Terrence Malick can’t count himself among the most popular directors working today, but he can certainly count himself among the most respected. His work tends to follow suit, and “The Tree of Life” is no exception. This meditation on life, death, God and the origin of the universe can be described as nothing short of visually masterful, but as well as Malick commands everything within his frame, he has a lot of trouble commanding his audience’s attention span.

Not that he cares — or should. Malick is cinema’s finest poet, and poetry has always been an art form belonging to the artist. We are not meant to understand “The Tree of Life,” but to be affected by it, struck by it in some way. The general public won’t take kindly to this, but anyone with an eye for expert filmmaking has to tip the hat to Malick’s latest.

“The Tree of Life” tells a non-linear story using a series of short visual sequences. Jack (Hunter McCracken as a boy, Sean Penn as a man) grew up in Texas in the ‘50s to a kind and spirited mother (Jessica Chastain) and a tough-love father (Brad Pitt). Although we know Jack loses his brother at the age of 19, this has little bearing on the rest of the plot, though it complicates older Jack’s perspective and informs the rest of our experience with the film. We then see the universe in action (including dinosaurs), followed by Jack’s life growing up.

The film ultimately becomes about Jack forgiving his father for making him “choose” between his parents, for the psychological damage done to him because of his father’s strict rules and rough life lessons. We see this in scenes best described as fleeting memories accompanied by voiceovers of the characters’ one-sided conversations with God.

As we all do in less cinematic ways, Malick wrestles here with faith and with our place in the world as individuals. Rarely, however, does he manage to make a concise point about any of this. Also, the film’s emotional impact comes only from the way we see Pitt’s character treat his children and how it damages Jack. There’s a disconnect then between what the film is about and how it leaves its deepest impression.

Pitt and Chastain give excellent performances despite the fact that “Tree of Life” is not a film about performances, at least not in the traditional sense. As much as they must be able to act, they must also be able to soak up the camera and bask in the expert lighting. That’s what it takes to be in a Malick film. McCracken also impresses considering how little he’s given to say.

Not enough can be said about the beauty of this film. Malick’s camera takes on a life of its own, moving fluidly throughout scenes and only pausing to capture something remarkable, usually with regards to light. Surely if he devoted these skills to more traditional storytelling he’d be among the most celebrated filmmakers alive.

It’s easy to dismiss “The Tree of Life” as pretentious. Unquestionably we expect certain things from film that we don’t expect from poetry; we value accessibility in our moviegoing experiences and “The Tree of Life” offers little of that. At the same time, it has valuable things to say and does so with a visual power rivaled by little else.

3.5/5 Stars

The Tree of Life
Written and Directed by Terrence Malick
Starring: Brad Pitt, Jessica Chastain, Hunter McCracken, Sean Penn

Actor-turned-director Thomas McCarthy came off as a natural in his first two features as a director: 2003’s “The Station Agent” and 2007’s “The Visitor.” That put a fat old earmark on latest effort “Win Win.”

All three films demonstrate an understanding of human motivation and how more often than not, things do not turn out as we plan. The conflicts in his films are extraordinary in the most down-to-earth sense of the word: unusual people and unusual circumstance can enter our lives at a moment’s notice and through handling that hardship we become better people.

“Win Win” encompasses all of these notions and into a tighter, even more Hollywood-like package than McCarthy’s previous films. Paul Giamatti stars as Mike Flaherty, an attorney whose practice is struggling, so he spends late afternoons coaching a high school wrestling team. When he learns of a way he can earn money by claiming guardianship of one of his clients with dementia and placing him in an assisted living facility, he pulls the trigger despite knowing the old man (Burt Young) would prefer to live on his own.

The decision proves a real win-win — until teenager Kyle (Alex Shaffer) enters the picture. Kyle hitched a ride from Columbus to New Jersey to stay with the old man, his grandfather, after his mother (Melanie Lynskey) checked into drug rehab. Mike and his wife, Jackie (Amy Ryan), take Kyle in because seeing as he can’t live at the assisted living facility or alone in his grandfather’s house. Kyle, as it turns out, was also a top wrestler in the state of Ohio, and he joins the team.

