At last! Marco Bellocchio's thoughtful end-of-life movie DORMANT BEAUTY hits American theaters

I first saw and covered this moving and surprising film two years ago, expecting it would open soon in a limited release. No such luck. Now, finally, adult movie-lovers will have the chance to see and ponder the film that is one of its director's -- Marco Bellocchio's -- best. I've re-posted my original coverage below, with a few updates. Watching DORMANT BEAUTY a second time makes me realize anew how very fine a film it is.

Euthanasia may not seem the hot-button issue in America that abortion always is, but float it into a conversation -- anywhere, anytime -- not simply as a subject for discussion but with real specifics attached and you'll discover disagreement and shock followed by flaring tempers before you know what has hit you. Imagine the same topic in Italy, home of the Vatican and its I'd-better-abdicate-before-the-shit-hits-the-fan former Pope, not to mention the oh-my-god-he's-a-Communist (who maybe helped the Argentine military "disappear" leftists) current Pope, and you'll no doubt end up with that disagreement, shock and flaring tempers squared.

All of which makes Marco Bellocchio's newest film DORMANT BEAUTY (Sleeping Beauty is a closer translation, but I guess that one's been used a few too many times) such a strong and satisfying film. A surprising one, too -- and not in terms of what Signore Bellocchio (shown above) is capable of and usually gives us. Rather, the surprise comes from the fact that this writer/director does not take a side but instead shows us several sides. (Yes, in life, there exists more than merely "pro" and "con.") This forces us to confront human beings in specific situations, rather than mere ideas.

The film takes place in 2009, during the fraught period just prior to an Italian father's pulling the plug on his daughter, Eulana Englaro, who had been in a coma for some 17 years. (For an American version of this, think back to 2005 and the case of Terri Schiavo.) While Italians demonstrate on both sides, Bellocchio zeroes in on a handful of disparate people.

Among these are a Senator (Toni Servillo, above left) whose personal feelings and conscience go against those of his party, and, in fact, of his own daughter (Alba Rohrwacher, below, right) who is adamantly pro-life. His conversations with his peers, as well as with a "therapist to the politicians," are among the film's most trenchant and sometime darkly amusing.  When she becomes suddenly involved in an incident provoked by the other side, her life takes a drastic change, as she finds herself drawn to the brother of one of the protesters on the opposite side (Michele Riondino, below, left). This situation -- fodder, it might seem, for a smart rom-com -- is here used in a way that allows these characters, along with us, to try for some growth and change.

The dormant beauty of the title, in addition to the real Eulana, is found in the home of a famous French/Italian actress, played by Isabelle Huppert, below. Her daughter, too, is comatose, and while the father and brother might like to see that plug pulled, the actress, who has renounced theater, has submerged herself in the Catholic faith. That this section, though believable enough, is the least persuasive should not be surprising, for all-or-nothing religious faith must, I think, be experienced to be truly understood.

Elsewhere, a drug-addicted woman (Maya Sansa, below, left) is taken notice of by a doctor (the filmmaker's younger brother, Pier Giorgio Bellocchio, below, right) and a dance of death/life ensues, and again, thanks to first-rate writing, directing and performing, we're able to understand things from both sides of the war. Will the movie change any viewer's viewpoint from one side to the other? Probably not. But it probably will make the "other" a little more understandable.

From Emerging Pictures and Cinema Made in Italy and running 115 minutes, Dormant Beauty opens tomorrow in New York City exclusively at the Lincoln Plaza Cinema. In the Los Angeles area, the film will open in Friday, June 13, at Laemmle's Music Hall 3, Town Center 5 and Playhouse 7. Elsewhere? Yes, and you can find the cities and theaters by clicking here, and then clicking on Show all dates worldwide for this title.

Paolo Sorrentino's THE GREAT BEAUTY -- Italy's entry for Best Foreign Language Film -- opens

Paolo Sorrentino is back. He of Il Divo, The Family Friend, The Consequences of Love and the woefully under-seen and under-appreciated This Must Be the Place has a new movie opening this Friday in New York (next Friday in L.A.), and it's Italy's submission as Best Foreign-Language Film. THE GREAT BEAUTY (La grande bellezza) is a film of exactly that. What else would anyone who appreciates international cinema expect of Signore Sorrentino (shown at left), who, to my mind, produces frame for frame the most beautiful compositions of anyone working in the medium today and then elides them into something both mysterious and spectacular. (His cinematographer here is the great Luca Bigazzi -- Kryptonite!, click and scroll down -- while the film editing is by Cristiano Travaglioli.)

