Movie Reviews

An eccentric junkyard comedy from France

Dany Boon as lovable child-man Bazil.  (Sony Pictures Classics)

Micmacs 

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Running time: 104 minutes

MPAA rating: R (some sexuality and brief violence)

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"Micmacs"

Gadget-filled movies can be tricky to pull off.  Spend too much time showing the click-clack movements and the playful tone of even a merry little film can become lost.

That's not a problem for French filmmaker Jean-Pierre Jeunet.  Offbeat forms the center, not the edge, for most cinematic dazzlements from the writer-director of "Delicatessen" in 1991, "The City of Lost Children" in 1995 and the Oscar-nominated gem "Amélie" in 2001.

In French with subtitles, "Micmacs" beautifully blends Jeunet's love for the eccentric and the outrageous.  Dany Boon, the gifted French star of  "The Valet," hops in Jeunet's freakish rumble seat as gentle-but-vengeful Bazil and scores another winner.

Oddly, Boon wasn't even supposed to appear in "Micmacs."  Jeunet and writing partner Guillaume Laurant penned the role with Jamel Debbouze ("Indigènes") in mind.  Debbouze bowed out shortly before shooting was to begin.  Boon hesitated at first (turned down the role, actually), then was lured back in.

Thank goodness he did.  Boon turns in a flawless performance as a man who has been victimized twice by weapons of single destruction.  When he was a child, his father was taken from him by a land mine.  As an adult, Bazil takes a stray bullet to the head while minding a video store and watching Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall in "The Big Sleep."

If you know Jeunet's refreshing, anything-goes style, it won't surprise you that doctors flip a coin in the operating room to decide Bazil's slim hope of survival.  For those unfamiliar with the filmmaker's playful nature of life's serious moments and those dealing with them, just go along with the absurdity and you're likely to quickly become a fan.

There's a little Charlie Chaplin and more than a little Buster Keaton in Boon's turn.  Bazil is a comic tragic figure.  Yet even though life keeps dealing him near-death blows, Bazil takes life one child-like wide-eyed moment at a time.

Fate brings him into a circle of junkyard dealing scavengers who take him in.  When Bazil happens upon the feuding weapons manufactures responsible for his unfortunate circumstances, the obscure skills of his foraging friends (Jean-Pierre Marielle as Slammer, Julie Ferrier as Elastic Girl, etc.) come into play as Jeunet rolls out the gadgets and shifts gear into a con man caper.

Leave it to the wonderfully creative Frenchman to come up with a way to involve a human cannonball in a comic sting operation.

The acting is inspired.  The story oozes creativity and a macabre comic tone.  Granted, the final reel may be a little too gimmicky for some at times.

That's merely a slight "Micmacs" nitpick.

Third time a charming 'Toy Story' too

Woody (Tom Hanks) chats escape strategy with Chatter Telephone (Teddy Newton).  (Walt Disney Pictures)

Toy Story 3

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Running time: 102 minutes

MPAA rating: G (general audiences)

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"Toy Story 3"

Well, kids of all ages, there's still plenty of entertainment giddyup left in Woody's pull-string.

"Toy Story 3" defies the usual second-sequel doldrums with a rousing story and spirited, lovable characters, as well as a sweet-talking villain in the form of a cuddly teddy bear that smells like strawberries.

The 11-year gap between the second "Toy Story" and this one evaporates the instant a frolicsome blend of computer animated characters both familiar and new launch an emotional adventure that, believe it or not, pushes Woody, Buzz Lightyear and pals to the brink of fiery toy hell, a.k.a. the furnace at the city dump.

The first "Toy Story" arrived in 1995 with the impact of last year's "Avatar."  John Lasseter and his creative geniuses over at Pixar altered the animation universe with mind-boggling technology.  Woody (voiced by Tom Hanks), Buzz (Tim Allen), Mr. Potato Head (Don Rickles) and the rest of a boy named Andy's pals rolled out of the cinematic toy box as the first full-length animated feature created entirely in a computer (CG) by artists.

The challenge this time for Lasseter and his Pixar staff, who now create under the Disney banner, was to tone done today's advanced computer technology.  The goal, achieved grandly, I might add, was for the 21st century versions of Andy's toy box pals to maintain the original tone of movement.

That accomplished, Lasseter (executive producer this time after directing the first two) and director Lee Unkrich (co-director of "Toy Story 2") sought to continue the exhilarating combination of action-adventure, comedy and heartfelt feelings.

