The Overlooked OWNING MAHOWNY Celebrates Its 10th Anniversary

Despite positive critical notice including a 4 star review from Roger Ebert who also listed it among 2003’s best films, Richard Kwietniowski’s OWNING MAHOWNY has been pretty overlooked in the decade since its release. I mean, if one thinks of Philip Seymour Hoffman in the early to mid Aughts, his roles in PUNCH DRUNK LOVE, 25TH HOUR, RED DRAGON, LOVE LIZA, and, of course, his real breakthrough CAPOTE will most likely will come to mind before his turn as the gambling addicted Canadian Dan Mahowny.

The character is based on Brian Molony, a clerk who embezzled millions from the Canadian Imperial Bank of Commerce to fund his gambling habit in the early ‘80s. Hoffman’s portrayal of Mahowny is one of a well dressed schlub who appears to only be comfortable when he’s sitting at a table in a casino playing blackjack, baccarat, roulette, or craps.

As a Atlantic City casino manager who wants to take full advantage of Hoffman’s habit, John Hurt observes that Mahowny only has the one true vice: “No sex, no booze, no drugs…our little roller is a purist. All he cares about is the next hand.”

That’s certainly the case when it comes to Hoffman’s girlfriend, Minnie Driver in a bad blonde wig, who is kept in the dark about his addiction until he takes her to Las Vegas and she realizes that his purpose there isn’t to propose to her.

OWNING MAHOWNY is shelved next to Wayne Kramer’s THE COOLER in my mental movie database for a couple of obvious reasons: they’re gambling movies that came out the same year, and they both star guys who were in Paul Thomas Anderson’s BOOGIE NIGHTS (1997). Both are also veterans of late ‘90s Coen Brothers’ movies (Hoffman in THE BIG LEBOWSKI; Macy in FARGO), which I bring up because Macy’s Jerry Lundegaard character in FARGO and Hoffman’s Mahowny have both gotten themselves entangled in huge financial problems. Macy isn’t a gambler in the gamer sense, but his poorly planned solutions involving his wife’s kidnapping and a sketchy real estate deal constitute some high stakes no matter which way you look at it.

However, Macy’s roles in FARGO and THE COOLER couldn’t be more different. His Lundegaaard is a conniving immoral jerk, while THE COOLER’s Bernie Lootz is a lovable yet extremely unlucky everyman. Hoffman would know immediately to steer clear of Macy the second his eyes fell upon him walking in the door of the fictional Shangri-La. Odds are that Alec Baldwin’s casino boss wouldn’t be as fascinated as Hurt is by Hoffman.

But let’s get back to the film in its own right. So as Hoffman’s Mahowny gets deeper and deeper into a hole, investigators are monitoring his every move. All the while Hoffman’s nonchalance and cold indifference to everything but the game is reflected in the cold sterile surroundings of the casinos and the bank’s board rooms. Thrown in the mix is Maury Chaykin in a great role as a sleazy bookie, who’s too stupefied by Hoffman’s business practices to resort to violence, even though he’s owed over 10 grand.

Mahowny never admits he has a gambling problem. “I have a…financial problem. A shortfall” is all he says about it when under interrogation. Hoffman well conveys the nature of a man who lives inside his head, taking his time to answer people’s questions in an aloof yet not awkward manner. The character could be seen as a comment on the unassuming, plainspoken personalities of Canadian gamblers, but the loneliness of this slave to the game is pure Hoffman,

OWNING MAHOWNY isn’t a masterpiece or even one of the best gambling movies out there, but it’s a well acted, neatly plotted, little sleeper that deserves a viewing. With its backdrop being that of the Canadian gambling industry we see the flashy side of the wheeling and dealing from behind the scenes where players are monitored by drably dressed men in charge. These elements are better seen as background fodder from one’s cozy safe home, rather than really experienced by risk takers in the raw.



Hoffman’s portrayal of Mahowny isn’t a star making turn or a revelation for the actor, but it’s a stepping stone of a role that led to greater heights – there’s little bit of the cold calculation of this character in his performance of the L. Ron Hubbard-ish Lancaster Dodd in last year’s misunderstood Paul Thomas Anderson epic THE MASTER for instance.

Hurt’s part as the on top of his game (and everyone else’s) casino kingpin is also pleasing, albeit in a very different tone and demeanor than Hoffman’s. It’s telling that the actor worked with writer/director Kwietniowski on the films LOVE AND DEATH ON LONG ISLAND (1997) and REGRET NOT SPEAKING (2011) before and after this production. A solid working relationship appears to be on ample display here.

