimacing and mumbling his way through scenes when he’s not screaming or beating someone up. And Barrymore, though likable, is equally inconsequential as an actress. Reunited after “The Wedding Singer,” they seem to have that nice, easy chemistry of two people content with being little more than box office stars.

Along with the interminably unfunny Schneider, “50 First Dates” includes other actors—like Sean Astin as a buffoonish, steroid-infused narcissist—in the kind of dreary, dumb bit parts that signal desperation at the screenplay level rather than genuine inspiration. For Segal, who directed “Tommy Boy” and other similarly mindless comedies with former SNL stars, this is hardly a departure. You know a movie is in trouble when the character with the most engaging personality is a walrus.

Greenberg (2010)

Ben Stiller in Noah Baumbach's "Greenberg."

The funniest scene in “Greenberg” takes place when the title character, cynical and moody 40-year-old misanthrope Roger Greenberg (Ben Stiller), becomes angry at a motorist for not yielding the right of way as he crosses a street one day on foot in Los Angeles. Annoyed at such an egregious vehicular faux pas, Roger slaps the slow moving car as it passes. Sure, he starts running when it stops, but not before his semi-heroic gesture strikes a blow for the rights of pedestrians everywhere.

It’s the one moment in the film that Roger seems like a regular guy worth rooting for. The rest of the time in “Greenberg”—writer-director Noah Baumbach’s funny but prickly ode to irascibility and middle age disillusionment—he’s just kind of a jerk.

Having once moved from L.A. to New York and failing to make it as a musician, Roger finds himself back on the west coast, working marginally as a carpenter and house-sitting for his younger brother who is going away for a couple weeks as the film opens. Roger promises to build a dog house for the brother’s German shepherd.

While at the house, Roger meets his brother’s assistant, the sweet and amiable Florence (Greta Gerwig), who ambles by to look after the dog and sometimes fetches groceries. As they get to know each other, Florence is remarkably able to see the sadness and vulnerability that lies beyond Roger’s bitter exterior and the two become unlikely friends and even unlikelier sexual partners.

But can this good-hearted young soul possibly sweeten the sour, morose old curmudgeon? Luckily, “Greenberg” is far from the clichéd land of the typical romantic comedy, so don’t expect any of the usual redemptive mush. Baumbach’s film is a kind of subversive character study; it works even though sometimes Roger’s angry disillusionment gives way to mean-spiritedness.

Ben Stiller, in the kind of role that Bill Murray might play, is effective but doesn’t quite have Murray’s sarcastic wit or deadpan understatement. The real prize of “Greenberg” is probably Greta Gerwig, whose natural sweetness and likability keep the movie from spilling over into excessive, depressing levels of rancor.

A Thousand Times Good Night (2014)

Into the Danger Zone: Juliette Binoche plays a wartime
photojournalist in "A Thousand Times Good Night."

Ever wonder how people whose job involves taking pictures in close proximity of the immediate aftermath of crime scenes and other deadly catastrophes are able to compartmentalize the horror of their work—the grim, everyday awareness of a thin line between life and death—and still lead normal lives?

It isn't easy. At least that's the case when it comes to Rebecca, the steely-nerved protagonist of "A Thousand Times Good Night," director Erik Poppe’s somber, ruminative and compelling drama about a talented, brave but reckless wartime photojournalist whose repeated brushes with death have left those closest to her feeling strangely alienated and emotionally disconnected. Her family has grown weary of constantly fearing for her safety.

As the film opens, Rebecca (Juliette Binoche, in another brilliantly expressive, multi-layered performance) is in Kabul, Afghanistan, tasked with following a collection of would-be suicide bombers. She silently surveys ghastly events in progress as a group of women prepare for a suicide mission—one of them being fitted with IEDs—snapping pictures with her camera with a mix of detachment and shock. Unlike combat, the movie captures a rare glimpse of a sometimes overlooked aspect of war; the combination of humanity and savagery is gruesome and haunting.

