Cave of Forgotten Dreams (2010)

 

Four Lions (2010) **1/2

It is difficult to believe that Four Lions (2010) is director Christopher Morris’ first feature film, because it is steady and focused. Morris is primarily known in England for his work on the mock news program The Day Today (1994), where he wrote and read some of the funniest news ever to cross the airwaves of the BBC. If you’re an American and you haven’t heard of this film don’t feel like you’ve been living under a rock. You see, this is a rather controversial film—a satirical comedy about homegrown British jihadists.  It was difficult enough to get Channel 4 or the BBC to get behind the project (eventually Film 4 Productions and Warp Films came on board), it was even more difficult to find a U.S. distributor—it took nine months, and even then it found a VERY limited release. Why?

The movie is about five young Muslim men who become determined to commit jihad on their homeland—England.  Never were there five men on earth less suited for such an endeavor.  The leader of the group, Omar (Riz Ahmed), is a husband and father who tells his son jihad bedtime stories with Simba from The Lion King starring as the martyr.  He aligns himself with four of the biggest losers ever: Waj (Kayvan Novak), a half-wit who takes his cell phone to a jihad training camp; Faisal (Adeel Akhtar), a man who tries to train crows to carry bombs; Barry (Nigel Lindsay), a white convert who thinks that if you swallow your SIM card your cell phone can’t be tracked; and, Hassan (Arsher Ali), a would-be rapper of jihad.  Basically, they are the Five Stooges of Jihad.

I’m sure there are many people who think it’s not okay to make a satirical film about jihad—and, that’s their right—but I think that if you can make a TV show like Hogan’s Heroes or a film like or To Be or Not to Be then you can make a film like this.  It’s irreverent, topical, and hilarious.  Omar has the perfect family—a beautiful wife (Preeya Kalidas) and an adoring son—and is gainfully employed.  Yet, he is a also a critic of Western society—the same man who tell his son the Simba jihad bedtime story and allows his wife to work in a hospital.  It doesn’t fit.  Then, you have Hassan, a university student who devises his jihad video to include this rap: “I'm the Mujahedeen and I'm making a scene / Now you's gonna feel what the boom-boom means / It's like Tupac said, "When I die, I'm not dead"/ We are the martyrs, you're just smashed tomatoes / Allah Akbar!” How serious can this man be? But the worst has to be Barry—a man so insanely wrong about everything that he says things like, “You can't win an argument just by being right.”  This is the same man who tells his co-conspirators that if they shake their heads from side-to-side quickly that surveillance cameras won’t be able to capture their images.  This is the man who wants to be the leader?

Shot in an almost documentary style, the film reminds me of This Is Spinal Tap (1984) or Borat (2007), but it’s not a mockumentary but a satirical commentary about one of England’s closest held fears—homegrown jihadists doing things like the 7/7 London bombings.  While this film came out five years after that horrific day, its topic is still a sore spot for many in the nation.  I wonder what some people felt when they watched the final sequences of this movie, where the four surviving men (or the four lions) dress up in costumes (Teenage Mutant Turtle, Honey Monster, an Ostrich that looks like it has a giant penis, and a really idiotic Clown) and attempt to blow-up the London marathon.  Could this really happen?  Surely idiots like these would be detected before it got that far…

There is no doubt that the movie is funny.  It might make some people uncomfortable to watch it, let alone laugh at it, but I think it is worth a look.  In the words of Will Durst, “Comedy is defiance. It's a snort of contempt in the face of fear and anxiety. And it's the laughter that allows hope to creep back on the inhale.”

Of Gods and Men (Des hommes et des dieux) 2010 ***

While the Islamic world sets itself aflame with religious zeal due to perceived slights to the Prophet Mohammed by one very intolerant bigot I watched director Xavier Beauvois’ Of Gods and Men (2010). It tells the spiritually courageous story of eight French Trappist monks’ attempt to ride out the Algerian Civil War, which was a.10-year bloody struggle (1992-2002) for power between the government and Islamist rebel groups. The story takes place in the winter of ‘95-96 at the monks monastery, Notre-Dame de l'Atlas of Tibhirine, during a clash between rebels and the government.  As danger knocked at their ancient door, the monks had to decide whether they would remain true to their vocation or give into their fear of death.

