Xavier Dolan and his continuing MOMMY problems come to the fore once more

Xavier Dolan, the French-Canadian boy-wonder is at it again. The currently 25-year-old writer/director -- I Killed My Mother, Heartbeats, Laurence Anyways (we haven't been theatrically graced yet with 2013's Tom at the Farm) -- is still having some trouble growing up. Hell, so do we all. But most of us do not make overlong, boring and repetitive movies (yes, with some brilliant stuff in them, now and again) out of the experience. MOMMY, Dolan's latest endeavor, is yet another look, in pointlessly small-screen mode (more of this later) at an extremely troubled relationship between mother and son.

M. Dolan, pictured at left (photo by Alberto E. Rodriguez, courtesy of Getty Images), generally chooses some excellent actors to use as bait and gives them surprising, often shocking stuff to say and do. Initially, we're hooked. And then, little by little -- at least for those of us who want more than a lot of repeated yelling, cursing and getting all in-your-face -- we become so annoyed and tired of it all that we slowly remove ourselves from that hook. And so it is here: for every fine acting moment and bit of choice dialog, there are several more that grow awfully wearisome.

We should probably begin our critique with the opening credit explanation that Dolan feeds us, explaining that his movie is set in some slightly distant future when Canada has passed a new law that, if I am remembering correctly, gives parents the right to hospitalize their problemed offspring as wards of the state. I am assuming he must do this because, as Canada now stands, what happens in the movie could not happen without this slightly "otherwise" circumstance. But since the film is all about fraught relations between mother (Anne Dorval, above) and teenage child (Antoine-Olivier Pilon, below), a not particularly unusual problem, one would think that the filmmaker could have handled this without this pointless if-things-were-otherwise element.

Further, Dolan has elected to shoot almost all of his film in an aspect ratio the IMDB calls 1:1. This is ridiculously narrow, like watching an 8-1/2 x 11 piece of paper on screen. (Even more so because we are always aware that the movie's frame is not properly filled out.) Well, thought I, he'll soon open up to wider proportions. Hah. We wait almost two hours before the filmmaker finally decides to grace us with width -- and then it's only for a brief fantasy segment in which the characters appear to be have aged into better versions of their former selves. Ah, a few feel-good moments thanks to wide-screen!

Otherwise, Mommy is mostly all screaming and fighting and then making up (briefly) before starting all over again. A neighbor (Suzanne Clément, above) who has her own problems -- speech and communication among them -- gets involved with our pair, as mom's friend and son's "caretaker," and this of course leads to further "fraughtness." After now seeing four of Dolan's films, several things seem clear. Our boy likes 'em lengthy (this one runs two hours and twenty minutes) and repetitive. There are enough of what you'd call plot and content here to last an hour or so. The rest is filler, though handled at times with great passion.

Passion, along with connection and relationships, are Dolan's aces-in-the-hole -- even if all these seem to have no real consequences along the way -- until at last we get to the point that the filmmaker has been promising since that opening credit explanation. Consequence does not even exist, it seems, regarding the poor teenager whose face our boy earlier burned almost beyond recognition in the group home in which they both lived. But I guess that's OK somehow because, hey, it's all been so "passionate." If you've seen several of Dolan's oeuvre and then encounter Mommy, you may want, as do I, to make a small suggestion: Fucking grow up, Xavier! Or at least give us movies that do.

Mommy, from Roadside Attractions, opens today in New York City (at the Landmark Sunshine Cinema and the Elinor Bunin Munroe Film Center) and in the West Los Angeles at The Landmark.  It was, by the way, the Canadian entry for this year's Best Foreign Language Film.

Kate Barker-Froyland's SONG ONE: All about the Brooklyn music scene & crossing the street safely

The music scene in Brooklyn, New York, is certainly worth learning about (and listening to) but it turns out that understanding how to cross a street safely is the more important thing in SONG ONE, the pleasant little first-full-length film from a woman by the name of Kate Barker-Froyland. As good as is the music created by the character, Henry, whom we see first in this movie, his street crossing skills are so inept that he quickly ends up in a coma in the hospital -- which then whisks us off to Morocco, where his sister, Franny, gets word of the accident and rushes home to be at his side. I don't think I'm giving away heavy-duty spoilers here, as all this occurs within the film's first few minutes, but I do worry that crossing the street is something for which we may be losing our abilities, as this is the second such accident in a movie in as many weeks (the great and wonderful film, Still Life, ending its theatrical run today, offers up this fraught street-crossing event, too).