The story, conceived by Lasseter, Unkrich and "WALL-E" writer-director Andrew Stanton, dips high and low on the emotional roller coaster.   Andy, once again voiced by John Morris, is 17 and packing for college.  What to do with his childhood pals?  Trash 'em or box them up for the attack his mom (Laurie Metcalf) dictates.

There's a mix-up and all the toys except Woody are set out with the trash.  This is the point where the latest "Toy Story" moves beyond quirky to something a little darker than you will expect from a PG rating.  Michael Arndt, an Academy Award winner for his edgy "Little Miss Sunshine" screenplay, sends Woody and the gang off to Sunnyside Daycare.

It appears perfect  at first.  Rex (Wallace Shawn), cowgirl Jessie (Joan Cusack) and the rest haven't been given playtime attention in years.  But Lotso (Ned Beatty), the deceivingly sweet-sounding teddy bear in charge, wants to throw the new arrivals in the path of what a battered Buzz Lightyear later refers to as "inappropriate age behavior."

Levity balances the weight of the adventure at times.  And never better than when Barbie (Jodi Benson) meets Ken (Michael Keaton) and falls head-over-high, high heels for a guy who appears to be nothing more than a Barbie fashion accessory. (And a light-in-the-loafers one at that.)

Know this, though, parents:  Arndt pushes this tale into dangerous plot turns.  In fact, he presses it into dark areas where probably almost any other scribe writing for kids would back off.

Thankfully, Lasseter and his computer gurus embrace the dangerous story curves and pepper them with delightful and frightful new toys.  My personal favorite is the ominous cymbal-clanging monkey in charge of Sunnyside security.

"Toy Story 3" may be a little too scary for very little kids.  Otherwise, the magic is back for an unprecedented third time.

'Joan Rivers' peels away celebrity layers

Joan being Joan.  (IFC Films)

Joan Rivers --

A Piece of Work

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Running time: 84 minutes

MPAA rating: R (profanity, sexual  humor)

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"Joan Rivers -- A Piece of Work"

"Oh, oh, can we talk?"

That Joan Rivers signature line never pops up in the soul-rattling documentary "Joan Rivers -- A Piece of Work."  Instead, we get the most obsessed, success-driven 76-year-old you'll likely ever meet with all pretense peeled away.

That, in itself, is astonishing news.  To many casual observers, Joan Rivers represents the exact opposite, a symbol of repeated plastic surgeries to hide, or at least fend off, the reality of aging.

Yet in front of the camera of directing and producing partners Ricki Stern and Annie Sundberg ("The Devil Came on Horseback," "The Trials of Darryl Hunt"), Rivers arrives and struggles to survive the treacherous, shark-infested show biz waters as an unabashed 76-year-old with more drive than most twentysomethings.

I'll reveal right up front that I arrived at the "Joan Rivers -- A Piece of Work" screening with high anticipation.  Not because I was primed for live performances and acerbic zingers from the "grand dame" of female comedians (Phyllis Diller might have something to say about that), but because it promised a rare behind-the-scenes look.

I was not disappointed.  Perhaps stunned a little, at times, but hardly left wanting for insight into Rivers in her 76th year.  That was 2009, a year when the couch potato public saw the determined show biz warrior survive even her own daughter Melissa to take the Season 2 winner's prize on Donald Trump's NBC reality  TV series "The Celebrity Apprentice."

The most revealing moments for me come when Rivers allows cameras into her opulent home.  She's in tears because her beloved dog has just died, or she reveals a mostly event-less performance calendar; a kiss of near-death for any performer.  Yet Rivers, a gifted comic who still longs to be taken seriously as an actress, is best summed up by a booking agent who gets to the pulsating heart of Rivers' drive:

"Joan Rivers will stand out in the rain longer than anyone else waiting for lightning to strike.  After everyone else has given up and gone inside, she's still out there in the rain.  Waiting."

That's the heart and soul of "Joan Rivers -- A Piece of Work," the most informatory backstage documentary I've ever had the pleasure of barely enduring.

 

"Comedian, the 2002 documentary with a self-absorbed title, chronicled Jerry Seinfeld’s return to stand-up comedy.  But it just scratched the surface of a comic’s self-doubt and anger compared to this.

 

Oh, oh, can we talk?