Often when people watch films about contemplative religious (monks and nuns) they have a difficult time understanding the austerity and quietness in which these men and women live. As someone with a bit of experience with the religious life I suspect I have better insight into this world than most.  As such, I was not fazed when Beauvois chose to focus in on the internal (mostly silent) struggles of these men as they grappled with their desire to stay true to their calling while at the same time fearing death.  Still, crises of faith, especially ones that remain mostly unspoken, don’t exactly make for riveting cinema for most viewers.  There are many long, static shots of still silence in this, and for some that can come off as boring.  I expect many viewers asked themselves why Beauvois chose not to have the men’s internal dialogues spoken in voiceover.  Ah, but it’s all about their facial expressions and body language—that’s how you understand what they are thinking.  If you can convey this without vocalizing it then you, as a director and as an actor, have done something special. 

Other than Michael Lonsdale, who plays Brother Luc, most of the actors here are relatively unknown to audiences outside of France.  Some may be familiar with the work of Lambert Wilson (especially fans of The Matrix films), who plays Brother Christian, but the other six monks are played by French character actors. The one thing a character actor knows how to do is how to use his/her face and body in a scene.  They don’t always have a lot of dialogue, so they have to make up for this with stage/screen presence.  This is exactly the type of actor Beauvois needed to fill the roles of his often silent monks.  Dialogue hogs have a tendency to become hammy when they have limited lines, so it was an inspired decision to use actors who weren’t used to having to speak a lot on screen.  As a result, all eight men give delightfully nuanced performances which make you believe that they are monks.  Of course, for me Lonsdale’s Brother Luc is the most memorable of the men.  Perhaps it was his age-induced haggard look and his lumbering gait, or maybe it was those weary soul-full eyes of his, but he fully embodied so many religious that I have come across in my life.  He deservedly won a Best Supporting Actor César (France’s Oscar) for the greatest performance of his long, storied career. 

While there are many expertly designed scenes to discuss, I would like to focus on my favorite: Beauvois’ homage to The Last Supper. Set to Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake (op. 20 Moderato), the monks gather around their communal table to partake in what one would assume they viewed as a meal of reprieve. Having overcome their personal struggles about whether to flee danger or to stay true to the words of John 10:12: “a good shepherd does not abandon his flock,” the men are at peace with themselves and one another. As they silently and reverently listen to that beautiful composition a wave of emotion washes over each man’s face.  In one of the more powerful scenes I’ve seen in recent cinema, Beauvois employs extreme close-ups of every man’s face.  This elicits an extremely powerful emotional reaction from the viewer (at least it did for me).  Knowing what will soon befall seven of these men, of course, makes it an even more bittersweet view of what can only be seen as unmitigated joy at being alive and at peace with themselves.  (While I don’t do this often, I invite you to watch this clip: http://vimeo.com/27678110)

Overall, Of Gods and Men is an emotionally riveting film.  The peace with which these men lived is inspirational. At a time when there is so much religious unrest in the world it is good to know that there are some people who still believe in peace, tolerance and human goodness.

Black Swan (2010) **1/2

(Please be advised that there is no possible way of discussing this film without revealing spoilers. Consider the entire post one prolonged spoiler.)

I will never again watch Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s ballet Swan Lake without wondering whether the ballerina playing the Swan Queen is certifiably insane. I have Natalie Portman and her Oscar-winning turn in Black Swan (2010) to thank for this. Greatly aided by the deft direction of Darren Aronofsky and an outstanding production design, Portman’s complete metamorphosis into a gifted but mentally unstable ballerina is phenomenal.

Portman plays Nina Sayers, a sexually repressed ballerina in what I can only assume is supposed to be a company modeled on the New York City Ballet.  When the company’s director, Thomas Leroy (Vincent Cassel), chooses Nina to replace his former muse, Beth (Winona Ryder in an inspired but brief role), and play the Swan Queen in the season’s opening ballet, Nina believes all of her dreams have come true.  Technically precise and incapable of coming off as anything but innocent, Nina makes a wonderful White Swan.  The problem is that self-doubt begins to creep in when Thomas constantly berates her for her inability to lose her frigidness and dance with the passion that is required for the Black Swan.  Already suffering from mild hallucinations, the pressure to meet Thomas’ expectations and to fight off a would-be competitor in Lily (Mila Kunis), causes Nina to rapidly descend into a world of mental instability. 