Ms Barker-Froyland, shown at right, is intent on bringing to life the Brooklyn music scene as it exists either now, or just a bit ago, as well as healing family bonds (Franny and Henry were not speaking, and their mom is yet another problem in the mix), as well as providing a sweet love story. She succeeds -- to some extent, at least -- in all three of these endea-vors, yet does not really fill any of them to the max.

Two of the movie's three plot arcs are pretty predictable; the third offers a beguiling little surprise, ending the film with more subtlety and charm than we'd expected. So, overall, I'd give Song One a recommendation, especially if sweet stories and folk music are your thing. And if you're a fan of Anne Hathaway (above) and her enormous eyes, then I'd suggest a definite look-see.

Some of the music is enjoyable, too, in a light kind of way (the music in Rudderless, out now on DVD, is much better), as performed by singer/actor Johnny Flynn, above, who plays the iconic hero of Henry and a sort-of love interest for Franny. Mr. Flynn also plays a fellow who is having a very lengthy case of writer's block, music style, and perhaps this has worn into his performance, which seems always a little bit tired and lacking energy.

Not so with the mother of the family, above, left, played very well by Mary Steenburgen. Son Henry is mostly in that hospital bed, so actor Ben Rosenfield (above, right) doesn't get much of a chance to shine but makes the most of the little non-comatose screen time he gets.

Overall, the movie goes by relatively painlessly, and at only 85 minutes it certainly doesn't over-extend its stay. From Cinedigm, Song One opens this Friday, January 23, in a very limited run. Here in New York City it will play the Angelika Film Center, and in the Los Angeles area at the Arclight, Sherman Oaks. Elsewhere? Not sure, but Cinedigm will be releasing a DVD of the film at the end of March. Click here and then scroll down for more info. 

Blu-ray/DVDebut: James Mottern & Emilio Mauro's munchkin Mafia saga, BY THE GUN

TrustMovies uses the term "munchkin" in his headline for two reasons. One is that this odd little movie is very much Mafia-lite, and second, because of the small-in-stature, large-in-talent actor, Toby Jones, who acquits himself quite well as one of the Cosa Nostra's higher-level under-lings. Otherwise, although the film -- written by Emilio Mauro and directed by James Mottern (below) -- begins with some small promise of something a bit different, it soon degenerates into utter nonsense.

The film begins with our anti-hero, Nick (Ben Barnes) picking the pockets/ wallets of the two young ladies with whom he has clearly just spent the night. We soon learn that he is "connected" to a local Mafia figure (played by Harvey Keitel, below) and is longing to become a "made man." Before you can say, Don't do it, he's also involved with a pretty young lady (Leighton Meester, further below) whose dad is another local Mafia figure.

There is one interesting scene of the supposed ceremony surrounding that of a newly "made" man. Otherwise, performances are as good as they can be, given the generally problematic dialog that often sounds as if it had been written simply to advance the feeble plot. With conversation that seems to be used mostly for vamping, midway along there is perhaps the single longest and most drawn-out Will-he-or-will-he-not-pull-the-trigger? scene in the history of movies, easily going past suspense and surprise into the annals of unintentional camp.

No one here behaves in a manner you could even begin to call "normal," and so, after awhile, you lose any expectation of caring about what happens. Worse, whenever the screenwriter can't seem to decide what to do with his characters, he simply kills them off. Hey, that's easy! And though most performances are at least adequate, the lead one from Mr. Barnes is not. Sorry, but this guy is too busy trying to be a sex symbol to even approach the level of "junior" don.

Probably the best performance, other than Mr. Jones' (above), comes from a surprising source: the rapper/actor named Slaine (below), who, as an Irish outsider who hates all the Italians, gives a consistently ugly, angry, stops-out performance.

By the Gun, from Millennium Entertainment (recently renamed Alchemy) and running 110 minutes, hit the streets this past Tuesday, January 20, on DVD and Blu-ray. 