Determined to get more pictures, Rebecca drifts too close to the danger zone and is injured in a violent explosion. She recovers but returns home to find her family every bit as wounded emotionally as she had been physically. Her husband (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau) and two daughters, teenaged Steph (Lauryn Canny) and younger sister Lisa (Adrianna Cramer Curtis), suffer with the knowledge that even though Rebecca lived this time, one day she will likely not be so lucky.

Rebecca vows to quit and devote herself to family, but the passion to continue working remains strong. In one of the best sequences, Rebecca takes an assignment photographing a refugee camp in Kenya; Steph, doing research for a school project, comes along. But when things suddenly get dangerous, Rebecca sends Steph to safety and stays behind in harm’s way to snap shots. A trip that begins as a bonding experience for mother and daughter—helping them to understand more about one another and perhaps heal some of the fissures in their relationship—ends with the sound of gunfire followed by isolation and fear.

Near the end, Rebecca struggles to explain to Steph the reasons why she is heading back to Kabul. “I have to finish what I’ve started,” she says. “When will it be finished?” Steph replies through tears. The devastating long pause that follows suggests it will never be finished—that as long as there are people, there will always be a war somewhere.

Life Itself (2014)

Film critic Roger Ebert in his element in "Life Itself."

Roger Ebert’s career actually began with a remarkable moment of serendipity. When the regular critic at the Chicago Sun-Times stepped down in 1967, Ebert was asked by his editor to take over the role, thereby beginning a reign at the newspaper that would last well over four decades and ultimately—thanks to syndication and a groundbreaking, wildly popular television partnership with Gene Siskel—establish the bespectacled journalist from Urbana, Illinois as the most recognized and influential American critic of all time.

That Ebert never actually auditioned to be a movie critic in the first place is perhaps one of the more surprising and little known facts in “Life Itself,” the voluminous, brilliant documentary based on Ebert’s wonderful autobiography of the same name.

Near the end of his life, Ebert suffered complications from cancer that left him without a lower jawbone and unable to eat or speak; however, he appears in the film mostly from a hospital room where he briefly speaks on camera with the help of a computerized voice on his laptop. It was from here that he continued to work, writing as much as he could—reviews, Twitter posts, online journal entries, emails—until his death in 2013.

Juxtaposed with these heartbreaking, inspirational moments, “Life Itself” features countless clips, pictures and other media of Ebert during his years as a journalist, reminding viewers—from his early days running The Daily Illini, the school newspaper of his alma mater, the University of Illinois—that Ebert was first and foremost, a great newspaperman.

Later, he would become a formidable voice in criticism. The film notes Ebert’s erudite recognition of significant achievements in moviemaking over the years, which helped launch the careers of directors like Martin Scorsese and the documentarian Errol Morris (“Gates of Heaven”). Even Steve James, the director of “Life Itself,” can trace the wellspring of his success back to Ebert (James’ 1994 film “Hoop Dreams” was one of the critic’s favorite films).

Ebert became a mainstream fixture when he hooked up with a fellow critic and the two started a weekly public television program that went on to become the venerable major network movie reviewing show, Siskel & Ebert, with its legendary arguments and iconic thumbs-up, thumbs-down rating system. The movie covers how the relationship between a pair of proud scribes from competing newspapers in Chicago evolved from prickly rivalry, to mutual respect, and finally to deep, genuine and lasting friendship.

Siskel died from brain cancer in 1999. Much like Ebert, albeit more privately, he was determined to keep working as long as he could, even watching movies and taping segments from the hospital. Ebert wrote his last blog post two days before he died; it ended with the words, “I’ll see you at the movies.”

“Life Itself” is a sad, joyous, fitting denouement—moving, masterful and unforgettable.

Frances Ha (2012)

Greta Gerwig on the move in "Frances Ha."