Okay, I’m not ashamed to admit that I had to watch this film twice before I got it (at least, I think I did). Sometimes psychological thrillers need a second look—think the Sixth Sense (1999)—and when I wasn’t fully convinced that Nina and Lily were two separate people I had to re-watch it.  Think about it: Nina is almost always dressed in white, while Lily is always in black.  Then you have Lily’s creepy winged tattoo; plus, there is that now infamous lesbian love scene that didn’t really happen.  Oh, and let’s not forget the would-be dressing room catfight where Nina stabs Lily with a shard of broken mirror glass. Yes, I had a “WTF” moment when after delivering a scintillating Black Swan Pas de Deux Nina is congratulated by Lily.  This was my reaction: 1) If she was real and Nina stabbed her shouldn’t she be dead? 2) If she’s alive and unharmed, who got stabbed? If you were like me, you “got it” when Nina pulls that shard out of her own stomach.  But then you start wondering how she danced with it in her and then how she continued to dance the Coda after she pulled it out. Hence, why you might watch it again. This uncertainty is why I can’t convince myself this is an extremely good film.

However, I am convinced that Portman deserved her Academy Award for Best Actress (although, the competition that year was lacking).  No doubt having a degree in psychology from Harvard University helped Portman wrap her mind around her mentally unstable character.  She never seems to overplay just how deranged Nina is, which is one of the reasons her performance is so visceral.  Still, she had to do more than understand her character’s motivations for this demanding part.  She spent over a year physically preparing for the role by studying ballet with Mary Helen Bowers and Benjamin Millepied (whom she later married) and she transformed her body into that of a ballerina’s.  Portman has said that at one point during filming she felt as though she might die from exhaustion.  While she may have been tired off the set, her complete embodiment of Nina is anything but tired.  I haven’t seen her give such a raw performance since Closer (2004).

The overall production is also memorable.  Costume designer Amy Westcott (with occasional help from Rodarte) does a splendid job of outfitting an entire ballet company. The Black Swan costume in particular is a standout design, but her choices of clothing for scenes between Nina and Lily are also creatively crafted.  I especially liked the dresses she designed for them to wear to the benefit party. 

The other shining element of Black Swan is Clint Mansell’s score. Not just anyone could take a canonical piece of music like Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake and completely rip it apart and then reshape it into their own vision, but Mansell did.  Known primarily for his work on Requiem for a Dream (2000), Mansell re-recorded his version of Swan Lake with an 80-piece orchestra and totally revamped a timeless classic.  It is unfortunate that his score was not eligible for the Academy Awards, because he truly deserved to be recognized.  His music expertly sets the tone throughout the entire film.

While Nina might have found her performance “perfect” (even though she said this as she lay bleeding to death, so how perfect could it really have been?), I can’t go so far as to categorize Black Swan as such.  Still, I enjoyed watching Portman’s powerful performance, and I really liked the music and costumes. 

The Social Network (2010) ****

Rarely does a megalomaniac get their comeuppance at such an early age as does Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg) in The Social Network (2010). Adapted from Ben Mezrich’s book The Accidental Billionaires, the film focuses on how Facebook was created and the lawsuits that followed.  It is a lacerating and ironic examination of the world in which we live today—Zuckerberg just serves as the unlikable whipping boy of an entire generation. 

The Internet has developed into an alternate reality for many people.  It is the place where anyone can seem interesting—especially those people who are socially awkward and personality-deprived.  It is the place where you can write on your blog that your now ex-girlfriend is a bitch and that she has small breasts.  It is the place where you can rate your fellow students and co-workers as “hot” or “not hot”.  It allows you to say whatever you want about someone without having to say it to their face.  It helps you make “friends” that you could never make in person. Quite simply, you could have the social skills of a paper bag and the personality of a megalomaniac and still found a billion dollar website about connecting with people.  Could anything be more ironic than this?

Yet, there is another, often overlooked, theme in this movie that screenwriter Aaron Sorkin focuses on: intellectual property theft. While Sorkin doesn’t delve into this as fully as he might have, it is still there.  While the whole debate about how much Zuckerberg appropriated from the Winklevoss twins (Armie Hammer) and Divya Narendra (Max Minghella) is examined in both Mezrich’s book and Sorkin’s screenplay, I believe there is an underlying critique of what the Internet has done to the integrity of intellectual property.  In cases like that of the Winklevoss twins you might have the original idea for something, but then someone can come along polish it up and then pass it off as their own and have no qualms about doing so because they believe they made it better.  It is sort of like this blog (and countless others) about the 1001 book.  Steven Jay Schneider and his fellow editors came up with the original idea, but other people have piggybacked off of it. Are we a society that lacks originality, or have we become a world comprised of adapters—as Sorkin himself is, by adapting a screenplay (an Oscar winning one by the way) from Mezrich’s book?  I often ponder this question—perhaps you should, too.