She wuz robbed! Jennifer Aniston is terrific in Barnz and Tobin's smart and deeply-felt CAKE

Well, she got a Golden Globes nod, but nothing from those classier awards, the "Oscars." Over her more than 25-year career, Jennifer Aniston has given a number for first-class performances (have you seen The Good Girl or Life of Crime?), occasionally in movies that were anything but. Nothing I've as yet seen this attractive and gifted actress do begins to compare with her work in CAKE, the new movie about a woman who spends her waking hours either sedated or in heavy-duty pain. Why she's in this state is told us in fits and starts by the intelligent, riveting screenplay by Patrick Tobin and directed extremely well -- neither overdone nor under-done -- by Daniel Barnz (of Phoebe in Wonderland and Won't Back Down). This is Barnz's best work by far.

If the movie sounds like a recipe for depression, be assured that, while it does not skirt the state of being in constant pain -- which Ms Aniston brings to full and horrific life -- the actress is so alive and on target with each thought that crosses her mind and emotion that fills her face, that she keeps us at near-constant attention and, yes, delight. She's that good. (If you have ever experienced any lengthy and severe pain, you'll be aware of how well the actress captures the body movements that must accompany this.) And Mr. Barnz, shown at left, uses just the right touch to bring her story to solid, alternately awful and funny, life. And although the actress, below, looks far from her usual, sporty glamour, her perfor-mance is less a make-up tour de force than genuine, from-the-gut acting.

Fortunately for the film, Tobin and Barnz have more on their mind than simple story-telling. Instead, they give us a lot of fantasy and flashback -- often merging the two into the kind of thing that someone on a combo of pain and prescription drugs might experience.

These most often consist of the use of actress Anna Kendrick (above) -- in what is certainly one of her more bizarre roles -- as the dead woman who once belonged to the "Pain" support group to which Claire (Aniston's character's name) also belonged.

Also vital to the story's success is the character played by Adriana Barraza (above, right) as Claire's caregiver and all-round support. Having myself experienced the joys of a first-class care-giver (we had one who assisted my spouse's mother, who lived with us for the last decade of her life), I can vouch for the importance of a person like this, as well as to the great depth and truth -- all the love that she shows, in addition to the necessary anger -- in Ms Barraza's fine performance.

Yes, there are some men in Claire's life, too: one from the past -- her ex-husband, played beautifully by Chris Messina (above) -- and a new one, played with cracked charm by Sam Worthington (below). There are some children, too, one of which occupies a very special place in things and whom we do not see for quite awhile.

Cake turns out to be about not just pain but loss, too: the major kind that will remain for the rest of one's life. Without becoming at all maudlin or pushing for tears, the movie probes the psychological aspects of Claire's pain and why, even with the all exercises and therapy she has completed, no relief is yet in sight.

Through it all, Ms Aniston keeps her hurt, her anger and her humor front and center. It's that last one, dark and dirty as it often is, that helps keep the movie blasting on all cylinders. In the supporting cast are a wealth of fine performers, with special commen-dation to actors such as William H. Macy (shown at left) as a sudden re-intruder into our heroine's life, and Felicity Huffman as the put-upon leader of that women-in-pain support group.

The movie -- from Cinelou and running 102 minutes -- opens this Friday in New York City at the AMC Loew's Lincoln Square 13, in L.A. at the AMC Century City 15, and in the Chicago area at Showplace Icon at the Roosevelt Collection with Icon IX, and probably elsewhere, too.

Brawny boys brave bottom of the BLACK SEA in Kevin Macdonalds' new submarine-set thriller

We haven't seen a good submarine epic (or near-epic) in some time (David Twohy's marvelous WWII genre-jumper, Below, is the last I can recall), so getting a new one via the worthwhile filmmaker Kevin Macdonald (How I Live Now and My Enemy's Enemy) is a welcome addition to the small pack. Mr. Macdonald, shown below, is a professional, versatile journeyman director and occasional writer whose work is usually a pleasure to view. He does not disappoint here, either, although his latest effort, BLACK SEA, proves a little too long (at a nearly two-hour length), while offering up a few too many cliches (the nut-case crew member who should never have been allowed on this voyage, but well, there he is, anyway) for maximum impact.