Mike finds a way to make it so that once again, everyone wins, but then Kyle’s mom shows up and throws it all into turmoil, putting Mike in a bind and bringing out Kyle’s angry side.

Giamatti does some of his best work as Mike. Giamatti is most often drawn to playing unlikable characters or ones with glaring flaws and while Mike fits that bill, it’s much more understated. Mike bends the rules in one instance, an instance upon which everything that happens next is built. Of course after it all piles up, McCarthy pulls the plug and Mike’s true character is tested.

So “Win Win” doesn’t offer any surprises or truly unique insights into morality. Instead, it plays out one of the many kinds of universal human dilemmas that people face every day. Then it reminds us how we should treat others and rectify situations in which we’ve done wrong. McCarthy is just being honest with us, and the drama and the acting reflect that.

In terms of the wrestling element, one could see it as metaphor for perseverance, but its primary function in the film is to give characters Mike and Kyle an outlet. It helps Mike deal with stress and it allows Kyle to channel his hardships in a healthy way. It didn’t have to be wrestling, but wrestling was really the perfect choice.

“Win Win” feels like a film true to its title. It can get a bit slow, but it would be unfair to refer to its pseudo-remarkable nature as “being too realistic.” It strikes a nice balance of conflict, enough to stay engaging yet certainly nothing over the top or melodramatic. Considering the number of films that tip the scales one way or another in that regard, “Win Win” deserves acclaim simply for being neutral.

4/5 Stars

Win Win
Written and Directed by Thomas McCarthy
Starring: Paul Giamatti, Amy Ryan, Alex Shaffer, Melanie Lynskey

The love story takes many forms in film. Many would argue “Blue Valentine” takes the more “realistic” approach in that it depicts the fracturing of a relationship amidst a sea of flashbacks to more idealistic and happier times. “Blue Valentine” might not have a traditional happy ending, but that doesn’t necessarily make it a depressing love story. Whereas many relationships happily succeed, others fail and others take less concrete and grayer directions. Derek Cianfrance simply paints a deep, complex and not-so-uplifting portrait of one such relationship.

Perhaps “honest” would be more suitable a term than “realistic” in that marriages and relationships can take a variety of courses and the story of Cindy and Dean is one possible trajectory, even if it’s one we wish didn’t occur as often as it does.

The film follows the present time line of Cindy (Michelle Williams) and Dean (Ryan Gosling) attempting to take a one-day vacation together amid an atmosphere of frustrations and some thick tension. They drop their daughter Frankie off with Cindy’s father and travel to a hotel where they end up in an outer space-themed suite that sort of awkwardly sums up that they’re in different places emotionally. Cindy has a lot on her mind and can’t seem to relax, leading her to be sexually unresponsive, and Dean can’t seem to approach her the right way about it, leading to his own frustrations. There seems to be a distinct effort being made to love each other, but there’s an unquestionable hollowness or at least a disconnect.

Peppered throughout but not in an obnoxiously non-linear way are flashbacks to when they first met and fell in love. Gosling’s Dean shows some continuity between these two time lines, whereas earlier Cindy, despite being a bit standoffish consistently throughout, shows a completely different side, which is fitting for her character considering how out of love she really is in present day.

Most impressively, the script creates empathy and sympathy for both characters; no one person is the victim or the enemy throughout. Both make mistakes, even if the scales tip heavily at certain points in the film. Unless you personally find your life to mirror one of these characters based on a past (or current, I suppose) relationship, there’s no taking sides.

The depth of Gosling and Williams’ performances doesn’t allow partiality either. Gosling certainly gives the more external performance with a quick temper yet a deep love that occasionally forces out his fragility. Cindy by nature bottles up her emotions and Williams manages to convey it all beautifully. Cianfrance effectively balances these two powerful acting forces entering their primes and lets you feel their relationship and their story.