The reason I like The Social Network so much is because I think it is a brutal analysis of  what the Internet Age has done to society.  Still, a film like this would be nothing without a superb cast and production team.  While I think Eisenberg does a tremendous job of not turning Zuckerberg into a caricature, I found both Justin Timberlake and Andrew Garfield’s performances to be more compelling.  Timberlake plays Sean Parker with just the right amount of smarminess and manic-ness (the OED hasn’t made this a word yet, but they should).  I hated his character (I think that’s what Sorkin was going for), but loved how Timberlake made be loathe him. 

Garfield’s Eduardo is the most sympathetic character in the entire picture—of course, this could have had something to do with his serving as an adviser on Mezrich’s book.  Still, I thought Garfield played Eduardo as a young man caught in a bad situation quite well. He plays an often confounded grown-up in a quiet, somewhat restricted way, while Eisenberg gets free reign to turn Zuckerberg into one of the biggest asses ever. Garfield is often unjustly overlooked, but without him the film would have lost its moral compass.  I suppose the fact that my favorite scene in the entire movie is when Eduardo tells Zuckerberg and Parker that he won’t be pushed out willingly might make me biased towards him.  When he says to Zuckerberg: “You better lawyer up asshole, because I'm not coming back for 30%, I'm coming back for everything!” I felt that righteous indignation nudge that makes me identify with someone who has been wronged.  Plus, I absolutely loved how he made Sean Parker cower in fear when he pretended like he was going to hit him.  The best line in the entire film is when he says, “I like standing next to you, Sean. It makes me look so tough.” What a way to be thrown out of your own company!

Overall, The Social Network is a film that expertly represents the time period in which it was made.  It says something rather profound about the Internet Age and about the social network that has evolved from it. 

 

Inception (2010) **1/2

The first thing you need to know about this 2010 film from director Christopher Nolan is that it must be watched multiple times before it ever makes sense—and even then some things might be a bit sketchy.  The story itself is so unbelievable that when the characters attempt to make it sound plausible you get a headache. That said, it is an awesome spectacle of the power of special effects—and ones that are not heavily reliant on CGI.  Inception is primarily a visual experience, but it can also be seen as a psychological analysis of the architecture of the dreamscape.

Okay, so how does one explain this movie without sounding as though one should be carted off to an asylum?  Leonardo DiCaprio plays Don Cobb, the ringleader of a ragtag group who engage in corporate espionage by infiltrating people's dreams to extract important information.  Ah, yes, here comes the man with the straightjacket now!  Cobb is a wanted man in the United States for murdering his wife (Marion Cotillard) and will do anything to have his name cleared so he can return to his two children.  After passing Japanese businessman Saito’s (Ken Watanabe) test, Cobb and his crew are asked by Saito to plant an idea into the mind of a business rival’s son—thus, the title of the film: inception. Okay, so that’s all I’m going to attempt to explain about the plot. To go on anymore would give me a headache and draw the attention of mental health authorities.  Instead, I would like to discuss what I did and didn’t like about the film.  Dislikes: Ellen Page and the endless explanations about dreams within dreams. Likes: Visuals and Marion Cotillard.

Am I the only one who wished Ellen Page’s character, Ariadne, would go into a deep dream and never wake up? I found myself begging her to stop asking, “What’s happening?” Her name was not  Rerun and, more importantly, no one really knows the answer.  Page just didn’t fit into the overall landscape of the film. Besides the pudgy chemist played by Dileeep Rao, everyone in the film is action-movie fit.  I can somewhat see DiCaprio, Watanabe, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, and Tom Hardy shooting guns and engaging in hand-to-hand combat with a literal dream army—but short, non-athletic Page, really?  There’s one scene in the film where she has to run. Suffice to say, Nolan wasn’t aiming for a laugh here, but he got one.  I thought I was watching The Wizard of Oz for a second—”Does Fischer (Cillian Murphy) have Munchkins running around in his dreams?” I wondered. Plus, Ariadne is just annoying—who just invites themselves into someone else’s dream?  There’s a reason Evan Rachel Wood was Nolan’s first choice for the role!