Yet, if Black Sea stays a tad this side of maximum, it still proves mightily enjoyable: smartly fast-paced, well-cast and -acted, and burnished with a number of first-class special effects that should often keep you, as they say, glued to the screen. Screenwriter Dennis Kelly has set up situation and character introductions with speed and efficiency, and in Macdonald's strong hands, the well-chosen cast brings it all to sharp and immediate life. The movie's capable lead actor Jude Law, below, plays a seaman who is downsized from his job in the first scene, then soon finds himself involved in a plot to find some gold long buried at sea via the sinking of a Russian ship during World War II. If the story seems a tad "manufactured," well, we're in thriller territory: Best to not ask too many questions and simply "get on with it."

While Mr. Law (shown above and below) has lost some (but not nearly all) of his pretty-boy looks as age has overtaken his face with lines and growths, he has lost none of the particular magnetism he's long possessed. Here, he helps to hold not simply the crew of his submarine together but the movie itself.

"Getting on with it" is something Macdonald handles in spades, as we're thrust into a crew made up of half Brits and half Russians, with one odd and claustrophobic American (Scoot McNairy, below) tossed in for good measure (and plot mechanics).

The wild card in the bunch is played by Aussie actor Ben Mendelsohn (below), who is always good and often quite scary. Here, he seems initially more subdued than usual (but every bit as creepy), though it is not long before he explodes, nearly taking the entire ship along with him.

Though it was made clear early on that this kind of guy should not be part of the mission, Law's Captain takes him anyway (one of those nonsensical decisions/cliches that lessens the strength of the film), and some of his crew then lives -- or dies -- to regret it.

The Russian side of the equation gets less of our attention due to the language barrier but is brought to intelligent and gruff life by actors the likes of Grigory Dobrygin (above) and Sergey Puskepalis (below).

Along the way, we get a few surprises (one very big one), some undersea exploration in diving suits, explosions, betrayals, and the usual -- suspenseful and also surprising -- question, typical of this kind of movie: Who will survive?

It all adds up to propulsive, if somewhat been-there-done-that, fun and games, with men just being men, in all their raging alpha-dog vs kindly mentor-type array, so we can take our pick of whom to root for and/or denounce.

Black Sea -- from Focus Features and running 115 minutes -- opens this Friday, January 23, on both U.S. coasts and across the U.S. the following Friday, January 30.

Butterflies, S&M sex games, an all-female society and Borgen's Sidse Babett Knudsen highlight Peter Strickland's THE DUKE OF BURGUNDY

Not having been blown away (I was mildly impressed) with Peter Strickland's last film, Berberian Sound Studio, TrustMovies was at least more prepared for this auteur's newest ramble into the kind of bizarre visual world that can only be accessed via film. In its opening moments, THE DUKE OF BURGUNDY (the title refers to Hamearis lucina, a butterfly also known by this titular name) initially seems like a typically lovely European film: gorge-ous photography of a small country village, with babbling stream, plentiful greenery and charming architecture.

Ah, but what mysteries reside in this bucolic landscape! For one thing, there ain't no men. That's right: We're in a world of only women, no matter where we turn or go or look or lay our head, at work or at play -- it's all gals, all the time. Interestingly, nothing is made of this fact. It simply exists as a given.

Are we in an alternate universe in which men don't exist? Or this this some strange, fantasy dream? (The movie does indeed seem like a dream -- if not an outright nightmare -- from time to time.) Could this be meant as something psychological -- men's fears/fantasies of what women would get up to if given their rein/ reign? You'd have to ask these questions of writer/director Strick-land, pictured at right, and even then, the fellow might not be so forthcoming, for film-makers often prefer that you work a bit to ferret out meanings.

Meaning may not come so easily here, but I think you will have some fun and games just watching the goings-ons, which involve two attractive and sensual women, one of whom -- Sidse Babett Knudsen, at left, above, who played the lead in one of  the best television series ever made (Borgen, from Denmark) -- is worth seeing here in quite a different role.

The other woman, Chiara D'Anna, above, left, is younger, less tutored and more subservient. Or so it would seem. The Duke of Burgundy is also about role playing and shifting identities. Like a dream, the movie floats along, refusing to be pinned down. It is also, like a dream, quite repetitive, except that dreams, or so they tell us, take place very quickly. This one goes on for 104 minutes, which is good deal longer than its content -- however bizarre, sensual and transgressive it initially seems -- can handle.

