Dementia, family, humor, humanity, art: Schreier/Ford's singular ROBOT & FRANK

On its own merits -- and there many of them -- the new film (his first full-length) from director Jake Schreier and writer Christopher D. Ford -- succeeds mightily. What makes ROBOT & FRANK so particularly surprising and welcome, however, is how it avoids the trap of sentimentality that seems to be waiting around every corner in this tale of an old man's renewal via -- yes -- a robot.

This old man, Frank, is played by Frank Langella (above) in perhaps the first screen role in which he manages to completely curtail his penchant for grand-standing. An actor with roots planted firmly in the legitimate theater, Langella, with his extra-long body, bedroom eyes and mellifluous voice, has always commanded the stage, from The Immoralist through Dracula and beyond. So while grand-standing may have come easily, it has always arrived. As the actor has grown older, we've seen less of it (on film, at least; I no longer attend legit theater), though it still popped up a bit in his relatively recent Starting Out in the Evening. There's usually always a whiff (or more) of self-satisfaction in his presentation.

In Robot & Frank, however, the peculiar combination of character (who Frank is spills out slowly, piecemeal) age, condition and circumstance allows the actor, with the help of his writer/director, to remain strong and commanding, even as he is failing and flailing. This mixture is dynamite; it keeps us forever on our toes, just as it does the actor himself -- who is as good here as he has ever been. Surely, "Oscar" will come calling, once the New Year arrives.

The film is set, as a title card tells us up front, in "the near future." Senior citizen and full-time curmudgeon Frank needs help, but his son Hunter (James Marsden, above, right) has grown tired of the long trip back and forth to see him. Daughter Madison (Liv Tyler, below, right) spends her time traveling the world "doing good." So Hunter brings dad a very complicated but helpful robot (voiced immaculately by Peter Sarsgaard) to take care of him.

Frank, of course, is having none of this. So, do we simply twiddle our thumbs until the feel-good, man-loves-robot ending arrives? Hardly. Nothing is quite as it seems at first glance in this film. As writer, Mr. Ford (and my apologies to this guy, as I earlier mistakenly attributed the screenplay to the film's director) is constantly surprising us and pulling us up short, even as he entertains us. And if filmmaker Schreier, shown at right, still has things to learn in the directing department (and of course he does: this is his first full-lengther), fortunately he's also gifted enough at this point to handle his directing duties with an aplomb that carries us over the finish line.

Schreier draws fine performances from his entire cast, which includes smart turns from Jeremy Sisto as the town's sheriff, Jeremy Strong as the town's yuppie du jour, and especially Susan Sarandon (above, right) as the town's friendly librarian.

Since this is a "robot" movie, you'll expect of course a theme involving humanity.  You get it -- and more -- but it won't come via any heavy-duty "message." Everything's embedded in the believable, often funny dialog, and that "humanity," when it arrives, is all concerned with Frank. The rush of emotion you may feel over the concluding few moments, I think, will have less to do with anything so standard as a feel-good message and more with having witnessed a piece of very fine film-making.

Robot & Frank -- 90 minutes long and from Samuel Goldwyn Films -- opens this Friday, August 17, in New York City at the Paris Theater and the Angelika Film Center. The following week it hits L.A. and environs and will then make its way across the country in the weeks to come. Click here to see all currently scheduled playdates with cities and theaters.

TYRANNOSAUR: Paddy Considine turns filmmaker as Mullan and Colman shine

At a press preview last week, a compatriot of mine, Kent Turner of Film Forward used the term British miserabilism to describe movies such as TYRANNOSAUR, the first full-length film to be written and directed by the crack British actor Paddy Considine. Having recently sat through other examples of this genre -- NEDS and In Our Name are two such -- I find that term pretty appropriate. The definition of the word -- the kind of music, art, film or theater that evokes a depressive state -- can also be expanded into the quality of seeming to enjoy that state. Both meanings are appropriate for the movie at hand, I think.

Mr. Considine (shown at left), a terrific actor under literally every circumstance in which I've seen him, has cast and then coaxed some of the finest perfor-mances of the year from his actors, particularly his two leads, Peter Mullan and Olivia Colman. As over-the-top as I found the movie's central situation and the fact that both leading characters have a secret (or not so) cross to bear, either of which would be plenty to hang a movie around but together make for the kind of double whammy that can't help seeming a bit manufac-tured, I could still, not for a second, consider leaving before the movie had finished because, moment-to-moment, the performances were that real and riveting. (I have also found this to be true in some of the films in which Mr. Considine has starred. In fact, the first film which he co-wrote -- but did not direct -- Dead Man's Shoes, suffered from this same, over-the-top quality.)

In Tyrannosaur, the title of which comes from a story the Mullan characters tells about his late wife, characters and events are almost always pitched at an emergency state. The film begins with an angry, nasty drunk (our Mullan man, shown above) killing his pet dog (animal lovers will immediately despair but wait -- another dog in sent to the great fire hydrant in the sky before the movie reaches its destination). His grief for this deed seems to know no bounds but soon he is back threatening folk and breaking windows.

This leads to his "miserabilism meet-cute" with co-star, the wonderful Ms Colman (above) in the church-sponsored thrift shop where she works. Religion raises its ridiculous head for a time, but, really, neither party is all that into it. What they are into is violence and pain. One gives, without really wanting to, and the other receives, again, without at all wanting to. The third wheel is provided by the always reliable Eddie Marsan (shown in photo at bottom), who is wonderful in a two-note role.

Other than this, the supporting cast is comprised of a family across the street --  nasty father (played by Paul Popplewell, below), cowed mother, sweet son; and a good, often drunk, friend of the Mullan character, played by the fine actor Ned Dennehy, shown with Colman at left, above (Dennehy is also super-fine as the sleazy snitch in the now stream-able movie Blitz, in which Considine shines in the role of a gay cop).

As I say, every single performance is terrific, so it's little wonder the film won both the World Cinema Jury Prize, Dramatic, for Breakout Performances, and the World Cinema Directing Award, Dramatic at this year's Sundance Festival. And it is not that the writing and directing are lacking, exactly; they do the job. But there is indeed that sense (as in the miserabilism definition above) of everyone somehow enjoying all this just a little too much.

Tyrannosuar, another worthwhile film from Strand Releasing, opens this Friday, November 18, in New York City at the Angelika Film Center and in the Los Angeles area at Laemmle's Sunset 5 and Playhouse 7.