The plot is crazy! Accept it and move on Chris Nolan—stop making your characters explain what is happening every five minutes. The more they explain, the more confused I become.  Is this the point?  When things are so utterly unbelievable you come to a point where you must embrace the insanity and hope the spectacular images can carry the film.

And, that is what carries the film—images. Cinematographer Wally Pfister and editor Lee Smith do a phenomenal job of creating a unique look for each dream level.  While the plot may be confounded, the viewer always knows which dream level they are looking at based on the atmospheric design.  I know when I see the stark gray and white of the compound that I’m looking at the third level; and, when I see the warmer, almost vintage-esque design I am seeing the second level at the hotel. In addition, it is visually striking to watch both whole cityscapes being designed and destroyed in a split second.  Plus, there is nothing like watching the team escape the dreamscape by riding the kicks up the three levels of the dream. In those few moments you believe you understand what you just watched for the last 2+ hours—it’s an illusion, but at least some perspective seems to have been gained.

Finally, Marion Cotillard is chillingly thrilling as DiCaprio’s dead ex-wife Mal.  Locked up in DiCaprio’s subconscious, she only emerges in his dreams—as well as anyone else’s who happens to be sharing Cobb’s.  No better looking saboteur has ever graced the screen than Cotillard.  Nolan deliberately framed her as a femme fatale, even though she was an atypical one.  She could be ferociously vindictive one moment and then heartbreakingly vulnerable the next.  Mal is the most developed character in the entire movie and she’s dead—that doesn’t say much for the rest of the characters, but still, she is the most memorable.  One very strange coincidence was Nolan’s choice to use Edith Piaf’s "Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien" as a plot device in a film where Cotillard’s character has many, many regrets—and of course, the fact that Cotillard won an Academy Award for playing Piaf in La Vie En Rose (2007) only adds to the strangeness. Although it may have been unintentional, it was still amusing to me and countless others.

The King’s Speech (2010) ****

One of the best films I’ve seen in years.  Everything is stellar about this 2010 Academy Award winner for Best Picture, Best Actor, Best Director, and Best Original Screenplay.  The acting is courageously superb; the costumes are spot-on; and, the story is inspiring.  There was nothing I didn’t like about this film (sans the fact that Helena Bonham Carter wasn’t in it more).  Watching director Tom Hooper’s masterpiece was a highly enjoyable experience—something that is sorely missing in most movies today.

Director Tom Hooper tells the true story of how an Australian commoner helped King George VI (Oscar-winner Colin Firth) of England manage his stammer.  From the start of the film we see how truly debilitating this stammer is, as the then Duke of York, Prince Albert (AKA Bertie), struggles through a speech at Wembley Stadium.  Overcome with feelings of helplessness for her husband, the Duchess of York, Elizabeth (Helena Bonham Carter), locates highly recommended speech therapist Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush) and asks him to treat the prince.  What ensues is an unlikely story of friendship and courage. 

I suppose what I liked most about the movie is that it wasn’t about some miracle cure that freed the king of his ailment.  Instead, it was a story about why the king stammered and how he learned to manage it.  Through his dealings with his overbearing father, King George V (Michael Gambon), and his selfish brother, King Edward VIII (Guy Pearce), we see why Bertie stammered.  Bullied and made fun of by his own royal family (and even mistreated by a nanny!) because of his stammer, Bertie had issues of self-confidence, which only intensified the stammering.  The idea of having to give a speech or a radio address terrified him.  That is why he put up with Lionel’s total disregard for royal etiquette and protocol.  I think Firth does an excellent job not only with the stammering vocalizations the role calls for, but also with exhibiting the inner turmoil and frustration that the king has.  There is a truly terrified look in his eyes at times.  The facial constraint alone must have been exhausting. 

Both Helena Bonham Carter and Geoffrey Rush earned Best Supporting Acting nominations for their roles.  Carter is a subdued but plucky Duchess of York.  I usually enjoy her in just about everything, so I was not surprised to hear her very precise English diction or to see her refined regal posture. Oh, and the look she gives to Wallis Simpson (Eve Best) upon their meeting at Balmoral Castle is priceless. Much like Carter does, Rush makes his performance seem effortless, though it is anything but that.  His Lionel can be confident and irreverent one minute and in the next be timid and respectful.  I think he and Firth play very well off one another, and the friendship that develops between the two men seems palpable.