Successfully generating empathy proves here to be a valuable filmmaking skill. Cianfrance wields it properly and effectively in a film with just a few key events capable of commanding our attention otherwise. A gripping scene occurs when Cindy makes the determination to have her pregnancy aborted. The doctor (though kindly) describes what he’s doing in vivid detail and you can’t help but enter the mind of Cindy as she wrestles with whether she can go through with the procedure. It’s potent stuff no matter what side of the debate you’re on.

Non-traditional love stories with un-Hollywood endings have a tendency to get preachy in the end, but “Blue Valentine” doesn’t make any grand thematic statements. The inconclusive ending of the film suggests that we must find our own way to make peace with this “honest” outcome. The only obvious thing to take away is that it sucks; it sucks when these things happen and it’s not necessarily any one person’s fault — it’s the relationship.

Yet the film suggests it could be worse. A few other low-profile relationships in the film, such as the one between Cindy’s mother and father, show how relationships often times continue when they shouldn’t. Just because two disagreeing people stick it out together doesn’t mean they did the right thing for their family. But no matter which lens you choose to look at the film through, Cianfrance and this talented group of writers and actors convinces you thoroughly to find that lens and use it.

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4/5 Stars

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Blue Valentine
Directed by Derek Cianfrance
Written by Derek Cianfrance, Cami Delavigne and Joey Curtis
Starring: Michelle Williams, Ryan Gosling

Never has a coming-of-age story been crossed with dystopian historical fiction, or however you might describe the world of Kazuo Ishiguro’s novel “Never Let Me Go” and its film of the same title. The contrast in narratives works in an effectively haunting manner here: the youthful idealism of growing up with the exposed underbelly of a seemingly perfect world. Some people will not be able to accept the society created by the film, others will see it as an opportunity for unique character study, but Mark Romanek’s work leaves a definite impression.

Romanek (“One Hour Photo”) sets the tone of a period piece. Without the narration of Carey Mulligan’s Kathy, we’d be left utterly confused. As she reflects on the past, the film takes ups back to a boarding school named Hailsham in the ’70s. The children are not brainwashed, but they’re sheltered from outside influences. We only sense trouble through a peripheral character, a teacher played by Sally Hawkins, who takes it upon herself to tell the children they’re being raised only so that they can serve as organ donors and that they might as well learn to love the little life that they’ll get to experience.

Miss Lucy is dismissed the next day, but the children don’t seem to mind. To them, life is about discovering the opposite sex and typical pre-teenage things. Kathy in particular is drawn to Tommy, a boy who is made fun of and prone to fits of rage. They begin to form a bond until Ruth, Kathy’s friend, goes after Tommy and the two become an item. The story continues when the trio becomes 18 years old and then again 10 years later. All the while, their fate becomes more and more prevalent to the viewer but almost never to them until it’s too late.

The toughest part about “Never Let Me Go” is having to accept the notion that certain children are raised only to be harvested for their organs. There is no typical sci-fi expository dialogue or other information provided through narrative. At the beginning of the film we are simply told that in the ’50s a cure for all ailments was discovered and that eventually people began living to 100 with ease. Writer Alex Garland deliberately makes the choice to never satisfy our curiosity in hopes that we might focus more on the greater notion of Ishiguro’s novel, which suggests to us what it is that truly makes life meaningful.

Bringing this message home are three of the most gifted young actors working today: Mulligan, Andrew Garfield and Keira Knightley. Knightley has the most experience of the trio, but she demonstrates an ability to act younger than her age quite well. We saw Mulligan do the same in “An Education” and Garfield also possesses a youthful quality (hence why he was cast as Spider-Man). In their expressions and reactions we feel that sense of life unfulfilled, of not truly understanding their lives, their unfortunate purpose and the consequent emotional void they possessed.

That said, these emotions are not easy to relate to and occasionally the romantic subplot takes our attention away from truly processing their emotions. Romanek’s camera gives the film the beauty it needs, but there are dull moments throughout. The pivotal scenes are quieter and brooding, asking us to open our minds more than our hearts in order to truly understand why the story was crafted this way.

