Review: "The Killing of Two Lovers"

 

"The Killing of Two Lovers" teases you with its title. Does it refer to an actual murder that takes place, or two? Or do the people who we think are in danger of being killed the wrong two? Or maybe it's metaphorical, alluding to the death of love between a married couple?

This is a contemplative, observational drama from writer/director Robert Machoian. It stars Clayne Crawford as David, a father and husband we're not sure how we feel about. 

He is currently estranged from his wife, Nikki (Sepideh Moafi), living just down the street with his elderly, wisecracking dad. They all reside in a run-down rural town, a flat expanse between mountains  that seem to loom in the background menacingly rather than beatifically. 

Things start with a scene, which I'll not describe in detail, which make us immediately fear and loathe David. He contemplates something cowardly and hateful, and we feel like he would have gone through with it if circumstances didn't intervene. Shortly thereafter he tries something similar, behaving like a first-rate stalker and creep.

But then we see him looking after his ailing father, and walking his kids to school in a quietly protective way, and maybe we think we don't know all there is to him. 

He and Nikki are taking break, at her urging, to "work on things" with the understanding they will see other people during this time. It soon becomes clear this means Nikki is seeing another man, Derek (Chris Coy), while David does little else but pine for her and think about how to fix their fractured family.

Machoian shoots many scenes from middle distance or even further away, so we feel like we're observers who happened upon this scene rather than seeking it out voyeuristically. In watching Crawford I'm reminded of Robert Duvall in "Tender Mercies," acting even with his back to the camera. 

We follow David around on his daily routine. He's an overalls-and-pickup kind of guy, doing whatever hard work needs done, like cleaning up a field of junk for a hundred bucks a day. He noodled around with being a singer/songwriter back in the day, but he and Nikki got hitched straight out of high school and started having kids, so their young dreams have been back-burnered, possibly permanently.

It's a strange journey because David will seem so even-keeled and mature one moment, like insisting to his troubled teen daughter, Jess (Avery Pizzut), that she shouldn't make Nikki out to be the villain because she wanted the separation and now has a stranger sleeping over. Then a few hours later he'll be following people around in his truck or losing his cool. 

Relationships and marital stress are not fun, and can feel like we're being physically pulled out of the body of the person we want to be and into a limbo wandering of dread and self-hate. This film shows all of that in a stark, realistic way that melts into your bones. 

One scene really resonated with me where David knows he is in the right about something Nikki has done regarding Jess, through carelessness rather than spite, and we see him use that fleeting power to manipulate the situation and compel an apology that he lavishes in. 

It becomes about point-keeping and one-upping, even (especially?) with the ones we love.

I also admired that way sound is used in the movie. There is no musical score and the background wind of the prairie lurks around us constantly like a ghost in the shadows. Sudden concussive, almost metallic sounds will suddenly punctuate the soundscape, suggesting the cocking of a pistol or scraping of a knife. 

It's a powerful, subtle way of making the audience feel like we're always balancing on the border of uncertainty and violence.

At 84 minutes, "The Killing of Two Lovers" is just long enough to fill us with a pervading sense of fear and tension, but also hope and empathy. We feel badly for this couple, even as they don't always act in the most compassionate way or try to be their best selves. David does some terrible things, or at least contemplates them, and we wish for him to pull back from the edge.

I'm not sure what to call this movie. Is it a crime thriller? A family drama? A revenge Western? Elements of all are in its DNA. I think it's one of those movies that actively resists categorization. 

The strange association that comes to mind is "Bonnie & Clyde." They were regular people who became outlaws, and David and Nikki often teeter on the edge between normalcy and depravity. It's a narrower line than we like to think.

Review: "The Front Runner"

“The Front Runner” is an unflattering portrait of American politics, but even more so of the media.

Based on a book by political journalist Matt Bai, who also co-wrote this screenplay, it examines the moment when tabloid and mainstream news intersected, merged and never really looked back. This was Gary Hart’s 1987 campaign for the presidency, when the U.S. senator from Colorado was seen as the prohibitive favorite to win the Democratic nomination, only to have it all unwind in less than month when his serial philandering was reported.

For decades, Washington politicians held the journalists who covered them to a gentlemen’s agreement: look the other way when young ladies are seen going in and out of our doors, and we will give the access you need to do your jobs. It was a nearly all-male environment, both in the corridors of power and the newsrooms charged with checking them -- so the Faustian bargain was accepted.

Consider that just two years before Hart’s implosion, Teddy Kennedy was witnessed assaulting a waitress along with his protégé, Chris Dodd. It went unreported for five years, and only then in a chuckling passage in a men’s magazine.

That was the mentality held by Hart, a wonky and charismatic politician played by Hugh Jackman. Hart is a man of big ideas and enthusiasm for the future who was laid low by clinging to the unsavory practices of the past. He is annoyed, then outraged, that his philandering is not swept under the rug as it always has been.

“This is beneath you,” he seethes at a young Washington Post reporter (Mamoudou Athie) who dares bring up rumors of his affairs. “Follow me around, put a tail on me. You'll be very bored.”

This line has entered the lore of politics, but like a lot of legends it’s mostly fiction. Hart did not challenge journalists to follow him and then openly dally with bimbos. Reporters from the Miami Herald, acting on a tip from a friend of one of Hart’s conquests, staked out his D.C. townhouse and witnessed model/pharmaceutical saleswoman Donna Rice (Sara Paxton) going in and out. They only heard about the “follow me” line after the fact.