While the entire film is stellar, there is one scene that is better than the rest.  Since the film is called The King’s Speech it should come as no surprise that the pinnacle of the film is when the king gives his September 3, 1939, speech asking the British people to stand united with him against Nazism. Showing any sign of weakness is not an option when a nation is at war, and so the king must appear strong and steady.  The staging of the delivery of the speech is masterfully done.  Set to the second movement of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7, Lionel comes off as the conductor and the king as the instrument of the British people.  Watching the king use the techniques he has learned from Lionel while giving the speech of a lifetime is inspiring and a little hair-raising as well. 

Now, as a historian I must caution that there are some historical inaccuracies, but nothing that was so egregious that I couldn’t enjoy the film.  Still, please know that they portray Churchill in a much more positive light than he deserves, and even the king was not without fault when it came to dealing with the Nazis.  Consult your history books for a more accurate representation of this period. 

True Grit (2010) **

True disappointment is more like it!  Three great actors and two Coen brothers would seem like a recipe for success, but something went wrong with True Grit (2010).  I suppose I am in the minority here, as I read many critics’ reviews that praised this Coen venture.  In addition, it garnered ten Academy Award nominations (at least it didn’t win any!). Now, it’s not like I am one of those rabid John Wayne fans who thought there was no way the 2010 version could compare to the 1969 one, because I didn’t think that was that good, either (though Wayne does give a fine performance).  No, I just found it an average, run-of-the-mill Hollywood picture—without the aliens and huge explosions.  That’s not to say there is anything wrong with average—I tell my students average is fine, as most people are “C” students—but with all the hype surrounding this film I expected more but got less.

An adaptation of the 1968 Charles Porter novel of the same name, the film is about one girl’s unyielding need for retribution for her father’s murder.  More mature than any fourteen year old I ever met, Mattie Ross (Hailee Steinfeld) wants to hunt down Tom Chaney (Josh Brolin) and bring him to justice for killing his boss and her father.  She may be matter-of-fact and businesslike, but she lacks the necessary skills to venture into Indian Territory (this film is set way before the PC age) and apprehend him herself.  So, she hires a Deputy U.S. Marshall known for a shoot-first mentality and, well, true grit.  Marshall Rooster Cogburn (Jeff Bridges) might have true grit, but he’s also a drunk and unpleasant person.  Along the way they team up with (and occasionally break off from) Texas Ranger LaBoeuf (Matt Damon), who is after Chaney for killing a Texas state senator.  What follows is a drawn out (literally) search of a half-witted, pseudo-psychopath, with a few side encounters with odd characters and reprehensible reprobates. 

The acting is passable to good. As usual, Brolin gives a strong performance in his very limited screen time.  In addition, this is one of Damon’s best roles in years.  The young Hailee Steinfeld was nominated for Best Supporting Actress, which I don’t understand, as she is clearly the focal point and star of this film.  It is difficult to believe that this was her first feature film, as she stood up well against three highly respected male stars. As for Bridges, who was nominated for Best Actor, I thought he hammed it up too much and made Rooster into a caricature.  Without a doubt, John Wayne’s Rooster is the more superior of the two.  The nuances that won Bridges the Oscar for his portrayal of Bad Blake in Crazy Heart (2009) are MIA—perhaps he had to top his award winning turn or was afraid that his career would end once people saw Tron: Legacy (2010).  Who knows? I just wasn’t into it.

I’m usually a fan of the Coen Brothers’ work, but they have a habit of making really good films (No Country for Old Men [2007], O Brother , Where Art Thou? [2001], and Fargo [1996]) and then making really average (and sometimes crappy) ones (Burn After Reading [2008] and The Ladykillers [2004]).  True Grit falls somewhere in between the good ones and the crappy ones.  It may have been their choice to have the characters speak in an exaggerated manner that irked me the most.  No one, not even back in the 1800s, spoke like that unless they were on the stage.  And, these characters are most certainly not on the stage—no matter how resolute their personal agendas. 

The one thing I truly enjoyed about the film were the scenes between Mattie and Colonel Stonehill (veteran television actor Dakin Matthews).  The true exasperation that the poor Colonel encounters at his business dealings with Mattie are funny and entertaining.  When he says, “I do not entertain hypotheticals. The world itself is vexing enough,” I couldn’t help but laugh.  Had the rest of the film been a bit more like these scenes I might have liked it better.