Trouble, any way you 'Splice' it

Dren (Delphine Chanéac) checks out her new surroundings.  (Warner Bros. Pictures)   

Splice 

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Running time: 103 minutes

MPAA rating: R (disturbing elements including strong sexuality, nudity, sci-fi violence and profanity)

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"Splice"

As creature features go, "Splice" spills blood on the intelligent end of the sci-fi/horror/thriller scale.

Highbrow or not, the fear factor pegs the red into mayhem when an unauthorized experiment mixing human and animal DNA bursts out of control like Frankenstein's monster stomping through the countryside after a jolt of captured lightning.  

Director/co-writer Vincenzo Natali is correct when he refers to "his baby" as a genetic Frankenstein monster movie.  The question is whether or not such a thing is worth our time and money.  The answer is yes, especially for those who enjoy slightly futuristic semi-possibility eeriness in the cinematic dark.

Note to unsuspecting movie-goers:  Know that things are bound to get messy in any sci-fi thriller story that begins with benign blobs.

Natali, who hit with the mystery sci-fi thriller "Cube" in 1997, probably wouldn't attract lead actors like Adrien Brody and Sarah Polley if "Splice" had little to offer as a jolt to both the gut and the brain.

Genetic engineers Clive Nicole (Brody) and Elsa Kast (Polley), a couple in and out of the lab coats, are the darlings of the scientific community.  And why shouldn't they be after creating the aforementioned DNA masses nicknamed Fred and Ginger.

When the public display turns into a cozy waltz, Clive and Elsa launch their own secret experiment to introduce human DNA into the mix.  As we'll all find out later, though, Fred and Ginger know more than one dance.

From this aisle seat, Brody, an Academy Award winner for "The Pianist" in 2003, and Polley, a double-threat as filmmaker ("Away From Her") and actress ("My Life Without Me"), don't spark a great deal of on-screen chemistry.

The story is so compelling, though, and oftentimes oddly goofy that it's no use fighting it when the creature Dren is "born" and begins to draw us into one of the creepiest creature-features in years.

Brody, of course, has taken on monsters with some degree of intelligence before.  He had a go with the big gorilla in the remake of "King Kong" in 2005.  As I recall, though, Brody's character was never approached romantically by the creature in that one.

"Splice" is more sophisticated in visual effects than you might expect from an indie picked up by a major movie studio (Warner Bros.).  Natali continues to impress as a filmmaker of the macabre.  The creature, which quickly matures from a gnarly glob to semi-sensual teen, then adult, is full of mutating surprises.

Without giving too much away, let's just say that Dren, portrayed in adult form by budding French actress Delphine Chanéac ("The Pink Panther" remake), is one wild mutating mama.

And that's barely the half of it.

The year's finest relationship drama so far

 

Karen (Annette Bening) enduring a sad life of regret.  (Sony Pictures Classics)

Mother and Child

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Running time: 126 minutes

MPAA rating: R (profanity, extreme adult situations, nudity)

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"Mother and Child"

Every year, it seems, a quality film packing an emotional wallop no one expected comes along to knock film-goers for a loop.

Last year it was "Precious," the gritty drama of a teenager ravaged by relatives and her environment.  Before that, "Slumdog Millionaire" took us to India and the dichotomy of back alley slums and a crooked, but glitzy TV game show.

There may be other well-conceived gems coming along in 2010.  For now, though, my money is on "Mother and Child," an edgy drama with the emotional juice of "Precious" served with a wry, cruelly comic "Six Feet Under" kicker.

Writer-director Rodrigo Garcia, who directed a half dozen "Six Feet Under" episodes (as well as "The Sopranos"), began, he has said, with a notion of  two strangers who longed for each other.  He lights up his screen with a kick-in-the-gut drama about three women all deeply affected with adoption.

In the most creative opening credits I've seen in a while, a 14-year-old girl shyly kisses a boy.  Before the credits conclude, she has gotten pregnant, given birth and given up her child by adoption.  

Without any fanfare whatsoever, Garcia cuts to a 50-year-old woman startled out of her sleep.  Karen (Annette Bening) has spent 37 years regretting the choice to give her baby away.  Irritable and difficult to reach, even when it comes to her elderly mother (Eileen Ryan), Karen writes vigorous letters that will never be mailed to the daughter she has never known.

Garcia, born in Colombia but who grew up in Mexico, is no slouch when it comes to writing strong scenes about women.  "Nine Lives" featured nine women at crossroads of their lives in 2005.  "Mother and Child" hones in on three.