(It should also be noted that the Herald reporters, played by Steve Zissis and Bill Burr, did not “hide behind bushes” as Hart contended, which also became part of the erroneous mythology.)

Directed by Jason Reitman, who co-wrote the script with Bai and Jay Carson, “The Front Runner” is an ambitious, contemplative movie that asks hard questions without offering easy answers.

Was it unseemly for reporters to lurk around during Hart’s downtime to see who he dallied with? Should they have looked the other way, as had been practice? Was it fair for Hart’s talents and ambition to be the price our nation paid for demanding more of our politicians?

One female journalist gives a poignant speech pointing out that Hart, for all his blessings, was still just another man willing to employ his power to use and dispose of women who cater to his whims. There’s also a nice sequence where one of Hart’s campaign workers (Molly Ephraim) is charged with “handling” Rice as the story explodes, knowing she is about to be fed to the wolves.

The film reminded me a lot of early Robert Altman movies, with large casts of characters moving in and out of the frame as the camera slides past, their conversations overlapping and receding. It lends a sense of documentary-like authenticity.

There’s too many supporting actors to mention, although Vera Farmiga and J. K. Simmons stand out as, respectively, Hart’s wife, Lee, who is willing to overlook his dalliances until they become an embarrassment her, and the campaign manager who has spent years building a political machine only to watch it turn to ash virtually overnight.

Thirty years later, Hart’s fall seems almost quaint now in this day of presidential porn star mistresses, handsy politicians of all stripes and a media that has grown both quantifiably smaller and more meager in its ambitions.

Making do with the errors of the past is bad, but sometimes in reaching for something better we degrade ourselves. “The Front Runner” is the cautionary tale of our collective rise and fall.

Review: "The Barber"

Scott Glenn is hardly a household name, but he's long been one of my favorite actors. With his taut gaze, sharp-featured face, stoic demeanor and rangy physique, Glenn is the sort of actor's actor who could play a cowboy, an astronaut, a lawyer, just about anything -- and has.

Often when I'm reading a book with a distinctive male character, I unconsciously summon the image and sound of Glenn to personify him. It can even happen more than once in the same novel. Reading Stephen King's "The Stand," I instantly pictured main protagonist Stu Redman as him. But then when I came across the exploits of antichrist-like Randall Flagg, aka "the Walking Dude," I realized that his darkling smile would be ideally suited on Glenn's face, too.

Actors with that sort of malleable screen persona tend not to get cast in many leading roles, and now that Glenn is in his 70s his recent work has been almost entirely in supporting parts -- often playing the villain or the wise old master who tutors the hero, as in the new television version of "Daredevil."

So I was glad to hear about "The Barber," a psychological thriller in which Glenn stars. It's being released in a few theaters nationwide and on video on demand this week. Even if you're not the sort, like me, who'd watch pretty much anything Glenn was in, it's a well-made film with some nice performances and some clever twists of the plot.

He plays Eugene Van Wingerdt, an amiable older man living in an amiable small town in the Midwest, Moraine. It's a picture-pretty place with a main drag of handsome stores, one of which is Gene's barber shop. There he plies his trade, admonishes his young apprentice, Luis (Max Arciniega), not to swear so much, and pals around with the chief of police (Stephen Tobolowsky, another standout veteran character actor).

Then a scruffy young man named John (Chris Coy) comes to town, muttering something about all the girls Gene killed long ago. It seems that Gene, then known as Frank Visser, was the main suspect in a rash of 17 serial killings in which young women were abducted and buried alive. He was released for lack of evidence, pulled up stakes and moved to Moraine for a fresh start 20 years ago.

It's soon revealed that John is the son of the Chicago detective who pursued Visser all those years ago, eventually putting a bullet in his own head over his inability to catch the murderer, who repeatedly called to taunt him about not saving the latest victim. A cop himself, John is determined to catch the guy his father couldn't, by pretending to be a fellow killer looking for a mentor.

Director Basel Owies and screenwriter Max Enscoe adroitly play around with the audience's expectations, first giving us a picture of an innocent man who really was the victim of an overzealous police investigation. Gene walks around with a stooped, stiff-ambled gait, is a regular church-goer and quiet pillar of the community.

"A man's appearance should always show self-respect, not self-importance," Gene opines, like a seer of the Norman Rockwell set.

But the mask slips, revealing a calculating oldster with a bird-of-prey mien who clearly has something to hide. Is Gene really the serial killer, or is he just leading John on in a lame attempt for attention and companionship in his declining years? The way he talks about young girls as "yummies" or "birdies" who tempt his inner demons certainly gives us pause.

But Glenn's grizzled poker face has no tells, so we're left puzzling.

The two men begin a strange sort of tutelage, in which Gene prepares tests for John, and imparts little tricks to put others at ease -- like offering a girl a ride, and looking at your watch when she hesitates so she'll think you're in a hurry.

The film is a little fat in the middle, with a few too many subplots and extraneous characters -- such as Audrey (Kristen Hager), a fellow cop from Chicago who turns up just in time to throw a gear in the works. She's merely a damsel waiting for her distress to appear.

The heart of the movie is Gene and John feeling each other out, like two wary wolves unsure of the other's true intent. It's a twist on the old cop-and-killer game that's a cut above, with Scott Glenn portraying a man adept at blending in as either the hunter or the prey.