Local & Repertory
Advanced Style This new documentary, based on the New York street photography and blog of Ari Seth Cohen, salutes well-dressed women of a certain age. (NR)
SIFF Film Center (Seattle Center), 324-9996, siff.net. $7-$12. Opens Fri.
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Beetlejuice If Tim Burton’s later career has proven disappointing, you might beneficially go back to this enjoyable 1988 post-mortem comedy with Michael Keaton, Geena Davis, Alec Baldwin, and Winona Ryder—few of whom have been used so well since. Keaton plays the ghoul renowned for frightening interlopers out of the houses of the dead, and he has a great time doing it. The same is true of Burton’s work here, even though the joy has been slowly draining out of his work ever since. (PG) BRIAN MILLER Central Cinema, 1411 21st Ave., 686-6684, central-cinema.com. $6-$8. 7 p.m. Fri.-Mon.
The Breach Salmon prepared by Tom Douglas precedes the screening of this recent documentary about dam removal and salmon habitat restoration. (NR)
SIFF Cinema Egyptian, 801 E. Pine St., 324-9996, siff.net. $25. 6 p.m. Mon.
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Egyptian Reopening SEE PAGE 20.
Japanese Girls at the Harbor This is a dinner and fundraiser for NWFF, beginning at nearby Shibumi Izakaya restaurant and leading to the screening (at 8 p.m.) of this 1933 silent melodrama, with live musical accompaniment by Aono Jikken Ensemble. The film/music component repeats at 3 p.m. Sunday at SAAM. (NR)
Northwest Film Forum, 1515 12th Ave., 267-5380, nwfilmforum.org. $125. 6 p.m. Sat.
Koch Brothers Exposed Everyone’s favorite politcal villains are the subject of this recent documentary. (NR)
Keystone Church, 5019 Keystone Pl. N., 632-6021, meaningfulmovies.org. Free. 7 p.m. Fri.
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Land Ho! Dr. Mitch is well into his 60s, adult kids gone, divorced, eating dinner alone when we meet him. He won’t admit it, of course, especially to his somber visitor Colin, his former brother-in-law, who carries the weight of post-midlife more heavily. Colin initially seems the guy in need of cheering up, which the earthy, garrulous Mitch makes his mission by taking the two of them to Iceland. Land Ho! is a buddy movie and a road-trip picaresque with an unusual pedigree. It was directed and written (with a healthy dollop of improv) by indie filmmakers Aaron Katz and Martha Stephens; the latter cast her loud, colorful cousin, Earl Lynn Nelson (a non-actor), as Mitch; and the Bellevue-based Australian Paul Eenhoorn actor plays his quiet foil. These old goats are in need of an adventure—through the discos and fashionable restaurants of Reykjavik; out to the remote hot springs and black-sand beaches—and they’re fully aware it could be their last adventure. (“Life is too short to sit still,” says Mitch, who gradually reveals his own problems and need for companionship.) What Nelson and Eenhoorn have is genuine Hope and Crosby–style chemistry, which makes the film so charming. And though Colin quietly protests the overbearing Mitch, we see—thanks to Eenhoorn’s expert performance—how he’s secretly pleased by the attention and reanimated by Mitch’s vulgar vigor. (R) BRIAN MILLER SIFF Cinema Uptown, 511 Queen Anne Ave. N., 324-9996, siff.net. $7-$12. 7 p.m. Mon.
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Live by Night In Jacques Tourneur’s 1947 noir Out of the Past, the deadpan-ironical patter of Robert Mitchum and Kirk Douglas renders each player ultimately unknowable; the plot snakes through so many double-crosses that viewers are left punch-drunk. Weighted by their past crimes, the characters move in Tourneur’s labyrinth with the unnervingly calm detachment of the damned. (NR) ED HALTER Seattle Art Museum, 1300 First Ave., 654-3121, seattleartmuseum.org. $63–$68 series. $8 individual. 7:30 p.m. Thursdays through Dec. 18.
