Not a lot of time available for movies this weekend, so there isn’t much to say tonight.

So, here is what I watched this weekend:

SEVEN BEAUTIES

An Italian mobster finds himself trapped in a German concentration facility after a disquieting series of events led him into military service and then into the hands of German soldiers. The title Seven Beauties refers to lead character Pasqualino Frafusso’s (Giancarlo Giannini) nickname in the film. As he describes it himself, he has not the handsome countenance, but still manages to be attractive to women. And its his ability to survive and charm that keeps him moving forward toward safety even if it’s through the darkest and most dangerous times.

The film is told in two separate stories, on in the present and one told in flashback. Both move forward through the film. The present-tense story begins as Pasqualino, having escaped from a train in peril, is attempting to flee through the German countryside with an associate he meets in the darkness after his liberation. The film then flashes back to mobster Pasqualino and his altercation with his older sister who is being turned into a whore by the man she loves. When he kills her lover and attempts to get away with it, he is caught by the police, confesses but pleads insanity and is put into an asylum. From there, his only way out is to become a soldier for Italy. Back in the present, shortly after stealing bread, cheese and wine from a wealthy German homeowner, Pasqualino and his friend are caught by German soldiers and pushed into a concentration camp where they are treated poorly and provided with little impetus to live but even less help to survive. Yet Pasqualino must survive. It’s in his nature and how he manages to save his own neck is the film’s most disturbing element.

One of the most interesting things about the film is the structure of the parallel time periods. The present-tense segments are short at the beginning and grow in length until they dominate the latter half of the film. In reverse, the flashbacks monopolize the first half of the film and then diminish in length through the end. And the final scene, designed like the flashbacks, but purportedly taking place in the present, almost seems too idyllic and hopeful, suggesting that perhaps what we’re witnessing is a flashforward of desire and not an embodiment of reality. However, we are allowed to assume that it is the resolution, because it will allow us to feel satisfied and content that our protagonist has survived even if he has not.

Giancarlo Giannini is overzealous and bombastic, which somewhat fits his character. Despite feeling clownish and over-exaggerated, he plays the part quite well. I haven’t seen many of his performances, but this is certainly the best of the ones I’ve so far seen. Ermelinda De Felice as his mother, Fernando Rey as the fellow prisoner and anarchist, Piero Di Iorio as his soldier comrade, and Francesca Marciani as his love are all good, but the best supporting performance comes from Shirley Stoler as the stoic German Commandant whom he attempts to seduce in order to save his own neck, but who ends up providing the film’s key social comment, exploring her country’s only failure to create a master race when compared to the undying spirit of Pasqualino. And although Pasqualino is Italian and the film seems heavily tilted towards representing the emotional and survival strength of the Italian people, its easy to see that Pasqualino also represents human kind. A desire for self preservation can often drive our civilization to break out and succeed instead of being ground under the bootheels of our oppressors.

The Academy has had a long fascination with Holocaust films, even ones of questionable quality, so it’s no surprise that Lina Wertmuller rode her somewhat unconventional Italian saga into the record books to become the first woman ever nominated for a Best Director Oscar. Not that we should discount her achievement, for Seven Beauties succeeds mostly under her eye for composition and story. The film moves quickly without feeling rushed and seldom lets the audience breathe without giving them something new to observe.

There are two elements of the film that either kept me distracted or grated on my nerves. The first is the endless opening credits scene with a terrible song performed intentionally badly. While the lyrics are modestly interesting and play into the film’s themes nicely, the awfulness of the singing and the repetitive “Oh yeah” refrain quickly infuriated me. And when that style was repeated over the film’s closing, it reminded me of how much I hated it, despite having almost forgotten it. The second element that was distracting and, I don’t know if this was the DVD transfer or not, was the inability of the spoken dialogue to match the lip movements of the actors. Although I spent much of my time reading the subtitles, it was frequently clear that there was no aural connection between the actors and the soundtrack. On top of that, attempting to speed read a two hour film is a bit frustrating. Several scenes had interminable dialogue that seldom slowed and by the time you were grateful it had given you a breather, a new scene began. Yet, in spite of that, the dialogue is so crucially important to the film that I would be hard-pressed to find somewhere to cut it.

Seven Beauties is very much a product of the 1970s. Made in a period of cinematic expressionism and experimentation, the film helps define not only the kind of American output we had become accustomed to, but also the worldwide spike in quality that expanding freedoms of speech provided made for a wonderful era. It’s a movie that feels like part of the period, but manages to retain much of its social importance in a modern cinematic environment.

THE AMERICAN

George Clooney expands his impressive array of features with this dark film about an accomplished American assassin attempting to retire, but agreeing to perform one last job before fading into the background.

The film opens with a snowy shootout between two hired guns trying to take Clooney’s Jack out, but end up dead in the process. The problem is that love of his life was walking in the snow with him. And his code requires that any who witness him in action be disposed of. So, afterwards, he contacts his “dispatcher” who provides a place for him to lay low in Italy while he arranges a final assignment: fulfilling a request for a made-to-order sniper rifle with silencer.