In addition to Bening, a three-time Oscar nominee ("Being Julia," "American Beauty," "The Grifters") and one of the finest actresses of her generation, Naomi Watts heats up the screen with calculating sexual exploits.  She also chills it with moments of cold, playful devious emotional maneuvering.

Watts, an Academy Award nominee for "21 Grams" in 2003, takes on Elizabeth, a sharp lawyer who glides through life like a ravenous shark.  No one in Elizabeth's path is safe, and that includes her decidedly older, widowed law firm boss (Samuel L. Jackson) and two overly nosy neighbors.  

Elizabeth has a festering hole in her soul.  She was given up at birth and has spent her life taking it out on those around her.

The third central woman character, Lucy (Kerry Washington, good two years ago in "Lakeview Terrace"), is looking to adopt a baby.  She's eager and her husband  (David Ramsey) says he's keen on the idea.  But trouble is festering there as well.

There's one tiny hiccup in Garcia's script.  And it's a minor one.  Unless the various elements in this Los Angeles-set heart-breaking (at times) drama don't exactly follow the same time line, two key dates are slightly out of sync.

Otherwise, "Mother and Child" dazzles not only as a tale of women in crisis, but as the gripping story of modern-day relationships in an ever-changing society.

Film critics learn early on that false moments, those deviations of the parameters set by the story or characters, will take them out of a movie.  

"Mother and Child," one of the finest movies of the year so far, has none.

Acting, blazing action a blast in 'Iron Man 2'

"I am Iron Man."
(Industrial Light & Magic/Marvel)

Iron Man 2

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Running time: 124 minutes

MPAA rating: PG-13 (profanity, intense sci-fi action, violence)

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"Iron Man 2"

The only problem with the first "Iron Man" two years ago was that director Jon Favreau fell into the trap of action extravaganza overkill.  The ultimate battle finale felt like it had more chapters than "War and Peace."

Favreau has learned his lesson.  "Iron Man 2," which rocks with pulsating action and outstanding acting (a rare combination), builds to a spectacular crescendo, then ends on an emotional human note.

In fact, the sequel takes a cue from comic book hero and competitor Superman.  The Man of Steel liked to whisk Lois Lane suddenly skyward and then park on a rooftop for a flirty, "Go ahead, kiss her" chat after the bombastic dust settled.

Screenwriter Justin Theroux's feature film debut came in the outrageously funny "Tropic Thunder," which drew Downey an Oscar nomination.  He takes some chances here that work, like letting this film's lead character get drunk and shame himself with birthday party angry rant.  From a bottom-out low often comes a rise to great heights, however.  Theroux's script manages that. 

"I am Iron Man," billionaire industrialist and former weapons dealer Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.) proclaims during a press conference that comes at the end the first "Iron Man" and launches the sequel.  You're in for a robust two hours of "Holy s%#*!" action sequences, dandy performances and witty, if at times silly, dialogue.

Six months after the first adventure, admittedly egocentric Stark is flaunting his wealth, his "peacemaker" iron suit with rockets in the heels and his need for flaunting applause at Stark Expo.  His late father put on a similar chest-thumping dog and pony show first, looking a little like vintage Walt Disney talking about Tomorrowland.  Tony's flashy reboot, however, more closely resembles a slightly larger-than-life version of Apple CEO Steve Jobs bestowing the iPad on the world.

The government wants to take Stark's invention away.  So Stark proclaims to the Senate Armed Services Committee (with Garry Shandling chewing the scenery as Sen. Stern) that no possible threat exists that can rival Iron Man, so chill, America.  

Pretty soon after that, a Russian named Ivan Vanko (Mickey Rourke) whips up a lightning-whip knock-off version of the Iron Man technology and off we go into grand adventure.

Rourke, nominated for a Best Actor Academy Award in 2009 as the washed-up modern day gladiator in "The Wrestler," is perfectly cast as a vengeful Russian who's way smarter than he looks.

Vanco constantly chews on a toothpick, even when he's slicing race cars apart at the Monaco Grand Prix or plotting Stark's demise.  The camera loves Rourke's craggy face, and the veteran actor -- a survivor of good times and bad -- is rivaled by only one other toothpick chewer in the history of cinema.  That's Paul Newman.

"Iron Man 2," not unlike Stark's flashy computer gadgets, unlimited resources and, of course, the red-and-gold supersuit, borders on being an embarrassment of riches.  The technical effects astound even more this time than the first time around.