Night Moves Directed by Kelly Reichardt (Old Joy, Wendy & Lucy), the highly anticipated Night Moves stars Jesse Eisenberg, Peter Sarsgaard, and Dakota Fanning as three eco-terrorists determined to bomb an Oregon dam. No thriller, the movie turns out to be a slow and deeply undercharacterized study in alienation. You find yourself rooting for the dam, hoping they’ll blow themselves up instead. (R) BRIAN MILLER SIFF Cinema Uptown, 511 Queen Anne Ave. N., 324-9996, siff.net. $7-$12. 9:15 p.m. Mon.
Particle Fever If nothing else, this documentary confirms something you’ve probably always suspected: Really brilliant physicists are almost exactly as nerdy as the average science-fiction geek. Director Mark Levinson was probably wise to focus on the personalities working on the Large Hadron Collider (LHC), that huge project near Geneva. Their quirkiness allows a human portal into the science behind this massive underground laboratory, which after 20 years of effort went live in 2008 and confirmed important results just last year. We are guided in this journey by a batch of physicists, from esteemed veterans in the field to the puppy-dog enthusiasm of Monica Dunford, who treats the word “data” the way the average person might describe a Powerball jackpot. All of them are pretty much unified in their anxiety over the outcome of the LHC’s evidence. It might show them the future of scientific research, or it might prove they’ve come to a $5 billion dead end. Tonight, the UW’s Anna Goussiou will help you understand why it all matters. (NR) ROBERT HORTON SIFF Cinema Uptown, $7-$12. 7 p.m. Tues.
Seattle Latino Film Festival Chile is the focus of this year’s programming, though countries including Mexico, Argentina, Uruguay, Brazil, Peru, Venezuela, and Cuba are naturally represented with over a dozen documentaries and features. (NR)
Seattle Art Museum, Pacific Place, and other locations. Full schedule, information, and tickets: slff.org. Fri., Oct. 3-Sun., Oct. 12.
Showgirls Paul Verhoeven’s 1995 trash classic is probably due for a remake about now. Or a Broadway musical. (NC-17)
Central Cinema, $6-$8. 9:30 p.m. Fri.-Tues.
Seattle Polish Film Festival Titles in this two-week series, which includes a group of repertory classics selected by Martin Scorsese, include The Saragossa Manuscript, Man of Iron, and A Short Film About Killing. All films are screened with subtitles. (NR)
Northwest Film Forum and other venues. See polishfilms.org for full schedule and ticket information. Sun., Oct. 5-Sun., Oct. 19.
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Event Yadda. (NR)
Details
Ongoing
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Boyhood Richard Linklater’s Boyhood was shot in the director’s native Texas in short bursts over a 12-year period—Linklater knew the shape of the film, but would tweak its script as time marched on, incorporating topical issues and reacting to his performers. This means that unlike most movies, which remake the world and impose an order on it, Boyhood reacts to the world. Protagonist Mason (Ellar Coltrane), tracked from first grade to high-school graduation, is learning that life does not fit into the pleasing rise and fall of a three-act structure, but is doled out in unpredictable fits and starts. Linklater doesn’t reject melodrama so much as politely declines it, opting instead for little grace notes and revealing encounters. Patricia Arquette and Ethan Hawke are terrific as the parents, and Linklater’s daughter Lorelei is distinctive as Mason’s older sister. Other folks come and go, like people do. As we reach the final stages, there’s definitely a sense of rounding off the story, and a few appropriate nods toward lessons learned—the movie’s not as shapeless as it might seem. Let’s also appreciate how Linklater calls for us to reimagine how we might treat movies and childhood: less judgment, less organization, more daydreaming. (R) ROBERT HORTON Sundance