Still, amidst the re-occurring sexual games there are a few upticks along the way, the chief among these being the visit to our pair by a woman (Eugenia Caruso, above) who specializes in what appears to be the procuring of some very odd sexual equipment for the bathroom. Along the way, you'll take stock of this relationship and realize that it is probably quite difficult to keep an S&M bond fresh and fun when one partner has an urgent need for masochism while the other isn't truly a sadist.

You may also imagine that you've wandered into a movie made by Radley Metzger, now working in tandem with Peter Greenaway -- not a particularly happy blend. Someone has called this film a melodrama, but it is hardly that. Or at least not a good melodrama -- which needs pace and plot and a little fire. After an initial viewing, The Duke of Burgundy seems all naughty titillation trying to approach sophisticated decadence.

Fun for awhile and certainly sometimes a visual treat, the movie -- from Sundance Selects/IFC Films -- opens this Friday, January 23, in New York City (at the IFC Center) and Los Angeles (at Landmark's NuArt), and simultaneously on VOD in most major markets.

Digital debut: New Orleans losers inhabit Eddie Jemison/Sean Richardson's KING OF HERRINGS

It has been awhile since any movie's rubbed me as thoroughly the wrong way as did this odd little film. I admit that tackling a story about four male losers and two of their women (a sister and wife) -- in which the leading loser is such a waste of time, not to mention verbiage -- has got to be a tricky endeavor. How far can you go in presenting your leading man as an all-stops-out asshole (or as he might put it, a cunt) before completely alienating your audience? Good question. For the answer, see -- if you dare -- KING OF HERRINGS.

The film's a group effort that is finally and mostly the product of one man -- Eddie Jemison (shown at left) who wrote, co-directed, co-produced and stars in the leading role -- at whose feet one can lay the praise or blame. I hope Mr. Jemison wears a size 15 shoe. Pace the late John Cassavetes whose black-and-white early American "art" movies Jemison has surely seen and here tries to ape, but it takes more than decent b/w cinematography and men behaving not just badly but ultra-stupidly to create something redeeming.

That cinematography and its editing, both by co-director Sean Richardson, is worth seeing -- though in the initial scene at a railway station, it takes awhile to get one's footing/viewing. Soon we're in a practically empty bar, watching our quartet of males, led by Jemison's character "Ditch," behaving in an irredeemably dumb way. As the movie goes along, this guy just gets worse and less believable with each scene.

OK: Maybe this is just "guys being guys." But there is a limit. Pushing the envelope is one thing, but Jemison rolls it into a ball, stomps on it and then sets it ablaze. Ditch's behavior is so thoroughly out of line in every way that you simply can't believe that the other three "friends" would tolerate him for more than a few minutes. These include the tall and lanky Gat (David Jensen, on poster at top and above, right), Artie aka The Professor (Joe Chrest, below, left) and Leon (Wayne Pére, below, right, and two photos above), the best-looking but also the shyest of the four, who is relegated to using a voice box in order to speak and be heard.

The women are played by Laura Lamson (below, right, and at bottom) as Ditch's wife, Mary, and Andrea Frankle (below, left), as his sister, Evie. Both do an excellent job, with Ms Lamson in particular able to create a whole character and space around herself via a quiet but insistent strength. This goes a long way in making the movie worth sitting through.

Jealousy, desire, shame, anger and mostly stupidity keep the ball rolling along here, but the movie's weakest link is its very tenuous hold on reality. None of these guys seem to have a job, save The Prof, who -- wait for it -- sells magazine subscriptions for a living. Granted we're in the New Orleans area, post-Katrina and the Gulf Oil Spill, but still, we've all got to earn our keep. How these guys even afford a meal is questionable.

The one character who at least has a job is the owner of the cafe (John Mese, above) in which the quartet hangs out. Some homoerotic stuff comes to the fore along the way in a particularly bizarre scene in which Ditch threatens Leon by helping him take a piss, complementing him on his cock in the process. At other times, you may find yourself wondering if these are gays simply pretending to be straight. There is finally a feeling here that this whole story and group of characters were created simply to give these particular performers, especially Mr. Jemison, the chance to go whole hog, all-stops-out, & "act" themselves silly. Unfortunately, they do.

King of Herrings, via Devolver, becomes available on Digital VOD this Tuesday, January 20, via outlets such as iTunes, Amazon Instant Video, VHX, Vimeo-on-Demand, Google Play, Gumroad, YouTube Rentals and elsewhere.