Downey, one of the finest actors working today for my money, is super and completely comfortable in the suit and out.  Like his character, Downey is a gifted man who has beat the odds to get where he is.

Few actors can still act engulfed in a formidable costume.  Downey, on screen during the Christmas holidays as the title character in "Sherlock Holmes," is one of them.  Perhaps the finest.

Gwyneth Paltrow returns as Stark's assistant "Pepper" Potts, and their verbal tête-à-tête is even more finely tuned than it was in '08.

Newcomers, who are all great, include Scarlett Johansson ("The Spirit," "Vicky Cristina Barcelona") kicking hiney and not taking names in a unitard as mystery lady Stark assistant Natalie Rushman.  Also, Sam Rockwell ("Everybody's Fine") struts his stuff quite well as a spoiled, jealous arms manufacturer.

Don Cheadle, nominated for an Oscar for "Hotel Rwanda" in 2004, takes over the role of military liaison Lt. Col. James "Rhodey" Rhodes seamlessly, like he belonged there all the time.  Cheadle is so good, in fact, that some "Iron Man" fans might be thinking, "Terrence Howard who?"

"Iron Man 2" falls just short of measuring up to the name of its parent franchise company, Marvel.  It's a blast of a superhero action sequel.  It's just that No. 2 must, by definition, revisit a cinematic world now familiar and, therefore, slightly redundant.

'Perfect Game' pitches near-perfect on screen

 

Cesar (Clifton Collins Jr.) and Mario (Moises Arias) discuss baseball and "the  ladies."  (Prelude Pictures)

The Perfect Game

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Running time: 113 minutes

MPAA rating: PG (some thematic elements)

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"The Perfect Game"

"The Perfect Game," a little gem of a stand-up-and-cheer baseball movie, was almost shut-out before it ever made the big screen.

On the shelf, or should we say the bench, for well over a year, this is a must-see for anyone who loves baseball or just enjoys a solid tug on the heartstrings.

In a perfect world, "The Perfect Game" would be assigned enjoyment for every Little League team member, coach and parent around the globe. For those who don't enjoy the game of baseball, the family friendly entertainment scores with a mix of life lessons about tolerance and respect for all humans.

A note from this aisle seat:  I consider myself a pretty serious baseball fan.  Yet I had never heard the emotional story of a rag-tag team of Little Leaguers from Monterrey, Mexico that forms the foundation of this story.

In 1957, they walked 10 miles in 110-degree heat from the U.S.-Mexican border to McAllen, TX to play their first Little League game north of their home country .  For many -- perhaps all -- of the 10-12-year-old players, it wasn't just their first glimpse of El Norte.  It was also the first time the team that had to clear rocks to play ball on a makeshift dirt field ever got to play on grass.

The screenplay by W. William Winokur, working from his own book of 2008, while a little cheesy at times, grabs the heart early and begins a serious emotional squeeze play.

The actor most will recognize first is veteran comedian/actor Cheech Marin.  Marin sinks his acting soul into the role of Padre Esteban, the priest who loves baseball almost as much as his first calling.  San Antonio native Bruce McGill ("W.," "The Lookout") and Lou Gossett ("Jasper, Texas") add credence to small featured roles.

Of the adult actors, however, it's front-liners Clifton Collins Jr. and Emilie de Ravin ("Lost" on TV) who knock performances out of the park.  Collins ("Extract," the "Star Trek" remake), turned heads in the industry opposite Philip Seymour Hoffman as Perry Smith in "Capote" (2005).

Collins is strong here as well as Cesar Faz, the Mexican steel worker who once had hopes of coaching in the St. Louis Cardinals organization, but was tagged out by the 1950s color barrier.  Though reluctant at first, Cesar becomes the Little League coach, and pushes his players beyond expectations with fundamentals, hustle and heart.

De Ravin is all over the role of a spunky McAllen newspaper reporter who follows the team and records the story.

Several of the young cast members who make up the scrappy little Monterrey Industrials are standouts as well.  Jake T. Austin ("Hotel for Dogs") will melt your heart as Angel, the ambidextrous pitcher verbally abused at home by a stern, grieving dad.

I was also very entertained by New York native Moises Arias (Rico on "Hannah Montana") as Mario, the team's little ladies man who serves as effective comic relief.