OWNING MAHOWNY is a different kind of gambling movie than the usual razzle dazzle – one that breaks down the obsessive methods behind putting everything on the line.

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The Film Babble Blog Top 10 Movies Of 2012

Yeah, I know it’s the end of January, but I had a bunch of movies to catch up with so back off! 2012 wasn’t really a bad year for film, but it was far from fantastic. Looking at the top ten highest grossing films of the year, I see that all of them were franchise entries.

Maybe 2012 was the most formulaic year for film ever, I dunno, but I do know that there were some worthwhile films that stood out from the usual glut of super hero sequels and here they are - Film Babble Blog’s Top 10:

1. THE MASTER (Dir. Paul Thomas Anderson)

The immaculate imagery provided by cinematographer Mihai Malaimare Jr., the layered construction of Anderson’s screenplay, and the powerful performances by Philip Seymour Hoffman, Joaquin Phoenix, and Amy Adams (who ought to win the Oscar just for having to sit nude except for a pregnant-belly prosthetic in a central surreal scene), all make up the most memorably stirring movie of the year. Shame on the Academy for not nominating it for Best Picture. Read my review. 

2. HOLY MOTORS (Dir. Leos Carax)

The freakiest film of the year is also one of the most invigorating. French film maker Carax gives us Denis Lavant as the eccentric Mr. Oscar, whom we watch being driven around Paris by his associate Céline (Édith Scob) in a white limousine that functions as his dressing room to various odd jobs. And I do mean odd. Read my full review here.

3. ARGO (Dir. Ben Affleck) 

Another shameful omission by the Academy was Affleck for Best Director for this superb thriller, but some are predicting that it will win Best Picture to make up for it. I would be cool with that because his terrific take on the joint CIA-Canadian secret operation that used the ruse of a sci-fi film production to rescue a group of American diplomats from Iran’s clutches in 1980 is well deserving. Read my full review. 

4. BERNIE (Dir. Richard Linklater) 

Linklater’s 15th film takes the true story of a Texas mortician (played to perfection by Jack Black) who kills a wealthy widow (a sharp harpie depiction by Shirley MacClaine), and makes a matter-of-fact comic docudrama out of it that really works. Read my full review here.

5. SKYFALL (Dir. Sam Mendes)

Who expected that the return of the iconic superspy after a four year hiatus would yield an Oscar caliber James Bond movie? I sure didn’t. I’m happy to have it as Daniel Craig’s third outing as 007 isn’t just one of the best of the series, it’s one of the best full throttle action films in years. Read my full review.

For my full reviews of the rest – please click on the highlighted titles:

6. LINCOLN (Dir. Steven Spielberg)

7. SAMSARA (Dir. Ron Fricke)

8. MOONRISE KINGDOM (Dir. Wes Anderson)

9. LOOPER (Dir. Rian Johnson)

10. ZERO DARK THIRTY (Dir. Kathryn Bigelow)

Now bring on 2013! Again, I know it’s a month into it, but go with me on this. 

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THE MASTER: A Complicated Yet Beautiful Dream I’m Still Processing

THE MASTER (Dir. Paul Thomas Anderson, 2012)

The impact of the amazing imagery in Paul Thomas Anderson’s follow-up to 2007’s THERE WILL BE BLOOD is immediate. Opening shots of the frothy ocean from above are vividly captured by the camera of cinematographer Mihai Malaimare Jr., as is the following sequence of American soldiers on a tropical beach at the end of World War II. However, the impact of the narrative, as it shapes, isn’t as immediate, for this is a film that viewers will still be processing way after it ends.

Joaquin Phoenix, looking more haggard than usual, plays one of the soldiers, and his chief characteristics are that he’s a horny drunkard. So much so that he can’t keep the department store photographer job he gets shortly after returning to the states, because of the effects of his homemade moonshine. That also leads to the end of his next occupation, as a cabbage picker, when one of his fellow workers swigs too much of Phoenix’s toxic concoction, and may die of poisoning.

Phoenix bolts out of there, at first chased by other pickers, and stows away on a ritzy riverboat where he meets Philip Seymour Hoffman, as the charismatic leader of a new religious movement called “The Cause.” Oh, yeah, in case you haven’t heard – this is the movie that’s supposedly based on Scientology, and Hoffman is allegedly based on writer/Church of Scientology founder L. Ron Hubbard.