More than any of the five films I've seen of this master (he's now made six full-length narratives, though I don't think his first, One Man Up, has ever been released in the USA, theatrically or on DVD), The Great Beauty seems to me to be the film that requires the most full understanding and appreciation of Italy, and specifically, Rome.

In this movie, the images pass by with great poise and sophistication, and the visual pleasure is non-stop. The meaning of those rolling images, however, is not so easily ferreted out. For old-time film buffs, an almost immediate reminder of Fellini and his La Dolce Vita and 8-1/2, as though The Great Beauty were an updating of these a half century later. And in some ways, it is. But Sorrentino is so much subtler a director than was Fellini that any comparison goes only so far.

Sorrentno's Rome, as experienced via that fine and hugely versatile actor he so often uses -- Toni Servillo (above)-- is a place of great beauty and desolation/desiccation, of wonder and horror. Yet the images this writer/director chooses and uses, instead of reducing their subject to the cliched visuals of Hollywood horror or beauty, instead often brings you both in the self-same shot. Intellectually, the movie is constantly pulling you up short, as well as pulling the rug from under your preconceptions.

Everyone is at once grand, foolish, awful and beautiful -- rather like life and that fellow/gal in the mirror we must daily confront. As our guide, Servillo -- playing a 65-year-old journalist/novelist named Jep Gambardella -- brings to the film the sort of quiet ease of a man who has seen and done most everything and now understands the fatuousness of so much that has passed for "life."

As befits his character, Servillo has seldom seemed this secure in himself and his place in the world of the film. He imparts a remarkable grace and stature to the proceedings. Whether he is putting an egotistical career woman in her place (then later dancing with her like a pro) or advising a foolish but wealthy mother what to do about her clearly unbalanced adult son, there is about the man a kind of weary wisdom that is both consoling and upsetting, as though he understands all and knows that there is nothing to be done about anything.

We get a look at journalism and performance art in a quietly hilarious interview with a dolt of a performance artist; then, in an even more hilarious scene (above) in which a child creates "fine art" (this will call to mind My Kid Could Paint That, and even more so the recent and much fawned-over documentary about artists and relationships, Cutie and the Boxer), we see what goes into the creation of "modern art"; religion shows its silly faces in both a Mother Teresa-like character and a prominent Catholic high-mukety-muk.

Love? Ah, yes: that, too. And it's a wild and deep and forever-with-us "first love."  Except that it proves as specious as all else. Even the old friend who now runs a strip club business (in which his middle-aged daughter does the stripping) proves more interesting and enduring than anything like "love." Boy, this is a dark movie, beautiful as it is. And the more I consider it, the darker it grows -- but so quietly and un-insistently that I can hardly wait to see it again.

The only thing missing (unless I myself managed to miss it) is politics. But then, Sorrentino gave us plenty of this with Il Divo. The music, as always with Sorrentino, is a blessing over the entire film, providing the kind of religious beauty and peace that religion itself cannot.

If all of the above sounds like a rave review, I must warn you that my spouse gave up on this film after about an hour and a half (the movie runs almost two and one-half hours). And I myself felt a bit flummoxed at the finale. I'd been unable to take my eyes off the screen for fear of missing any of that "great beauty," but what did it all mean? You got me. Since then, however, I've been thinking about the film, piecing it together, and now in writing this reviews, the movie has taken on even more meaning. I will indeed watch it again.

The Great Beauty, one of those rare new releases from Janus Films, opens this Friday, November 15, at the Lincoln Plaza Cinema; on the 22, it opens in Los Angeles at Landmark's NuArt, and over the next few weeks it willl opens at another 15 - 20 cities. Click here to see all currently scheduled playdates.

An original--and an odd one--Bob Byington's family saga SOMEBODY UP THERE LIKES ME

Bob Byington is a name (and a movie-maker) new to me, but I'm awfully glad I stumbled onto his SOMEBODY UP THERE LIKES ME, for it is as odd a film as I've watched in some time. I missed its theatrical opening earlier this year, but its sudden appearance on Netflix's streaming facility this week led me to give it an immediate shot. It took awhile to get with the program, considering that most of the characters (especially the lead, Max, played by Keith Poulson) are not very likable. Stick with it, however, because it gets a whole lot better as it goes along. Even if you can't quite put your finger on the filmmaker's point, by the end of the film, I think you'll feel that your time was well spent.

The very confusion you're likely to feel here -- Why do some characters age, while others do not? Why does everyone seem to take life so cavalierly, almost non-seriously? -- adds to the movie's bizarre-but-impactful quality. Mr. Byington, shown at left, has given us a four-generation family saga, all packed into a mere 76 minutes. Love, death, career, betrayal and more happen over five-year intervals, and things that would normally shake us to our bones, occur so fast and in such a routine manner that our reactions here would seem to call into question the reactions we experience in more "normal" movies.