The Drop Dennis Lehane (Mystic River, Gone Baby Gone) adapted this screenplay from a short story, in which two initially unrelated incidents make the plot go: the rescue of a wounded dog and the closing-time robbery of a Brooklyn tavern called Cousin Marv’s. The bartender, Bob (Tom Hardy, late of Locke), is walking home one night when he hears the pathetic mewling of an abandoned pit bull. The abused dog is on the property of Nadia (Noomi Rapace), and these two strangers strike up a friendship around the dog; it is just possible they might be interested in each other. The robbery, meanwhile, puts hapless Cousin Marv (James Gandolfini) in a tight spot; he’s already lost ownership of the bar to Chechen gangsters. We surmise early on that not all is as it seems, and the storyline has some effective revelations along the way. But the painting of a culture is the real draw here; not only are Lehane’s underworld denizens unable to escape, it doesn’t even occur to them to imagine escaping. Bullhead director Michael R. Roskam has his actors sunk into this defeated world: Rapace gives her best English-language performance yet; and Hardy’s soft-spoken turn is another step on the road for this eerie actor. Gandolfini, of course, owns this turf, and the late actor goes out strong—he can suggest a lifetime’s frustration just by the way he shoulders his bulk out of a car. (NR) ROBERT HORTON TK others
The Equalizer Yes, this is a movie nominally inspired by the old ’80s TV show. And yes, it’s essentially a Liam Neeson vehicle instead starring Denzel Washington as a grumpy old samaritan/vigilante/knight errant who defends the weak and defeats the bad guys. It is, down to the R rating and inevitable shot of Washington striding in slo-mo away from an exploding orange fireball (but never looking back, because that is the law with exploding orange fireballs), exactly what you expect. Punctilious old Boston widower McCall (Washington) befriends a teenage Russian hooker (Chloe Grace Moretz), then sets out to destroy both her pimp and a whole platoon of Russian mobsters (Marton Csokas plays their tattooed chief enforcer). The mysterious McCall eventually reveals himself to be a kind of Jason Bourne with an AARP card. And, because he works in a hardware store, you know where the final showdown will take place. Excuse me, Mr. McCall, but in which aisle could I find a nail gun? (R) BRIAN MILLER Kirkland, Bainbridge, Thornton Place, Lincoln Square, Cinebarre, Meridian, others.
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Flamenco, Flamenco Carlos Saura’s 2010 dance doc is a series of individual performances reflecting the state of the art form today, from the traditional to the avant-garde. The structure of the film is quite simple—it’s just a series of numbers, some featuring only musicians or dancers, some more elaborate. Apart from section titles, there’s no description or explanation; the dancing simply speaks for itself. Instead of filming in a studio or a club, Saura built a platform in a soundstage and filled it with portraits of dancers—some from the past, others a figment of his imagination. Vittorio Storaro’s hyper-mobile camera slides through that gallery and around the performers. We rarely get the feeling that we’re watching from a theater seat. Instead we’re right next to the dancers, sometimes the direct focus of their attention. Traditional flamenco is performed in small quarters; Storaro and Saura have found a way to match that intimate feeling. Probably the sweetest moment in the film is an appearance by guitarist Paco de Lucia, who died last year. We’re close enough to see his phenomenal technique, but the rapport he has with the other musicians eclipses the pyrotechnics. Like the others who perform with him, we’re just thrilled to be there (NR) SANDRA KURTZ Varsity
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Guardians of the Galaxy Give thanks to the Marvel gods for Guardians of the Galaxy. If you’ve ever had to suppress a giggle at the sight of Thor’s mighty hammer, this movie will provide a refreshing palate-cleanser. First, understand that the Guardians of the Galaxy tag is something of a joke here; this is a painfully fallible batch of outer-space quasi-heroes. Their leader is an Earthling, Peter Quill (Lake Stevens native Chris Pratt, from Parks and Recreation, an inspired choice), who calls himself “Star-Lord” even though nobody else does. In order to retrieve a powerful matter-dissolving gizmo, he has to align himself with a selection of Marvel Comics castoffs, who will—in their own zany way—end up guarding the galaxy. (His costars, some voicing CGI creatures, are Zoe Saldana, Bradley Cooper, Vin Diesel, and the pro wrestler Dave Bautista.) Director James Gunn (Super) understands that getting character right—and keeping the story’s goals simple—can create a momentum machine, the kind of movie in which one scene keeps tipping giddily over into the next. Guardians isn’t exactly great, but it comes as close as this kind of thing can to creating explosive moments of delight. (PG-13) R.H. TK others
