Redford’s Vanity Project THE COMPANY YOU KEEP Is A Star-studded Dud

Opening today in Raleigh at the Colony Theater and the Raleigh Grande:

THE COMPANY YOU KEEP 

(Dir. Robert Redford, 2013)

Robert Redford’s ninth film as director, and 39th as actor, is polished and moves along briskly, but its tired political themes and its preachiness exposes what it really is: a vanity project. 

Redford’s character, a widowed public interest lawyer living comfortably in Albany, New York, was once part of the Weather Underground, a radical organization formed in the late ‘60s with the intent to overthrow the U.S. Government. Redford changed his identity in the late ‘70s as he is wanted by the F.B.I. for his alleged involvement in a Michigan bank robbery back then which resulted in the murder of a security guard.

The cast is full of famous faces who have gone into hiding like Redford, including Susan Sarandon, Nick Nolte, Julie Christie, Richard Jenkins, and Stephen Root. Intrepid scruffy Albany Sun Times reporter Shia Labeouf makes the connections between them that lead to Redford being exposed as a former antiwar radical and the chase is on.

Redford was ready for this with a stash of fake I.D.s, cash and a baseball cap as part of an ingenious disguise when in public, as well as custody papers for his brother (Chris Cooper) so that he can take care of Redford’s daughter (Jackie Evancho). This gives Redford the chance to restage scenes from THE FUGITVE with him cleverly eluding the authorities at every turn.

Labeouf, who, of course, has to answer to a hard-assed editor (Stanley Tucci), theorizes that Redford is on the run, not just to escape the F.B.I. led by another hard-ass, Terrance Howard, but to somehow clear his name.

The tone is even more self-important and self-righteous than Redford’s last film, the pretentious LIONS FOR LAMBS. Here, instead of Andrew Garfield, Labeouf symbolizes the young generation who Redford can lecture to. The gist being that the children of the ‘60s took it to the streets to protest the government’s involvement in Vietnam, while you kids are more concerned with updating your Facebook profiles as Jenkins, a former radical now a college professor, puts it in a laughable attempt at a meaningful line.

While interviewing Brendan Gleeson as the cop that originally investigated the robbery, Labeouf conveniently comes across indie film darling Brit Marling as Gleeson’s adopted daughter. While flirting with her he figures out her connection to Redford, and while I won’t spoil what it is, I’ll tell you that it’s no exciting revelation.

But then nothing is in this star-studded dud that’s only really about Redford fighting to still be relevant. The man has made some excellent films, among them ORDINARY PEOPLE and QUIZ SHOW, but here he’s treading water while he shakes his head at younger generations for dropping the ball.

I’m not sure what he wants us to do. Go hold up a protest sign on the corner? Join whatever is today’s equivalent to the Weather Underground? What?

When his noble character re-unites with his old flame Julie Christie whose help he needs in a nicely-lit cabin and they discuss old times there is a semblance of dramatic weight, but the phoniness of the dialogue and the predictability of the situation bog it way down. That pretty much sums up every scene come to think of it.

Throughout the film, we see Redford’s porn-stached mugshot from the ‘70s (actually a re-purposed still from ELECTRIC HORSEMAN it looks like to me) as if to remind us that not only was he hot back then, he was a man of major conviction. But then, he always is in every movie he’s made.

Here, our Uncle Redford has made a disappointing film about how disappointed he is in us. Too bad his incredible cast and impeccable narrative skills (I will concede that it’s not boring), can’t elevate it to be anything more than that.

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The Upscale Thriller ARBITRAGE Is Right On The Money

ARBITRAGE (Dir. Nicholas Jarecki, 2012)

Not since “Bonfire of the Vanities” (the book not the awful movie) has witnessing the potential downfall of a financial bigwig been so entertaining.

In Jarecki’s also Manhattan-set “Armitrage,” Richard Gere is indeed what Tom Wolfe called “a master of the universe” in “Bonfire,” and he, like his spiritual descendant Sherman McCoy (a so miscast Tom Hanks in the movie version, which again is terrible) gets into a tragic automobile accident that could derail his wealthy standing.

Gere is great here as the sort of suave investment genius that graces the cover of Forbe’s, and is regularly profiled on MSNBC.

In an early scene, while suiting up, Gere asks his wife (Susan Sarnadon) how he looks. “Regal, wise, and a bit worried,” she responds. This is before the accident, when Gere’s only problem is that his company is millions in debt, and he’s having trouble closing the deal for its sale. Sure, that’s a mighty big problem, but throw in involuntary manslaughter, and you’ve got yourself a clusterfuck of fraud and murder.