Two women share an apartment in Brooklyn and stay up late one night discussing their shared visions for the future. We learn Frances (Greta Gerwig) is going to be a famous star as a modern dancer, while best friend and roommate Sophie (Mickey Sumner) is angling to be an influential publishing mogul that prints an expensive book about her.

That’s the way they are drawn up during this quixotic early scene in "Frances Ha," but things don't turn out entirely as planned. Life has a way of throwing curveballs and more than a few are lobbed at Frances and friends in director Noah Baumbach's charming, quirky slice of life comedy.

After Sophie moves away with her boyfriend, Frances is left scrambling to find another place to live; she winds up moving in with some friends in Chinatown. One is a hip, young sculptor with rich parents; the other, Benji (Michael Zegen), is a fledgling comedy writer who, despite an obvious crush on Frances, is unable to summon the courage to ask her out.

Not that Frances is ready for romance (Benji playfully describes her as undateable, turning the term into a running gag). Facing diminishing interest from the dancing company and struggling to make money, she's forced to take a menial summer job at her former college to make ends meet. The school, Vassar College in Poughkeepsie, N.Y., also happens to be Baumbach’s alma mater, making the film at least semi-autobiographical.

Perhaps the most heartbreaking element of the story is that despite Frances' genuine passion and enthusiasm for dancing, she seems to lack the skills needed to make a living at it. To love something so much yet not be very good is a cruel twist of fate, and as Frances reluctantly shifts focus, Baumbach slyly suggests how difficult it is to compromise when it also means letting go of dreams.

Baumbach co-wrote the film with Gerwig and the lead actress is lovable and luminous as the plucky, positive heroine. Moreover, "Frances Ha" was beautifully photographed in black and white by cinematographer Sam Levy; the chiaroscuro imagery is one of the most gorgeous cinematic valentines to New York since Woody Allen's "Manhattan."

Splendid visuals aside, “Frances Ha” is compelling without digging very deep. Baumbach keeps things moving at the expense of any real emotional investment in the characters. We’re left with a lot of shallow montages and stylish vignettes, such as when Frances briefly visits family in Sacramento as if on winter break.

The soundtrack is a highlight though, featuring some breezy interludes that keep the mood spirited and upbeat. There’s a stirring, anthem-like quality to David Bowie’s Modern Love as it plays while Frances jogs merrily through the city—skipping, twirling and darting artfully past pedestrians on the sidewalk—in one of the film’s best scenes.

Like the song goes, but I try…I try. One thing about Frances, she always keeps trying.

Young & Beautiful (2013)

Young & Talented: Marine Vacth shines
in the French film "Young & Beautiful."

Written and directed by the French filmmaker Francios Ozon, "Young & Beautiful" is an intelligent, sensitive and often mesmerizing coming of age tale about a young woman discovering the powers and limits of her maturing sexuality. The movie was nominated for a Golden Palm, the top prize at the 2013 Cannes Film Festival.

Near the end of a vacation, Isabelle (Marine Vacth), the lithesome 17-year-old brunette protagonist, has sex for the first time with a boy during an idyllic night on the beach in South France. Looking away during the encounter, she sees a vision of herself twinkling in the moonlight that gently fades away as the experience ends.

If the image is meant to suggest that a part of Isabelle is disappearing, another side quickly steps in to take its place. By the time she has cultivated a secret online alter ego as a curvy call girl named Lea—packing a sexy change of clothes and sneaking out to secluded trysting places, usually posh hotels—it’s clear she’s exchanged innocence and naiveté for more adventurous and decidedly grown-up pursuits.

Even though “Young & Beautiful” has some explicitly intimate moments, Ozon is more cerebral and doesn’t cheapen scenes with tawdry, lewd gimmicks. The movie recalls some of Bernardo Bertolucci's work—"The Dreamers" (2003), about sexual experimentation among college students, comes to mind—in the way characters use sex less as a means to express passion or lust, and more as a device to represent freedom and individuality.