My only foul-ball complaint for veteran baseball movie director William Dear ("Angels in the Outfield") is that this film which takes place much of the time in Texas was shot in Los Angeles.  The dead giveaway comes when someone in the film calls a team from the Rio Grande Valley town of Weslaco "Wes-layco."

That's the only error in "The Perfect Game," a walk away winner that no baseball fan or Little Leaguer should miss.

Where there's a will, but not a way

(Courtesy:  IFC Films)

The Art of the Steal

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Running time: 101 minutes

No MPAA rating: (profanity)

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"The Art of the Steal"

The best documentaries aim the sunlight of public exposure into the shadows of dirty dealings and deceit.

Say what you will about Michael Moore.  But by infusing humor and, yes, himself, into serious issues such as General Motors pulling out of his hometown, shady politics and health insurance, Moore has at least primed the pump of public thinking.

"The Art of the Steal," directed by Don Argott (who also serves as cinematographer), takes a straightforward, somber approach.  The rock overturned is a huge one, though; the long and vocal struggle for control of the Barnes Foundation art collection valued somewhere between $25-$30 billion.

Hardly posturing Philadelphia as the City of Brotherly Love, "The Art of the Steal" states a strong case in the other direction.  Dr. Albert Barnes made his fortune in pharmaceutical research after the turn of the 20th century.  By the 1920s he had turned his attention and considerable zeal to art collecting.

He also, according to the long list of the documentary interviewees, got crossways with Philadelphia politicians,  When he set up The Barnes Foundation, a world-class collection of Post-Impressionist and early modern art, it was five miles outside the Philadelphia city limits in Lower Merion.

It doesn't take long to grasp the idea that Barnes, who was married but had no children, also held the notion of art collections as tourist attractions in utter contempt.  His collection, arranged by theme in wall ensembles in intimate rooms, was intended -- and for decades sternly operated -- as an educational facility rather than a museum.

After his sudden death in 1951, "The Art of the Steal" contends, politicians and wealthy Philadelphia citizens began to conspire to get their hands on Barnes' collection of Cézannes, Matisses, Picassos, Van Goghs and other valuable pieces and set them up as a for-profit tourist attraction.    

That might be expected if someone with world-class riches on canvass died without a will.  Barnes, however, sought out the best attorneys he could find to include in his will the specific wishes that his collection never be moved, sold or loaned out.

Every city has its unique disputes.  So why should movie-goers concern themselves with a battle of wills literally and figuratively that played out (and continues) out of our region?

"The Art of the Steal" is superbly structured, for one thing.  Argott ("Rock School") pulls off an impressing list of interviews, although some key figures declined comment.   From former Barnes students, to outspoken art critics and politicians (including Pennsylvania Governor Edward Rendell), the clearly identified players state their views about what one of them calls "the greatest theft of art since the second world war."

If you appreciate good documentaries and especially if you love art, "The Art of the Steal" is a must-see.

An officer and a secretive gentleman

Vince (Andy Garcia) insists on being called a corrections officer, not a prison guard.  (Anchor Bay Films)

City Island

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Running time: 103 minutes

MPAA rating: PG-13 (profanity, adult situations, smoking)

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"City Island"

When a husband has to stick his head out of the roof of his house to smoke a cigarette and read a book, there's a good chance that secrets are lurking.

"City Island," with an ensemble cast led by Andy Garcia and Julianna Margulies, sparkles as a witty gem of a dysfunctional family comedy-with-drama.

You might think of "Little Miss Sunshine" right off, especially when Alan Arkin, who took home an Oscar as grumpy grandpa in "Little Miss Sunshine," shows up as an egomaniac Manhattan acting teacher.

Even though this is a tribute to indie filmmaking in an economically strapped society, "City Island" finds its own solid footing and identity.  There is no need for this film, written and directed by Raymond De Felitta ("The Thing About My Folks"), to grasp onto any previous film's coattails.

Garcia (an Oscar nominee for "The Godfather:  Part III" in 1990), also draws a producer credit.  He's Vince Rizzo, a prison guard who steadfastly prefers the term "corrections officer."  Vince, his distant, but very vocal wife Joyce (Margulies) and somewhat bizarre teenage son Vinnie Jr. (Ezra Miller) live in a blue collar island hamlet called City Island in New York's North Bronx.

Don't worry if you've never heard of this tiny outer borough town.  Neither had filmmaker De Felitta (a New Yorker) until he read about it as a New York getaway destination.  It's the perfect locale for a tale like this to unfold, though.  In the background, Manhattan looms large; a place where dreams might just come true.

