Cineplexus

The Informant! ★★★½

 In a time when business corruption has trashed our economy and polluted our government, who doesn't want to see a movie that sends up the businessmen responsible? The Informant! (based on Kurt Eichenwald's non-fiction book of the same name) tells the story of Decatur-based agro-conglomerate Archer Daniels Midland. In particular, it tells of Mark Whitacre, their unassuming President of BioProducts, and his seemingly noble attempt to out the agribusiness practice of illegal price fixing.

Matt Damon's physical transformation (he gained 30 lbs. to play the role of Whitacre), combined with an outstanding performance, is reminiscent of DeNiro's for Raging Bull. The rest of the cast is also spot on, led by Scott Bakula (one of my favorites) and about a million comics – Joel McHale, Tom Papa, Paul F. Tompkins, Patton Oswalt, and others were cast in roles both large and small for the film.

For all the comedians taking part, is the final product funny? Yes. It's actually very funny, though most laughable (in every sense) is Damon's Whitacre, especially during his scores of non-sequitur voiceovers, which illlustrate that this man is rarely concentrating on even the most important things that occur aroung him. The movie excels at making this story more amusing that sad, though it is most certainly both. By highlighting the assinine and confusing details of this true story, the film creates the same sense of confusion in the viewer that everyone around Whitacre felt all the time.

Still, purposefully confusing is still confusing. It's hard to feel totally satisfied by a production that leaves key questions unanswered, and leaves everyone (except maybe Whitacre) guessing not until the last moment, but beyond the last moment, into the credits, and on the drive home. And these aren't questions that can be answered by a few hours of puzzling. It is doubtful that anyone knows exactly how the true story of the Informant goes.

The real Mark Whitacre is still alive. Perhaps, on his deathbed, he'll reveal a tell-all memoir that tells the tale of the real man and of the real corn industry. But at this point, I seriously doubt anyone will believe any of it.

Tony Manero ★★★

When i decide how many stars to grant a film I've seen, I typically rely on the handy rubric I created when Cineplexus was born -- that is what the rubric is for, after all. There is, however, no accurate language in that guideline to describe Tony Manero. "Meh" (what "★★★" generally stands for) couldn't be farther from the true expression of emotions this film inspires. If I were forced to sum it up in only one word, that word would probably be an uncomfortable, disconcerted sigh.

Tony Manero is set in the dark and chaotic climate of Pinochet's Chilè and follows Raúl, a 52-year-old entertainer (so to speak) deeply obsessed with Saturday Night Fever, and especially with John Travolta's character in that film (whose name, you may recall, is Tony Manero). His string of actions, each more depraved than the last, suggest an ambition to somehow become Manero.

Does it sound funny? Put that hopeful notion out of your head. Raúl is a sociopath, though he has companions. There are a few fleeting moments of humor in their attempts to recreate the dances, costumes, and sets (kind of) from Saturday Night Fever, but even these leave you feeling guilty because of the sheer sadness of it all. The majority of the film is by turns depressing and horrifying as we're subjected to unpleasantnesses of every variety. The director, native Chilean Pablo Larrain, has chosen, quite deliberately, to make a picture that is patently unenjoyable, with no truly likeable characters and no sympathy for the audience.

So, back to the rating. Why on Earth deliver even an average rating to a film with so little entertainment value? Well, an average is precisely what I mean to suggest here. Icky though it was, Tony Manero is never half-assed or sloppy. Larrain has sought to create an appropriately frustrating and dark portrait of life in Santiago under dictator Pinochet, and his calculating strokes bear a certain resemblance to those of a work of fine art that's considered a masterpiece despite being disturbing – take the work of Francis Bacon (or, more recently, Jonathan Meese) for example. I appreciate the artistry here; nevertheless, I wish he'd been able to execute his vision in a way that was less...scarring.

After leaving the theater with my father, who had suggested earlier that evening that we go see the movie, my dad started to laugh. I asked him why, and perhaps his answer sums things up best: "Two reasons. First, despite my respect for it's artistry, that was the most disturbing movie I've ever seen,  and second, I feel like a terrible father for taking you to it." I assured him I could handle it. I was a film studies student, after all. 

In the Loop ★★★★

The past few years have been jam packed with movies showcasing different perspectives on the Middle East, and on war in the Middle East specifically. Babel, Rendition, Grace is Gone…not too many of these movies have been gutbusters. I cannot, nor will I ever, subject myself to Delta Farce, so I can't speak to its comedic value. But British comedy In the Loop manages to offer an original, scathing take on Western government that is both hilarious and timely, even if its references to going to war in the Middle East refer largely to events that have long since passed.