After Gere falls asleep at the wheel of his car, and wrecks it killing his mistress (Laetitia Casta), he pulls a Teddy Kennedy and flees the scene. Gere doesn’t phone the police - no, he calls Nate Parker, as the young black son of his former chauffeur to come pick him up.

Soon on the tycoon’s trail is Tim Roth as a slouching scruffy detective, who knows Gere’s guilty.

Roth has a Columbo-ish interrogation style. Take his casual last question “what happened to your head?” as he’s leaving Gere’s office and notices a scab on the man’s forehead. Sure has a “oh, uh, one more thing…” ring to it to me.

As Gere’s daughter and business partner, Brit Marling (“Another Earth”) has a few choice scenes as she is as much on the trail of wrongdoings that Roth is. The emotional tension is palpable when Marling finds out the awful truth about her dad, same with Sarandon, although she acts less shocked. Sarandon appears to have been expecting Gere’s dynasty to crumble for ages.

In what could’ve been a thankless accomplice part, Parker puts in a convincingly stressed-out performance - almost a counterpoint to Gere’s much more expensive stress.

I was reminded not only of Wolfe’s “Bonfire,” but of Woody Allen’s CRIMES AND MISDEMEANORS. The guilty V.I.P. in that film (Martin Landau) suffered more over issues of morality in his dire predicament, yet both films share the bewilderment over what price the wealthy will pay to stay wealthy.

Compellingly plotted, and as sophisticated as the luxurious trappings it depicts, ARBITRAGE signals the beginning of awards buzz season.

Gere has undeniable star power whether you’re a fan of him or not, and here he more than earns an Oscar nomination. The same could be said for director/writer Nicholas Jarecki, whose first full length feature this is.

The ending, I’m sure, may leave some folks cold, but this upscale thriller is on the money and well worth your time.



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JEFF, WHO LIVES AT HOME: The Film Babble Blog Review

Now playing in Raleigh at the Colony Theater:



JEFF, WHO LIVES AT HOME (Dirs. Jay Duplass & Mark Duplass, 2011) 

This is a day in the life of 2 brothers: one’s a slacker, the other a jerk. Jason Segel, in the title role, is the slacker - a jobless 30-year-old pot-smoking lug whose life philosophy is based on the movie SIGNS. That’s right, M. Night Shyamalan’s SIGNS.



The jerk is a goateed Ed Helms as the older brother, a paint-store salesman whose marriage to Judy Greer (last seen in “The Descendants”) may be in trouble.



Susan Sarandon plays their widowed mother who gets Segel’s day going when she calls home from her cubicle in an unspecified office to ask him to get some wood glue.



Actually it’s a phone call Segel got earlier that really sets the day in motion - a wrong number asking for somebody named Kevin. “What if there is no wrong numbers?” Segel speculates, “What if it’s always the right number?”



So Segel leaves his Baton Rouge, Louisiana (the filmmakers' home town) basement dwelling to go get wood glue, but he gets caught up in a seemingly random series of events, most of which are triggered by the name Kevin coincidentally popping up at odd times. “There are no coincidences” I’m sure Segel’s Jeff would say.



While at a business meeting (or so he says) at Hooters, Helms happens to see Segel walking by. Sarandon had phoned Helms earlier asking him to help get his brother moving so, of course, Segel sees this as another sign. Their destinies take a turn when the brothers happen upon seeing Helm’s wife Greer out with another man (Steve Zissus).



They follow and spy on Greer and Zissus (Helms is either too scared or stupid to confront them), ending up at a hotel (after Segel gets diverted by another Kevin sign). This is where the film most successfully balances humor with heartfelt drama. We can see why Greer would cheat on the thickheaded Helms, and we feel Segel’s compassion for his brother’s predicament, as airheaded as it is.



The characters are better drawn and play off each other more believably than in the Duplass brother’s previous films (THE PUFFY CHAIR, BAGHEAD, CYRUS), and the film certainly feels sincere without any cynical snarkiness. Just like Jeff.



I was less annoyed by the brothers’ shaki-cam framing too.



A subplot involving Sarandon and co-worker Rae Dawn Chong trying to figure out who a secret admirer at work is gets a bit cutesy, but it doesn’t detract from the overall charm and likability of this simple story.



Segel’s Jeff loves the film SIGNS because “everything comes together in one perfect moment.”



The Duplass brothers haven’t pulled off perfection here, but this sure is a terrifically unpretentious attempt.



And it’s way better than SIGNS.

More later...