Stuck in this quiet Italian village, Jack does what he has always been trained not to do: make friends. The first is a considerate Catholic priest who takes Jack under his wing and attempts to help absolve and cleanse Jack’s soul. Jack pretends not to believe or care, but when the two have conversation, a subtle plaintive quality appears and the observant will understand that he has to seek forgiveness for himself without revealing anything about his life and career. His second acquaintance is that of a local whore with big ambitions and plans who works as a prostitute in order to save up enough money to break away from it all and go to college. Despite being one of her clients, he develops strong feelings for her, transferring the love he had for his last paramour to this new vessel. Yet, he remains conflicted on whether to attempt to push for some measure of happiness once he’s finished with his final assignment or abandon her so that she may live in case something should ever happen like before.

The film itself labors across its two-hour length, though it’s not without necessity. Films that explore complex emotional and psychological questions shouldn’t be rushed too much. And when you have action sequences built in, it’s nice to see how they are handled without all the quick edits, shaky cameras and excessiveness. Director Anton Corbijn realizes the gravity of his subject matter and permits the audience to take in every detail and explore the theme without the interference of unnecessary action film tropes.

And while a performance like the one delivered by Clooney can be obtained from an under-written film, this one seems to give the audience just enough information to process the events while allowing them to get drawn into Jack’s life, understand who Jack is and who he has been without undue outside influence. The audience isn’t force-fed information, which allows an actor like Clooney to charm the viewer and create the character with glances, tics and long silences. Clooney brings you into Jack’s complex psyche and his tortured convictions trying to separate his two lives without causing either irreparable harm.

The American is not a grand James Bond-style spy adventure. It’s not a convoluted, self-involved thriller. It’s a simple, understated character drama featuring a great actor at work doing what he does best.

MONSIEUR VERDOUX

After the collapse of the silent era, Charlie Chaplin was not easily able to transition into the talkies. Despite having an interesting voice, his style of comedy was no longer desired. The likes of The Three Stooges and Abbott and Costello had replaced not only Chaplin’s brand of humor, but also that of Buster Keaton, Harold Lloyd and others.

Still, Chaplin chose his post-silent projects well, and they have been well received. One of those films, Monsieur Verdoux, tries to revive some elements of his comedy schtick by blending them into a non-mysterious murder mystery and then tucking in some social commentary along with it. Verdoux tells the story of a con man trying to make a living for his family by marrying rich women and then disposing of their bodies. His success has been long lived, but the members of one of his victim’s families are intent on bringing down the man who took their relation away from them and who hasn’t been heard from since. While he’s attempting to make his living, constantly one step ahead of the police and all would-be pursuers, Verdoux meets a kind young woman who has recently gotten out of prison and is looking to start her life anew and help her invalid husband survive. He takes mercy on her before returning to his latest plan, to test the effectiveness of a new untraceable poison which will make his schemes more feasible and potentially profitable.

It’s hard to judge a film that tries so frequently to mix in sight gags that worked in Chaplin’s silent films, but which seem out of place in the days of sound production. The dialogue in the film isn’t particularly astute, but the cleverness of Verdoux’s various schemes provide a well above average script. The performances are a bit haphazard. Apart from Chaplin, the actors seem to be building their characters on a one-dimensional premise and not developing them into ones we care much for. Yet Chaplin does a generally strong, though occasionally uneven job. When he’s lamenting or scheming, he works his magic, but every time he stops the film to do another silent bit, you’re dragged from the entertainment.

It’s very hard to judge a movie like Monsieur Verdoux. It’s unnecessary tethers to an absent era of filmmaking distract the audience from a potentially compelling narrative. A man trying to make a living for his wheelchair-bound wife and young daughter has the potential for poignancy and you get a sense of that throughout; and despite the despicable methods Verdoux employs, he remains a sympathetic character. It’s a film that will certainly divide different types of people and it’s almost impossible to categorize it in such a way as to find the right person to which it can be recommended.

LET ME IN

The Swedish novel Låt den rätte komma in was the basis for the critically acclaimed Swedish horror film Let the Right One In and both are inspirations for the American adaptation called more simplistically Let Me In.

The story revolves around a bullied young high school kid, Owen (Kodi Smit-McPhee) who meets a mysterious young girl in the snow-covered playground of his apartment complex. Abby (Chloe Grace Moretz) has just arrived in town and moved in next door to Owen. They develop a strong relationship while chatting in the courtyard, Owen revealing the problems he’s going through at school while she remains cagey about her life and her background. When she finally reveals herself as a vampire, Owen must come to grips with the revelation and decide if he will continue his friendship with her or go back to his miserable life.

Matt Reeves, who directed the horror let down Cloverfield, helms this unneeded adaptation, continuing the trend of American producers hoping to strike gold with a foreign-to-American adaptation. They may never again find another The Ring, but that doesn’t seem to stop them from trying. This time they are not shy about their desires and are attempting to take the celebrated Swedish film and update it for U.S. audiences, removing the key plot development that made the original so much more evocative. Instead, you have a more mainstream and whitewashed horror flick that lacks the suspense possessed by the original.