What I like best about "City Island" is that everyone has an unfulfilled dream or secret they're hiding.  White lies fill the air like fireflies on a summer's night.  Vince notices his long-lost son Tony (Steven Strait) in prison lock-up one day, and brings him home.

Lie No. 1:  Tony is just some con Vince took under his wing to help him with a construction project in the back yard.  Lie No. 2:  Vince tries to convince Tony of the same thing.

And so it goes.  Vince's innermost secret, however, is that he's always wanted to be an actor.  So he lies and tells the wife that he's attending a weekly poker game, even though he's off to Manhattan and acting class with Malakov (Arkin).

That's just the tip of the deception iceberg.  This film's press notes proclaim "City Island" a "perfect storm of deception."  I wouldn't go that far, but it's solidly in the arena.  College-student daughter Vivian, played by Garcia's daughter Dominik Garcia-Loridc, also carries the torch of untruths.  Vivian takes the idea of being kicked out of college and covering it up to new, not-so-covered-up levels.

Garcia is obviously having fun playing the gruff husband and father who melts under the spell of acting and his acting partner, a mystery lady portrayed with style by Emily Mortimer.  Margulies, on TV these days in “The Good Wife” (although I still think of her from “ER”), fidgets and flirts admirably as bored, neglected Mom.

De Felitta lets things sway a little too much in the direction of soap opera melodrama a few times, especially in the give-and-take between Margulies and Strait (as the recently released prisoner).

Generally, though, "City Island" beguiles and delights as a tangled web of deception that blusters its way to entertaining resolution.

Tallying up the 'Prophet' and loss statement

 

Malik (Tahar Rahim) takes care of mod business on a prison day-pass.
(Sony Pictures Classics)

A Prophet

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Running time: 149 minutes

MPAA rating: R (harsh profanity, extreme violence, extreme adult situations, nudity, drugs)

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"A Prophet"

Malik, a bewildered 19-year-old Arab, doesn't know what to expect when he's processed into a French prison at the beginning of the French import "A Prophet."

Winner of the second place Grand Prix Award at last year's Cannes Film Festival, "A Prophet" ("Un Prophète") was also up for an Foreign Film Academy Award Sunday night.  It lost out to  Argentina's "The Secret in Their Eyes."

"A Prophet," directed and co-written by Jacques Audiard, is a coming-of-awareness prison drama unlike anything I've seen before.  Malik (Tahar Rahim) cannot read or write when he's locked up.  Corsican prisoner elder César Luciani (Niels Arestrup), holding court on a prison yard stone bench, spots the young man's naiveté right away.

César, who wields more power than the guards and probably the warden himself, spots something else.  Another Arab arrived at the prison on the same day.  Reyeb (Hichem Yacoubi), only to be locked up for 10 days before he testifies against the Corsican mob, has been targeted for assassination.

Since Malik speaks Arabic and especially since Reyeb offers Malik hashish in exchange for sexual favors, César forces new, naive inmate Malik to attempt the hit.

"A Prophet," in French, Arabic and Corsican with subtitles, follows the transition of this young man as he morphs into a tool of the prison underworld, then as he blossoms into his own as perhaps someone more cunning and ruthless than even César could imagine.  Malik has visions; sometimes of ghosts  still burning as if just back from hell and sometimes of future events.

In only his fifth feature, Audiard ("The Beat That My Heart Skipped") wields power and confidence himself.  This is a drama of grand, if brutal style.  Malik is perplexed, intrigued and seduced by his steadily growing power base.  He gets advice to learn to read and write from a man he is about to brutally murder with a razor blade concealed between his cheek and gum (like chewing tobacco).

This is a sometimes mystical eruption of raw violence and self-empowerment that riveted my attention to the screen.  

Rahim, who has done some television work, is putty in the hands of his director in real life.  His character Malik, while being molded in similar amazing fashion by César on screen, solidifies into someone who reveals with a little sly smile during an act of extreme violence that no one is safe around him.

César creates a monster, and the transition is quite extraordinary in any language.  Audiard, through Rahim, majestically reveals the inner-torment and survival instinct it takes to propel a monster to an even scarier level:  intelligence.

Audiard clearly structures his ending as a "to be continued" wink at the audience.

In the case of "A Prophet," I'll look forward to it.