It's our hero, Max, who is anything but heroic (that's Mr. Poulson, above), whose failure to age takes on immense proportions. Is this because he also does not in the least mature? Perhaps. His son, does, however, going from infant to toddler to youngster to teen to adult, even as others grow and die. (The movie spans some 35 years.) That's the son, as an adult (played quite interestingly by Jonathan Togo), below, right, shown with Max's grandson.

The film begins as Max catches his wife (Kate Lyn Sheil) in flagrante delicto. Soon he is married again to the lovely Lyla who has a penchant for breadsticks (played by Jess Weixler, below, right) yet he is not an ounce happier, more intelligent nor curious than before.

His best friend Sal (Nick Offerman, below), along with Max and Lyla, all work at the same steak house restaurant -- this place sort of holds the movie together -- which rather defines "career" so far as the film is concerned (one venue or idea is as good as another).

Stylistically, the writer/director coaxes good performances out of his cast -- all the actors manage to inhabit the same bizarre page -- and his use of simple, colorful animation (below) to thread the scenes together proves charming and full of vibrant color.

There's a magic suitcase (symbolic of...?), a nanny who doubles as sexual partner, a best friend who doubles as a sexual betrayer, and a therapist who sings (a crackerjack job from Megan Mullally, below, right). All of this goes by in the snap of the fingers, and if its meaning eludes, its strangeness more than makes up for this -- as though Mr. Byington is on to something very important, but has decided, with the kind of perversity the movie loves, to hold it just slightly out of our reach.

Somebody Up There Likes Me (not to be confused with the Paul Newman movie from the mid-1950s), the title of which has got to be viewed super-ironically -- as, I suppose, is this entire movie -- can be seen now via Netflix streaming, on DVD and elsewhere, I imagine.

On-Demand Find: AGAINST THE CURRENT, Peter Callahan's look at friendship & loss

Stick with AGAINST THE CURRENT, because this new, premiering-On-Demand film, written and directed by Peter Callahan (shown just below), takes awhile to get its "sea legs." A small, independent film with a very good cast, it starts out not badly but shakily, as an arrangement is made by three odd people that you simply have to take on faith. It's not a matter of suspen-
ding disbelief as much as it is feeling that you simply don't have enough information to either accept or reject what is happening.

Fair enough. Once this infor-
mation is provided, however, it packs such a wallop that you must start from scratch again, in terms of accepting or rejec-
ting what you've just seen and heard. One reason that you'll probably proceed is that you will expect the obvious Holly-
wood handling -- independent-style, of course -- regarding this very tricky subject, and you'll want to see your pre-conceptions carried out.

The press notes for Against the Current state that it is based on a true story, though the movie itself says no such thing. If it is, fine; it not, that's OK, too, because Callahan's handling of his story finds its own truth -- and plenty of it -- which is what movies are for, right? It is specific and honest enough that I believe you will go with it and be moved, amused and perhaps shaken. 

The filmmaker has managed a very quiet film, in which the characters do little but watch and talk, while one of them swims. Yet the reality of the situation slowly grows -- on them and on us. A side trip to the home of one character's mother provides a needed respite, some brittle conversation and finally a necessary closeness that then carries us to the conclusion.

The three lead performers could hardly be better: Joseph Fiennes (from Shakespeare in Love), shown on the poster at top and two photos above, as the swimmer; Justin Kirk (from Flannel Pajamas), above left, as his best and nearly life-long friend; and Elisabeth Reaser , above, right, (from Puccini for Beginners and Sweet Land) as the interesting third wheel.  Although Ms Reaser's character is initially the most difficult to countenance, it is she who finally provides the cement that glues the film together.  This actress is really one of our best currently at work, radiating intelligence and beauty, and when necessary, grit, charm and whatever else is called for.  Kirk and Fiennes work off each other beautifully: You feel the bond between them and so, when words fail, that's quite all right.

Mary Tyler Moore (above, right, with Fiennes and Reaser) and Michelle Trachtenberg (below left, with Fiennes) from Beautiful Ohio, offer nice supporting moments, but the movie belongs to Callahan and his three leads.  If I am being deliberately evasive regarding the theme here, this is necessary to allow you your own surprise and coming to terms with what is going on.  By the moving conclusion, I think you'll agree that the film has indeed found its sea legs -- as has, in his own way, our "hero."

Against the Current, via Sundance Selects, premiered On-Demand this past week and will continued to be available from most TV reception providers for the next two to three months.  Click here to find out if yours offer it and how to get it.

(All photos are from the film itself, except that of the director, 

which is by Larry Busacca, courtesy of Getty Images.)