Hector and the Search for Happiness The title of this whimsical though ultimately conventional quest-com spells it out for you. Hector (Simon Pegg) is an upright British shrink with a committed girlfriend named Clara (Rosamund Pike), amusingly eccentric patients, and a very neat apartment. What he needs is an adventure, very much like Tintin, so he embarks on a world tour to find out what makes people happy. (The final answer will be Clara, but you knew that already.) Hector’s travels take him to Shanghai, the Himalayas, Africa, and Los Angeles. En route he meets a gruff business tycoon (Stellan Skarsgård), a gorgeous Chinese woman (Ming Zhou), a Tibetan monk, a drug lord (Jean Reno), an old flame (Toni Collette), and a sage neuroscientist (Christopher Plummer). There’s a lot of talent and international color here, and director Peter Chelsom knows how to use both quite agreeably. Hector is nothing if not agreeable—to a fault, really—though it’s impossible to hate. Hector himself is nice to a fault. Back home, we can understand why impatient Clara keeps shutting off their Skype chats: So much virtue can be a bore. (R) BRIAN MILLER Seven Gables
Jimi: All Is by My Side To its credit, this is an inconclusive, narrowly focused biopic sure to confound fans of Jimi Hendrix. It forgoes his Seattle origins (but for a phone call) and stops short of his global breakthrough at the 1967 Monterey Pop Festival. John Ridley’s movie mostly takes place in a few smoky clubs and rooms in New York and London. Hendrix (a fine Andre Benjamin) himself flits through these rooms like an enigmatic wisp, only a rumor of greatness, a guy who refuses to be pinned down. Underconfident Jimi is still going by Jimmy James, a mere backup player, when Linda Keith (Imogen Poots) talent-spots him in a New York club. Go to London? he asks. That’s like going to the moon or becoming a rock star. Ridley (who earned an Oscar for writing 12 Years a Slave) shows us the good and the bad in Hendrix, the charmer and the brooder, but still one has to ask: If he’s unpacking the myth, putting the microscope to this one short period, what does he hope to reveal? Was playing guitar the most or the least interesting thing about Hendrix? Ridley can’t seem to find a position on that. (R) BRIAN MILLER Sundance
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Love Is Strange Meet Ben (John Lithgow) and George (Alfred Molina), whose cohabitation stretches back long before same-sex marriage was a realistic goal. Their new legal bond means that music teacher George is fired by the Catholic school where he has long worked—everybody there likes him, but they have to obey their bylaws. Manhattan is sufficiently expensive that Ben and George have to give up their place, and financial complications dictate a few months of couch-surfing before they can settle. George moves in with tiresomely younger, hard-partying friends; Ben takes a bunk bed in the home of relatives Kate and Eliot (Marisa Tomei and Darren E. Burrows), who already have their hands full with an awkward teen son (Charlie Tahan). It’s one of those sad situations in which everybody generally means well, but things just aren’t working out. Yet director Ira Sachs (Keep the Lights On), who has charted an intriguing course for himself through the indie world, is confident enough to leave out the expected big scenes and allow us to fill in the blanks. The movie’s about a great deal more than gay marriage, if it is about that. It’s about how nobody has any time anymore; and how great cities have priced ordinary people out of living in them; and how long-nurtured dreams have to be gently refocused. True to Sachs’ style, the movie isn’t designed as an actor’s showcase. We’re not supposed to notice the acting here—just the people. (R) ROBERT HORTON Harvard Exit
Lucy Insofar as playing transcendent thinking/killing machines, Scarlett Johansson is definitely on a roll. Last year she was the omniscient OS Samantha in Her. This spring she was the alien huntress in Under the Skin. Now, in Luc Besson’s enjoyably silly sci-fi shoot-em-up, she’s a young woman whose brain achieves 100 percent of potential, owing to a forced drug-mule errand gone wrong. The bogus conceit that humans only use 10 percent of our cerebellum takes way too long for Besson to advance, with Morgan Freeman’s tedious scientist and nature documentary footage used to amplify his dubious theory. No matter: Lucy is soon learning Mandarin, electrical engineering, mad handgun skills, and Formula One-level driving on the fly. (Telekinesis soon follows, of course.) Her goal, which takes her from Taiwan to Paris, is to track down the other couriers with