The film focuses on a few mid-level figures in both the English and the American government, and is thus set in London and D.C. The role each government's minor players begin to take on in each other's worlds builds until it has a major effect on world events. If that sounds pretty serious, that's the beauty of In the Loop. Throughout the film, serious events are unfolding at the hands of especially un-serious people. And the most threatening figures are also the most hilarious – two Scots who can't go more that a few seconds without swearing while screaming are in charge of the English government's public relations.

A constant barrage of accents, sycophants, sarcasm, and cultural-reference jokes keep what could be a dry political "thriller" a fresh, funny, and biting political comedy. Go see it at your local indie house ASAP if you're good with accents (Chicagoans, it's showing at the Landmark Century at least through this weekend). Otherwise, wait for the subtitled DVD so you won't miss a beat.

Lions for Lambs ★★★

Rendition ★★★★★

The movie started at 7pm. At approximately 7:10pm, I was overcome with an intense nervousness, not to be abated until literally the last moments of Rendition. Since that time, I have been putting off trying to describe the intense way Rendition affected me, and have heard a lot of other people's opinions of it - something I typically avoid until getting my own thoughts in print. I've heard that Jake Gyllenhaal is a poor actor. I've heard that the film is politically wishy-washy. I've heard that it's too preachy. I've heard that it doesn't sound like the kind of movie that would be enjoyable. And I've wondered if my initial instinct to ace this film, to 5-star it flat out...could that have been wrong?

Hell no. I will not be swayed.

Rendition is a film that wins on all of my favorite levels. It's intensely moving, superbly produced in every sense, tricky and surprising, cinematically creative, and exciting. Plus, it has a bold political message that I honestly feel it examines both sides of. It is timely. It is specific. I am sure that my list of adjectives could go on for pages, but I'll stop now and try to support my lofty claims with some evidence.

The nervousness I mentioned at the outset of this review was fueled, above all, by the angry conflict between two sides of a very real political issue, the use of "extreme measures" to collect information about terrorists or potential terrorists. Specifically, the issue at hand is a particular case of "extraordinary rendition," the act of exporting someone to another country to have them tortured "by proxy." As Meryl Streep's icy character states boldly in the film, "The United States DOES NOT torture," but in this story the CIA is very interested in the results of a particular torturing which it essentially requested to take place. Can we sense some political implications here?

The victim in question is an Egyptian professor who's lived in America for most of his life and is married to an American woman. While he's doing business in the Middle East, his cell phone is found to be linked to that of a known terrorist leader. That the nature of this connection is never explained by the film is crucial to its core question: With so little evidence, no trial, and no leads, is the slim possibility of torturing information out of a person worth the extreme violation of human rights required by such practices? While Rendtion has its share of major characters who truly believe they are protecting more through torture than they are destroying, the film's stance on the issue is revealed through the bewildered protestations of Jake Gyllenhaal's character, a pencil-pushing CIA agent who gets tossed into the middle of an act of extraordinary rendition when his coworker is killed in a suicide bombing. But far more powerful is the other method the film uses to reveal its position: the dangerous but eerily understandable decisions of two Cairo youth.

I genuinely want you to see this movie, so I won't spoil it. But I will say that the actions and backstory of these kids suggests that while terrorism might be the path to torture, torture (and, implicitly, other brutalities and seized freedoms) begets more terrorism and violence. The way this story line intersects and reunites with the main rendition case is the true art and magic of this film, and why I ultimately couldn't be persuaded to take back any of my hastily-bestowed stars.

That said, is my opinion politically biased? Who knows. I have my political stance, and not someone else's. I cannot claim to be anything less than a bleeding-heart liberal; my heart bleeds for the unrepresented and underrepresented masses of our confused planet, and for the millions of us who have been persuaded that our civil liberties and human rights are less important than our sense of well-being. My liberal heart aches at the thought that something as shallow as national ties can make us feel that the lives of others are less valuable than the lives of Americans, in a time when you can circle the entire globe, all the life we know in the universe, in a matter of hours. And this bleeding liberal heart was stirred to heap praise a movie that so expertly illustrates such heavy sentiments. I wouldn't try to review this film, or any other, with anyone else's.