Mulligan’s pitch-perfect voice-over dialogue at the end brings some needed clarity to the story and may prompt a second viewing, one less focused on plot and understanding the societal context and more interested in studying character. There’s a beautiful notion about the insignificance of the length of our days, but the lesson doesn’t feel perpetually in progress so much as we’re awakened to it at the end. Nevertheless, the touching performances and delicate craftsmanship make “Never Let Me Go” a decidedly strong film.

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3.5/5 Stars

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Never Let Me Go
Directed by Mark Romanek
Written by Alex Garland, Kazuo Ishiguro (novel)
Starring: Carey Mulligan, Andrew Garfield, Keira Knightley

A harrowing portrait of a teenager forced to be an adult out in the Ozarks, the epicenter of crystal meth activity, “Winter’s Bone” feels more harsh and real than any other film that brief summary evokes. Debra Granik’s film seems unequivocally true, so while I’m sure Daniel Woodrell’s novel paints an extremely accurate portrait of these white rural communities devastated by drug trafficking, there’s no question that Granik’s turned his story into something truly lifelike, not “Hollywood” lifelike.

Nothing in “Winter’s Bone” gets over-dramatized. Even the film’s most jarring events have a modesty about them. Granik prefers to let the characters and the gravity of their situations brood rather than add some extra suspense to get our blood pumping. Throw everything you know about poor white trash drug films out the window as there’s nothing even resembling shock and disgust tactics. We are simply meant to watch Ree Dolly (Jennifer Lawrence) struggle against a number of common and uncommon forces and observe the mostly cold demeanor of those around her whose lives have presumably been battered by drug abuse and peddling.

Jennifer Lawrence makes as big a splash as a 19-year-old possibly could here. She exudes Ree’s confident and responsible attitude. Although Ree possesses a definite naivety, it comes wrapped in a determination and willingness to accept the consequences. She’s in a desperate situation having to take care of her ill and incompetent mother and her two younger siblings, yet she remains self-assured.

The film follows Ree’s mission to find her father at risk of losing her house and being left homeless with her dependent family. Her father has been in and out of prison and missing the last few weeks. The sheriff informs her that if he doesn’t make his court date they’ll take the house to pay bond. The only way she knows to track him is to stick her nose into some dangerous places and she nearly loses it.

Yet “Winter’s Bone” does not uncover the horrors of crystal meth cooking in Central Missouri. The story focuses on Ree and causes us to wonder about those she seeks out in search of her father. We don’t see them engaging in drug use or behaving all that recklessly, but there’s an unspoken seriousness in all of them and consequently fear pervades the film.

Granik beautifully creates a barren, isolated, cold and uncomfortable mood as suggested by the title. The colors of the film are faded and bleak and the performances introspective. One might lament that John Hawkes, who plays Ree’s uncle, never gets to fully flex his dramatic chops despite the underlying tension that could justify an over-the-top scene, but his performance remains powerfully understated. Forced to blend together tones of anger, fear, responsibility and love, Hawkes stirs it up just right as the film slowly plods on.

Those who can appreciate a film that aims mainly to be a character-centered mood piece will find so many beautiful things in “Winter’s Bone” albeit things hard to digest. There’s also nothing completely tragic or gut-wrenching about the film and some might wait the entire time for the lid to burst and never be fully satisfied. Yet there’s no doubt that some wonderful talents assembled this troublesome film and created a mood that will somehow settle with you even if its plot points go forgotten.

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4/5 Stars

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Winter’s Bone
Directed by Debra Granik
Written by Debra Granik and Anne Rosellini, Daniel Woodrell
Starring: Jennifer Lawrence, John Hawkes, Garret Dillahunt, Lauren Sweetser

The second of a handful of planned city-themed vignette films about love, “New York, I Love You” aims to capture a city, its diverse population and theoretically how its people love. In 10 segments with some small transitional scenes, 10 directors attempt to capture a piece of the Big Apple — but the operative word here is “attempt.” Some do, some don’t and all the stuff that tries to blend them together is confusing. It’s very good for the most part individually, but “New York, I Love You” comes up flat on the whole.