It’s impossible not to think about that when Phoenix undergoes intense questioning by Hoffman, i.e. auditing, and when vague yet lofty theological platitudes are tossed around. Hoffman sees through Phoenix, but still takes him on as a protégé. Hoffman’s family, including wife Amy Adams, daughter Ambyr Childers, and son-in-law Rami Malek are skeptical of Phoenix, although it’s obvious Childers has a thing for him, but Hoffman apparently sees something in him that reminds him of his younger self, or, maybe, he just wants him around to make more of that powerful moonshine.

Despite that Phoenix pines for a girl he left behind when he went to war, played by Madisen Beaty in a scene that I’m not sure if is imagined or not, he appears to want to screw every woman in sight. In a party scene hosted at the house of a benefactor played by Laura Dern, Phoenix envisions every woman in the nude as Hoffman sings a bawdy song. Except for the men who all remained clothed, his imagination doesn’t discriminate age-wise, and even a pregnant seated Amy Adams (who looks very uncomfortable) is naked.

Phoenix doesn’t seem to pay attention to the philosophies of the cult around him, and Anderson’s screenplay really doesn’t either. When Hoffman’s son, played by Jesse Plemmons (amusingly recently referred to as Meth Damon on a A.V. Club message board because of his role on Breakin’ Bad and resemblance to Matt Damon), asks Phoenix “Don’t you know he’s making it all up as he goes along?” it doesn’t really register.

Figuring out what’s supposed to register in THE MASTER will be quite a sport this season. Many will be turned off by the coldness of the production, but no doubt will endlessly discuss it.
The film’s wide scope, which was shot in 70 mm, can be overwhelming, even when it’s only focusing on a few faces in the frame. Or just one – mostly Phoenix’s gritty mug, but the red sweaty pores of Hoffman’s cheeks get exhaustingly explored as well.

Phoenix nails the adrift emptiness of a man who just wants to go with the flow, as long as booze and loose woman are part of that flow. Hoffman’s religion may be bullshit to him, but it’s still something to grasp onto, or at least the trappings around it.

I got lost in the engulfing experience that was “The Master,” and believe it’s one of the year’s best films. Each of Anderson’s films has an angle on the American right to the pursuit of happiness, whether it be gained through drilling oil (THERE WILL BE BLOOD), the business of pornography (BOOGIE NIGHTS), crime (HARD EIGHT), romance (PUNCH DRUNK LOVE), or pure chance (MAGNOLIA).

Here, Anderson’s angle is much more difficult to pinpoint, but because of the incredible luscious look of the film, the meticulous acting (both Hoffman and Phoenix’s sharp performances will surely garner award season attention), the precision of the writing, and the excellently fierce and sometimes frightening score by Jonny Greenwood, maybe that doesn’t matter.

The only major thing I can pinpoint is that THE MASTER is that it’s like a complicated yet beautiful dream. Just wait ‘til later to ask me what it means though, I’m still processing it.

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THE IDES OF MARCH: The Film Babble Blog Review

THE IDES OF MARCH (Dir. George Clooney, 2011)

Ryan Gosling continues his dominance of the silver screen this year in George Clooney’s 4th film as director, a political drama that’s flawed yet still a gem.



As a presidential campaign advisor, Gosling utilizes the same cool confidence he had in last month’s DRIVE in his back room dealings to get Clooney, as a Democratic Pennsylvania Governor, into the White House.



Gosling answers to Philip Seymour Hoffman as Clooney’s harried campaign manager whose rival on the competing Republican candidate’s team is Paul Giamatti, which is great because I’ve wanted to see Hoffman and Giamatti in a film together for ages.



Hence the title, the film takes place in March right before the crucial Ohio primary and deals with a scandalous secret involving a young staffer (Evan Rachel Wood) who Gosling has a fling with.



Wood just happens to be the daughter of the present head of the National Democratic Party, so a tangled web is being weaved when Gosling learns incredibly damaging information about his man in the race.



Giamatti wants to woo Gosling over to his side, and that might not be such a far-fetched option, but not one he’s going to leak to Marissa Tomei, Hoffman’s co-star from BEFORE THE DEVIL KNOWS YOU'RE DEAD, as a New York Times Reporter.



To have these big names reciting lofty dialogue in this tightly directed film goes a long way. Sure, it’s a story we’ve heard many times before about corruption and compromise, idealism vs. empty ambition, but with these acting heavyweights aided by a sharp screenplay it’s an essential experience.



Except for a few major moments, Clooney mainly stays in the background while Gosling carries the movie. It builds to a chilling confrontation between the 2 men that I really wish television ad spots for the film wouldn’t show clips of. It’s not a spoiler that ruins the movie, but it’s still a little too revealing.