The movie does have a few positive elements. The photography is rich and the performances are strong. Smit-McPhee and Moretz both do terrific jobs conveying solitude, loneliness and longing. And while Smit-McPhee is the better of his Swedish counterpart, Kåre Hedebrant, who seemed to be more brooding; comparing Moretz and Lina Leandersson (who played Eli in the original) is a bit more difficult. While I have Moretz’s good performance in Kick-Ass as a reference to the quality of actress, I don’t have an equal comparison for Leandersson, but for the charcater in question, I have to give Leandersson the edge simply because I connected more with her character in Let the Right One In and was more quickly able to get the loneliness in her character and developed a more compassionate connection to her plight. But Moretz is still a strong second and with Smit-McPhee show that at least the film did well with casting. Richard Jenkins, who plays Abby’s “father”, doesn’t connect with the audience. You don’t feel much of a connection between “father” and “daughter” and his bumbling attempts to collect blood for her aren’t all that impressive or exciting.

While the original film also touched briefly on some of the lives surrounding them, including some friends of one of Eli’s victims, this film seems to focus in too tightly on Owen and Abby’s relationship. They are the central figures of the film, but they are too exclusively centralized. One of the best things about Let the Right One In was that it also gave an idea of the society, companionship and culture necessary to explain why such an unusual relationship might develop between these two people. It isn’t solely the fact that they are alone or that they face ostracizing, but their culture demands that they have friends. The people around them develop these kinds of relationships almost organically. You don’t get that impression with this adaptation.

I wouldn’t recommend Let Me In to anyone who was an ardent fan of the original. The discrepancies aren’t too serious, but when you stick so closely to the original, your work begins to feel derivative. Many of the scenes, shots and designs are lifted directly from Let the Right One In, which makes you wonder what the purpose of such an endeavor is. And since we already know (and I’ve referenced it above anyway), then saying much more would be academic. So, if you don’t feel like watching something with subtitles, then you’re missing out on a great film. And since I wouldn’t recommend you pick up this film without first appreciating the original, I won’t end up recommending Let Me In at all.

PSYCH, season 4

I pushed through the final episodes of this series and I began to miss the first season badly. Although the theme episodes are more entertaining than some of the non-themed ones, the show seems to have lost its focus as its progressed. Instead of focusing on outlandish situations, the show seems to be settling into a more mundane formula. Each episode has little lenience in terms of structure, which makes for a sometimes frustrating, but still enjoyable experience. The last episode of season four keyed into the successes of the last two episodes of season three and not only delivered again on the Yin-Yang killer motif of the final episode, but added in the carefree horror homage of the previous. This time, we’re treated to several Alfred Hitchcock tributes and a surprise revelation that suggests even more of this storyline to be developed in the fifth season.

DEAD LIKE ME, complete

This series, produced on Showtime for two seasons in 2003 and 2004, had a tumultuous production cycle including creative differences between the producers and creator Bryan Fuller, a mid-season replacement and an abortive 2008 telefilm reboot. Dead Like Me tells the story of Georgia Lass (Ellen Muth), an 18-year-old drop-out who’s killed by a toilet seat from the Mir space station plummeting to earth. Upon her death, she rises as a Grim Reaper, an undead representative of Death who must seek out souls that are about to die and pull their souls from their bodies before the trauma of death and then guide those souls to an understanding of their new state.

She is not alone as a Reaper and is joined by father figure Rube (Mandy Patinkin) who assigns his band their targets on yellow Post-It Notes, a drug-addicted thief named Mason (Callum Blue), a bitchy meter maid and later cop (Jasmine Guy), and a feisty woman who takes pictures of her victims (Rebecca Gayheart). Gayheart was replaced after five episodes with Laura Harris who played a film actress who made the rounds of Hollywood by giving blow jobs to famous people.

The show was clearly a dark comedy, featuring creative deaths from the fantastical to the phantasmagorical. The story predominantly focused on George’s coming of age as she learns about life and experience long after she should have. Throughout the show she must wrestle with her desire to cling to her life even though they can no longer see her. She watches from the outside as her little sister (Britt McKillip), who she regrettably ignored), her mother (Cynthia Stevenson) and her father (Greg Kean) cope with George’s untimely death and their own recriminations and reproaches of themselves and each other. It’s an interesting parallel the show establishes early, but which almost becomes too defining as the series goes on. The coping process is drawn out for narrative value, but becomes somewhat frustrating into the second season.

A precursor to Fuller’s more vibrant comedy Pushing Daisies, Dead Like Me features all of his characteristic dark humor and is quite funny in places, though it does lose a touch of its luster after his departure from the show. The show isn’t a hot bed of brilliant performances, but its entertaining, engaging and engrossing at times. Although it never really got the lengthy run it probably deserved, the few episodes that exist are a terrific bit of escapism when you’re needing something of a pick-me-up even if it contains a dollop of depression.