bags of IQ-growth hormone sewn in their guts and mainline those purple crystals—all for the good of humanity, which she hopes to enlighten before her apotheosis. (Pursuing her is the vengeful drug lord Jang, played by Oldboy’s Choi Min-sik, who wants his stash back.) Beneath the gunfire and philosophical malarky, there is—as in Besson’s best action efforts—a sound sentimental foundation to Lucy. This slacker turned godhead-assassin interrupts her mission to call her mom. “I feel everything. I remember everything,” she says tearfully, describing memories back to infancy. For anyone who’s ever forgotten where they put the car keys, Lucy makes 11 percent seem awfully tempting. (R) B.R.M. TK, others
My Old Lady Set mostly in a fabulous Paris apartment, tis film is based on a play by Israel Horovitz, and no wonder Horovitz (making his feature-film directing debut—at age 75) chose not to open up the stage work; that’s one great pad. A failed-at-everything 57-year-old blowhard named Mathias Gold (Kevin Kline) has arrived in Paris to claim the place, but there’s just one problem. It was purchased by his father, some 40 years earlier, in the French contract called viager, which means the seller gets to live in it until she dies, as the buyer pays a monthly stipend in the interim. And she—in this case 92-year-old Madame Girard (Maggie Smith)—is still very alertly alive. So is her daughter Chloe (Kristin Scott Thomas), and so are various ghosts from the past, many of which come staggering to life as Mathias moves into an empty room and schemes a way to undercut these entrenched ladies. The pace is rocky here, and everybody speaks as though they’re in a play. This is partially mitigated by the fact that if you’re going to have people running off at the mouth, you could do worse than this hyper-eloquent trio. (PG-13) ROBERT HORTON Sundance
The November Man Sometimes a genre needs no excuses. This is not a great movie, nor perhaps even a particularly good one, it’s a straight-up spy picture with distinct attractions. One of those is Brosnan, who makes a much better James Bond now than he did when he actually carried the license to kill. He plays Peter Devereaux, a retired secret agent much surprised when his former apprentice (Luke Bracey) and old boss (bullet-headed Bill Smitrovich) get caught up in a botched rescue mission. It’s all connected to a corrupt Russian politician and Chechen rebels, tied together with an enjoyably wild conspiracy theory. The mystery woman, because there must be one, is a social worker (Olga Kurylenko, recently seen twirling in the nonsense of To the Wonder). The political intrigue distinguishes it from a Liam Neeson vehicle, even if the story line actually pulls a chapter from Taken in its late going. This film’s very lack of novelty is an attribute—it’s neither better nor worse than the average spy flick, and those terms are agreeable to this fan of the genre. (R) R.H. TK others
The Skeleton Twins Maggie and Milo are fraternal twins who are estranged (for 10 years), living on opposite coasts, and seriously depressed for reasons that seem dissimilar but boil down to past family trauma. That Maggie and Milo are played by Kristen Wiig and Bill Hader will get this mediocre dramedy more attention than it deserves. That their performances are good oughtn’t be surprising (the two SNL pros have plenty of experience with the comedy of awkwardness). That their script is so tonally sad-happy yet familiar, one has to attribute to the inexperienced writers (Mark Heyman and Craig Johnson; the latter is a Bellingham native and UW grad who directed the film). Maggie and Milo are catty, sardonic misanthropes, angry at the world because they haven’t lived up to their youthful potential. A failed actor, Milo returns home to New Jersey, where Maggie’s a dental hygienist married to a doofus (Luke Wilson) whom she treats with gentle contempt. There’s also a sex scandal lurking in the past, but the snark bogs down in melodrama, and no amount of ’80s pop montages can really change the film’s predictable trajectory. When even the bitter Maggie can declare “We’re supposed to be there for each other,” you know the cause is lost. (R) BRIAN MILLER Harvard Exit, Sundance