Unlike its predecessor, the slightly more well-received “Paris, Je t’aime,” “New York” attempts to blur the divisions between its vignettes. “Paris” was made mostly of scenes set up with title cards telling you the name of the segment and the director and it just moved through them. “New York” puts in these wasted transition scenes that borrow characters from different scenes and mix and match them together in attempt to show some sort of interconnectedness when you don’t feel that way watching the film.

The notable thing about a majority of the segments was a lack of intimacy. For being a film that’s supposed to capture love and love of a city, there were too many vignettes about casual encounters, flirtation, forced relations, things of that nature. They were focused on clever twist endings, not creating portraits. Those that did were the standouts.

Shekhar Kapur’s “Hotel Suite” is the high point in terms of artistry in the film. Although mysterious and a bit unsatisfying at the end, it provokes the most from the viewer with some gorgeous imagery and an insight into what the city means to people from one interesting perspective. Julie Christie plays who appears to be a former New York singer staying in an old hotel she used to visit realizing her dreams are long since past and Shia LaBeouf is the young attendant working there. This segment captures a bit of what New York City used to be, remembers that it has a history, which most of these segments don’t.

Yvan Attal’s segment is also worth mentioning as the film’s funniest scene. In it, Ethan Hawke comically tries to hit on a woman smoking outside who he lights up, explaining how he could sexually please her in ways she probably never imagined. It’s worth stopping to mention that smoke breaks are a big part of this film too, which is odd, in my opinion. Anyway, he clearly makes a heck of an effort to land this girl only it ends with a twist. Hilarious scene, but no sense of the city and of love other than a man’s vain attempts to bed a woman. It would also work better if it were not the only segment focusing on the casual side of romance.

You would also figure New York would play a big part in this film, but it feels more like backdrop. You just don’t get a sense of New York other than its diversity and penchant for promiscuity. Diversity is a crucial element that I’m glad was accented, but missing is the glitz, the glam the feel of NYC that anything’s possible. Buying the rights to use “New York, New York” might have helped even. Other than one little bit I liked in Brett Ratner’s segment where his protagonist, played by Anton Yelchin, says of all the square feet of Central Park and the thousands of method actresses, that his profound moment occurred at a convergence of the two, there’s no sense that a great number of these stories could only happen in New York.

There’s something to like about every little scene of “New York, I Love You,” but it just doesn’t add up to the effect your looking for, or merely celebrate the individual shorts as they are like “Paris, Je t’aime.” I still like the overall concept of these films, only the pieces didn’t fit together all that well for the New York stop on the journey, a shame considering the power of that city.

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3/5 Stars

New York, I Love You
Directed by: Faith Akin, Yvan Attal, Allen Hughes, Shunji Iwai, Wen Jiang, Joshua Marston, Mira Nair, Brett Ratner, Randall Balsmeyer, Shekhar Kapur, Natalie Portman
Written by: (notables) Israel Horovitz, Anthony Minghella, Natalie Portman
Starring: (notables) Bradley Cooper, Natalie Portman, James Caan, Orlando Bloom, Hayden Christiansen, Maggie Q, Chris Cooper, Robin Wright Penn, Shia LaBeouf, Rachel Bilson

Does the independent drama have a formula? “Sunshine Cleaning” is a touching family/relationship drama with a great cast, but there’s also something incredibly familiar about it. For instance, there’s Amy Adams as Rose, a former high school cheerleader now a single mom without a steady paycheck having an affair with a married man (Steve Zahn). What I mean is, Rose Lorkowski is the prototype of the indie protagonist; she’s a lower- middle-class working woman with a boatload of personal issues. As far as independent film characters go, she can get in line, but the difference is clearly the charm of Adams.