THE IDES OF MARCH doesn’t reach the heights of Clooney’s GOOD NIGHT AND GOOD LUCK, for there are some convolutions in the plot mechanics. It’s a bit of a stretch to believe that Gosling alone would be able to manipulate the situation so cunningly, but the film gets so close to brilliance that it’s easy to look past such gaps in logic.



With a stellar cast, excellent cinematography by Phaedon Pappamichael, an un-imposing score by Alexandre Desplat, and a screenplay written by Clooney, Grant Heslov, and Beau Willimon (the film is based on Willimon’s play “Farragut North”), this is certainly the definition of a prestige picture, or more crudely Oscar bait.



It does has power aplenty to take it through to awards season, but I bet it will hailed more for its performances over any statement about dirty politics that it tries to make.



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MONEYBALL: The Film Babble Blog Review

MONEYBALL (Dir. Bennett Miller, 2011)

 

Some of the best camaraderie I’ve seen on the big screen lately is in the exchanges between Brad Pitt and Jonah Hill throughout this unorthodox take on the traditional inspirational sports story.

Pitt plays the real-life Billy Beane, the general manager of the Oakland Athletics, who recruits Hill, as a Yale economy major based on Paul DePodesta, to help him think outside the box in putting together a baseball team on an extremely low budget.

There’s a delicious deadpan thing happening with Pitt and Hill as they employ a statistical approach to scouting for new players, no doubt due to the thoroughy witty screenplay written by Aaron Sorkin and Steven Zaillian. It’s a pleasure to see Pitt as basically a regular relatable guy - a divorced dad who is driven to shake things up in his career - trading ideas with Hill, in one of his most likable and believable roles.

A dour Philip Seymour Hoffman, as the field manager of the team, doesn’t quite get what Pitt and Hill are up to so there are some flare-ups, but a rag tag roster of players is assembled (including Chris Pratt, Stephen Bishop, Casey Bond, and Royce Clayton) that pulls off a 20-game winning streak.

Despite such factors as Pitt’s overly precocious daughter (Kerris Dorsey) and his ex-wife (a barely registering Robin Wright), there’s not much of an emotional impact to this material, but the backroom break-downs which make up the bulk of this film are engaging enough to draw one in.

Subdued yet extremely sharp, MONEYBALL isn’t a movie just for baseball fanatics, it’s for anybody who enjoys character driven drama about people experimenting with new methods with compelling determination. Pitt provides one of his most down to earth performances that carries the film superbly, and the inventive pairing of him with Hill works way better than one would think.

Not being a baseball guy, or a sports guy at all for that matter, I was surprised at how much I enjoyed this film. It has the drive of the best docudramas – the ones that educate as much as they entertain – and folks should walk away with a good sense of how a couple of everyday guys can really be gamechangers.



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JACK GOES BOATING: The Film Babble Blog Review

JACK GOES BOATING (Dir. Philip Seymour Hoffman, 2010)

Like the films of many first time directors, Philip Seymour Hoffman's debut is a filmed play. The play being Bob Glaudini's off Broadway 2007 production of the same name.

Hoffman reprises his role as Jack with John Ortiz and Daphne Rubin-Vega also reprising their stage roles.

Amy Ryan (The Wire, The Office, GONE BABY GONE) replaces Beth Cole in the part of Hoffman's love interest.

The story is as spare as can be - Hoffman is a reclusive reggae loving limousine driving New Yorker whose married friends (Ortiz and Rubin-Vega) want to set him up on a date with Ryan - a just as reclusive employee at a local funeral home.

Hoffman and Ryan plan to go on a boating trip when it gets warmer.

In the meantime, they agree to an "official date before the boating date" in which Jack will cook dinner for the 2 couples.

It's an odd rambling evening with confessional speeches mixed with drugs and a lot of awkwardness.

This film really takes its time and it can be a bit trying, but its emotional messiness never feels phony. Hoffman puts in some of his finest acting and gets nuanced and nervy performances out of his co-stars.

In the end JACK GOES BOATING is the small unimposing work of a professional actor yet amateur director.

Hoffman makes a number of interesting visual choices that show he was paying attention when he worked with some of the greatest film makers of the last 20 years - Paul Thomas Anderson, Spike Lee, the Coen Brothers, Sydney Lumet, et al.

Although it defines the phrase "promising debut", I bet with more ambitious material Hoffman will make a more substantial mark than with this likable, though lackluster lark.

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