Sicario

SICARIO (Denis Villeneuve, 2015)

Having been noticed for doing excellent work on the kidnap rescue team, Phoenix FBI agent Kate Macer (Emily Blunt) is invited to join an interagency task force in SICARIO. She flies with Department of Defense advisor Matt Graver (Josh Brolin) and a lawyer named Alejandro Benicio Del Toro) to El Paso on a mission that isn’t exactly clear to her. The longer she’s with them, the more Kate begins to question the legality of what they’re involved in.

As SICARIO explores what is done in the shadows in the war on drugs, viewers share Kate’s lack of clarity about the situation she’s participating in. With the camera moving forward director Denis Villeneuve takes Kate as the audience’s proxy deep into spaces where safety is far from assured. The scenarios become more fraught as the film progresses. The tension in the opening attack on a house where abductees are suspected to be held is exceeded in Kate’s voluntary baptism by fire as the team goes to Juarez and back. Villeneuve continues to turn up the heat, whether it’s within the walls of a military base, secret border-crossing tunnel, or kingpin’s home. These scenes come with an adrenaline charge and the distinct dread of the dangers in tight quarters.

Villeneuve and screenwriter Taylor Sheridan capture the thrill and horror experienced when going along for a ride to the dark side. SICARIO isn’t concerned so much with considering if the tactics used to make an impact on the cartels are above board. Whether as an unwitting participant or informed objector, Kate isn’t really in a position to be able to alter the actions she witnesses. Chances are if she’s not willing to play ball, those calling the shots will simply find someone else anyway. Speaking out may make Kate feel better, but doing so is likely just the quickest way to put herself at even greater risk.

Blunt is convincing at demonstrating the mental and physical toughness to perform in the field with no certainty of what awaits behind the doors she enters and walls surrounding her. Kate feels frustrated that her legitimate efforts aren’t making a dent in the bigger fight, yet she doesn’t approve of the secret activities attempting to gain a semblance of control in the situation. Matt’s heedless disregard for challenges to his authority make him a frightening yet effective character, and Brolin intimidates and amuses with the cocky assurance of someone who has license to do as he pleases. SICARIO doesn’t flinch as it stares at the violence that’s part and parcel of cartel activity here and abroad and supplies no easy solutions in its tangled, gripping story.

Grade: A-

The Wolfman

THE WOLFMAN (Joe Johnston, 2010)

For traveling actor Lawrence Talbot (Benicio Del Toro) in THE WOLFMAN, his homecoming is not a joyous occasion. Having left the family's Victorian estate several years earlier without ever looking back, Lawrence returns to Blackmoor after receiving news of his brother's disappearance. Upon arrival he is informed that his sibling's maimed body has been recovered.

A medallion among the deceased's personal effects leads Lawrence to visit a gypsy camp on the fringe of the village in search of answers. Before he can gain any clarity regarding his brother's death, a werewolf attacks the camp and bites Lawrence. The wound heals quickly, though, and Lawrence's full recovery has him feeling better than before, that is until he encounters a full moon and transforms into a beast like the one who bit him.

The Wolf Man first appeared in 1941 with Lon Chaney Jr. in the title role. For this remake nearly sixty years later, director Joe Johnston and screenwriters Andrew Kevin Walker and David Self have greater special effects at their disposal and the freedom to show far more gore in the monster's rampages. Yet what's missing in this WOLFMAN is something timeless: the human cost that gives tragic meaning to the metamorphosis and potential cure.

Del Toro comes across as uninterested in much of the film. He mumbles and sulks in the hallways and corridors of the dark estate but never conveys the inner torment that comes with his dilemma. More critically, the supposed romance that takes hold between Lawrence and his brother's fiancée Gwen (Emily Blunt) is nonexistent on screen. Except for the rare proclamation or action meant to reinforce their otherwise invisible passion, the single element that may grant this werewolf his salvation is not to be believed.

THE WOLFMAN'S choppy editing is more of a rhythmic problem in the narrative sections rather than in the action scenes. Whether it's the case or not, character-building portions feel as though they've been snipped in an attempt to minimize downtime between The Wolfman's maulings. The strained relationship between Lawrence and his father Sir John (Anthony Hopkins) needs more heft than some oddly placed flashbacks can give.

The action scenes can be reasonably diverting, especially when The Wolf Man breaks loose while under medical observation, but like the film as a whole, these violent outbursts also seem insubstantial. The only thing hiding behind THE WOLFMAN'S dramatic and visual murk is a patchy story.

Grade: C-

Things We Lost in the Fire

THINGS WE LOST IN THE FIRE (Susanne Bier, 2007)

After Steven Burke (David Duchovny) is killed while intervening during a domestic dispute between strangers, his wife Audrey (Halle Berry) invites his childhood friend Jerry Sunborne (Benicio Del Toro) to live with them. Still grappling with the loss of her husband and the ordeal of raising a ten-year-old daughter and six-year-old son alone, she's obviously in pain and in need of someone nearby. Her reaching out to Jerry wouldn't seem so unusual except that he is a recovering heroin addict and someone she took pains not to associate with until this moment.

In THINGS WE LOST IN THE FIRE Jerry moves into the garage next to the spacious Seattle home that couldn't feel any emptier to Audrey. The garage, like Jerry, is a work in progress. It has gone unrepaired for years after an electrical fire destroyed many precious family items housed in it. Jerry, on the other hand, has suffered from self-neglect and the junk he can't seem to break himself of.

Damaged individuals healing one another is a serviceable idea for a film, but THINGS WE LOST IN THE FIRE is missing an essential component: plausibility. People do funny things out of grief. Offering to let an unrehabilitated junkie move in and become part of the family is a big stretch, especially when the addict in question has been repelled for a long time.

Even so, the new arrangement might have been believable if the characters didn't feel as though they were being forced through the gears of Allan Loeb's screenplay. Each person in the film seems predisposed to connect instantly with everyone else, a matter exaggerated through truncated scenes that rush toward the inevitable resolution while failing to establish a foundation.

It isn't fair to characterize Jerry as a "magical junkie"--Del Toro plays the part free of excess sympathy and uncommon wisdom--but the fact remains that the film treats him like a redemptive talisman. Jerry might know how to induce slumber quickly, but the method he knows best doesn't come from cuddling and earlobe stroking but at the tip of a needle.

It's especially surprising that THINGS WE LOST IN THE FIRE is such a miss since director Susanne Bier has excelled in transforming soap opera material into the stuff of high drama in her Danish films. Volatile feelings fueled the blazing melodrama of BROTHERS and AFTER THE WEDDING, yet it was the universal truths underneath those outsized emotions that kept the films relatable. Conversely, THINGS WE LOST IN THE FIRE feels dishonest and cool to the touch. Forget about fires. This film couldn't produce a puff of smoke from tinder.

Grade: C-