As a film, “Sunshine” is a good but basic indie drama that goes as far as its cast will take it. There might not be a more blossoming actress than Adams. She showcased her sweetness in “Enchanted” and channeled that into a sensitive but morally upright nun in “Doubt.” Rose is a natural progression: she’s motivated, but has self-confidence issues. Her sister Nora, played by British actress Emily Blunt, (“The Devil Wears Prada”) is another up-and-comer. Nora is unable to even keep a job and she’s still deeply affected by her mother’s suicide when she was little.

Together, the two go into the crime-scene clean-up business at the recommendation of Rose’s lover, which entails going into people’s homes to clean up bio-hazardous materials. It’s an interesting concept, but instead of expanding on it, rookie writer Megan Holley uses it merely as the vehicle for familial drama and the personal journeys of her characters. The dark humor potential of such a nasty and depressing profession is underutilized, but the story still manages to unfold into an intriguing relationship drama. At that point, it’s all Adams, Blunt and film veteran Alan Arkin as their father, who keep it real and emotional.

Rose and Nora discover more of themselves and what they need in life from their business. They realize what’s been hampering the trajectory of their lives and that family is vital no matter the disagreements. This is nice — and entirely true — but it would’ve been nice to see Holley and director Christine Jeffs take that to the next level instead of settling for those familiar indie characteristics like unresolved family issues and overcoming basic personal obstacles. Instead, we are left to savor the performances of Adams and Blunt as they add gravity and real-world weight to the story.

3.5/5 Stars

Sunshine Cleaning (2008)
Directed by: Christine Jeffs
Written by: Megan Holley
Starring: Amy Adams, Emily Blunt, Alan Arkin, Steve Zahn

There have been tons of films that depict addictive drug abuse, but no film does it quite like Darren Aronofsky in “Requiem for a Dream,” using camera techniques to mess with your mind and visually drive you insane, much like the characters of the film spiral into drug-induced oblivion. The film is not particularly insightful — it is an independent film — whose goal is clearly to make a film that shows drug abuse in a way never done before.

“Requiem” follows essentially four characters whose lives go south because of drugs. There is Harry (Leto) and Tyrone (Wayans), two junkies who turn to selling dope to make a living, Marion (Connelly), Harry’s girlfriend who will do anything for cocaine, and Sara, Harry’s mother, an older, widowed woman who gets selected to be on TV and begins to take pills to suppress her appetite so that she can wear her favorite dress on air. Sara’s story is the most jarring and unique to movie plots and therefore feels distanced from the others, but the technique is what matters in “Requiem” more so than the story itself.

This is Aronofsky’s film from beginning to end. Numerous camera techniques are employed, particularly rapid sequences of close-ups when the characters are doing their drugs of choice. In addition, Aronofsky uses camera mounts on characters at times and even security cameras to capture some scenes in Sara’s storyline. Aronofsky also does various slow downs and speed ups, white fades and more in the editing process that continue to inject director presence into the material. He really experiments with everything with varying degrees of success. 

What makes Aronofsky’s work so great, however, is not the techniques themselves, but how they are allegorical for drug addiction. He feeds them to us in steady and unobtrusive doses at first with the rapid close-ups for the first hour of the film, then as things start to go out of control in the plot, we get more and more abrupt changes in our viewing of the film from camera angles to the edits. It’s brilliant because you can easily enjoy the beginning of the film, but by the end you feel really disturbed by everything and it all happens so quickly. Aronofsky actually psychologically messes with you, successfully.

Other praise for this film goes mostly to Ellen Burstyn as Sara. She’s hauntingly brilliant in showing the gradual turn to insanity. A much deserved Oscar nomination. Leto and Connelly are also good, but this movie is more about how Aronofsky makes them appear rather than how they act.

“Requiem” is really an art film, not a Hollywood-friendly drug movie about the dangers of drugs, but an experiment with the human mind and its ability to be altered by fine director craftsmanship. While there’s no true catharsis in the film, it’s a movie-watching experience in its own little category by itself and worthy of a try if you’re in the mood for something radical.