Take Me to the River Filmed in the storied studios of Memphis, this music doc features the studio musicians and stars who helped define the blues and soul sounds of the ’60s and ’70s. And there is enough history here, both musical and social, to fill an entire Ken Burns documentary series. Still, this first directorial effort from Grammy-nominated record producer Martin Shore underserves its subjects, no matter how much he evidently loves them. Take Me to the River is simply too broad, lacking any sort of thesis or narrative thread. While we hear some telling anecdotes and see some rare archival footage cut among current performances (some good, some forgettable), the sum here is far less than its parts. This is mostly due to the film’s structure, built around the the recording of a “historical” album with Memphis players old and young. (It’s a promo flick, in other words.) The doc is segmented into individual sessions, which at times shine with rousing performances from the likes of Charlie Musselwhite and Mavis Staples. But, early on at least, the younger artists get in the way of a film that wants to be focused on history. (NR) MARK BAUMGARTEN Varsity
This Is Where I Leave You The fractious Altman clan gathers for an awkward and altogether irreverent weeklong mourning period (sitting shiva) for its deceased patriarch, at the command of an imperious new widow (Jane Fonda) who wears her conspicuous boob job with blithe pride. All of which greatly discomfits her four grown children. Among them, Corey Stoll is the son who stayed to run the family business; Adam Driver is the ne’er-do-well youngest son who fled to the West Coast; Tina Fey is the unhappily married wife and mother, also visiting; and Jason Bateman is the New York radio producer whose marriage just imploded (not that he’s telling anyone, not just now, not on this trip, no way). There’s a lot of ground to cover in this cluttered adaptation of Jonathan Tropper’s 2009 novel (he did the adaptation), directed with no great subtlety by Shawn Levy, who helmed all those wildly popular, family-friendly Night at the Museum movies. There are moments that work well here. Fey shows tender lost love for her old boyfriend (Timothy Olyphant), a guy who never left town owing to an accident; how culpable she was, the script is reluctant to spell out. Driver, of Girls, brings a welcome jolt of energy to a feckless, underwritten character. On the whole, however, Levy is fatally wed to a formula of tears, outbursts, wise counsel, and reconciliation—repeated often. (R) BRIAN MILLER SIFF Cinema Uptown, others
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The Trip to Italy Director Michael Winterbottom reunites with Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon for another eating-kvetching tour, this time ranging from Rome to Capri and the Amalfi coast. Coogan and Brydon are playing caricatures of themselves (who also co-starred in Winterbottom’s 2005 Tristram Shandy), not quite frenemies and not quite BFFs: two guys anxious about their personal and professional standing at midlife. Joking about the classical past and the stars of Hollywood’s golden age, they constantly worry how they’ll rate against the greats. Though it didn’t occur to me when I saw the movie during SIFF, their constant nattering about the permanence of art versus the fleeting pleasures of the now makes them fellow travellers with Toni Servillo in The Great Beauty. He could almost be their tour guide, and they need one. Now I grant you that newbies may find less to appreciate in the dueling Roger Moore impressions and crushed hopes of middle age. This is not a comedy for the under-40 set. Still, the gorgeous locations and food may inspire happy travels of your own. Go while you’ve got time remaining. (NR) B.R.M. Crest
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20,000 Days on Earth Nick Cave awakes on a mundane note in his Brighton bedroom. “I wake, I write, I eat, I write,” he says in his disquieting drawl. Yet as an equal partner in this quasi-documentary project with filmmakers Iain Forsyth and Jane Pollard, he divulges only so much about himself: Neither his life story nor his philosophy are easily understood. Rather, this is both a biographical sketch and a fanciful promotional art film, which documents the recording and live performance of 2013’s acclaimed Push the Sky Away. Throughout, Cave maintains his deadpan, oblique sensibility. 20,000 Days even puts Cave on the therapist’s couch to tease out his story. During this extended scene—shot, like the entire film, in a flattering and dramatic light that gives Cave’s universe a fittingly crisp and sinister air—we learn some secrets (unless they’re more of Cave’s fictions). Asked what he most fears, he replies, “Losing my memory”—and that’s likely the film’s most important notion: The past informs all his writing. (NR) MARK BAUMGARTEN Grand Illusion