Eventually, Isabelle’s mother (Geraldine Pailhas) discovers the truth and reacts to her daughter’s clandestine double life with a believable mix of fury, confusion and heartbreak. She has been a good mother. Why would Isabelle, who has always seemed happy, suddenly develop such a wild streak? “You scare me,” she says to Isabelle at one point.

But growing up itself is scary, and while Isabelle’s mastery of sex has been liberating, its underlying meaninglessness has been equally disillusioning. There’s a palpable sadness toward the end when Isabelle reveals a deeper regard for Georges (Johan Leysen), an older client, that was unlike her other empty, detached encounters. Crying softly, it’s the closest she has gotten to love and still far away.

Marine Vacth, the young French model turned ingénue, anchors the movie with a brilliant, mysterious and exquisite performance. Without ever saying much, she conveys the teen's emotions largely through nuanced facial expressions—her deep blue eyes registering subtle hints of melancholy at some points, playful mischief at others, and genuine curiosity throughout. It's a smart, seductive, star-making turn.

The Invisible War (2012)

Kori Cioca is one of the victims in "The Invisible War,"
a documentary about rape in the U.S. military.

One of many disturbing statistics in director Kirby Dick’s “The Invisible War”—a stark, revealing and infuriating documentary tracing the chilling culture of rape and sexual abuse in the United States military—informs that twenty-percent of female veterans were victims of sexual assault while serving. Because these institutions are set up to police themselves, many victims never come forward to report crimes and the few that do face professional retaliation, shame, interrogation and threats.

The lack of accountability has spawned a dark faction across all branches of military that experts call a prime, target-rich environment for predatory criminals. One study of the Navy found that fifteen-percent of incoming recruits attempted or committed rape before enlisting. The armed forces have done little to stem the tide of horrific behavior pervading its ranks—out of three thousand perpetrators, only 175 faced any jail time.

The movie chronicles several heartbreaking stories of abuse through interviews, a constant theme being the brutal, violent nature of attacks and the lasting physical and emotional scars they leave. Trina McDonald picked the Navy over a basketball scholarship but ended up drugged and repeatedly raped during her service at a secluded base in Alaska; Elle Helmer, a Lieutenant in the Marine Corps, was ordered to consume alcohol and then brutally raped by her company commander; Hannah Sewell was locked in a hotel and raped by a fellow Naval recruit; Ariana Klay, a Marine Lieutenant, was told by a senior officer that female marines are used for sex, and when she was raped, to ignore it.

A key subject emerges in Kori Cioca, a petite blonde who served in the Coast Guard and was savagely raped and beaten by her supervisor. The attack on Cioca was so severe it led to a broken jaw that left her unable to eat anything but soft foods. She now lives in Ohio with her husband and a young daughter, still fighting for proper medical coverage for her injuries and regularly dealing with post traumatic stress disorder and nightmares. Her assailant, like so many, never faced charges.

“The Invisible War” is based on a 2011 lawsuit on behalf of Cioca and several others against two former U.S. defense secretaries, alleging essentially that the military system, which deals with misconduct in-house and without any independent investigators, deprives rape survivors the constitutional right of due process. The result of the case is shocking, infuriating and sad.

Servicewomen are told to report crimes to their superior, but thirty-three percent didn't because the person to report was a friend of the rapist; twenty-five percent didn't report because the person to report to was the rapist. The film talks about a 1991 Navy sex scandal involving gang rapes in a hotel that made headlines and the “great wall of silence” that followed to protect the guilty. Today, the military continues to defy and deflect questions even when under Congressional scrutiny.

At a time when the American military is generally lauded and lionized, routinely labeled heroic, and emboldened to a degree that legitimate questions and criticism bring ridiculous charges of anti-patriotism, what "The Invisible War" and its brave subjects accomplish by uncovering these ugly, dangerous truths is more of a symbol of genuine heroism than anything with a gun or rank. The people in the armed forces could learn a lot from it if they weren’t so busy trying to cover it up.