The Secret Life of Bees (2 1/2 stars)
Directed by Gina Prince-Bythewood. Written by Gina Prince-Bythewood, based on the novel by Sue Monk Kidd. With Dakota Fanning, Queen Latifah, Jennifer Hudson, Alicia Keys, Sophie Okonedo, and Paul Bettany. (PG-13)
One of the first things we learn about Lily Owens is that when she was four years old, she shot her mother dead. Unfortunately, that event is probably the most interesting one in The Secret Life of Bees, and it comes and goes while latecomers are still drifting into the theater.
When we catch up with Lily (Dakota Fanning) again, she's a 14-year-old girl who dreams of two things—her mom, and becoming a writer—but is trapped by life with her abusive, bitter father T. Ray (Paul Bettany), who obviously hasn't quite worked out how to care for a girl who shot her mother. What little familial love wafts Lily's way comes from Rosaleen (Jennifer Hudson), her nanny and confidante.
Because the film is set in the '60s, it's a sure thing that the civil rights movement will play a part here, and it shows up early in a shockingly brutal—and very effective—scene where Rosaleen, on her way to register to vote, runs afoul of some local bigots. When Lily learns that her friend's life is in jeopardy, she springs her from the hospital and the two hit the road, leaving T. Ray behind.
Eventually the pair find shelter with the Boatwrights, a tight-knit clan of African-American women who have forged a life on their own terms in hostile territory. Matriarch August (Queen Latifah) runs a thriving honey business, prickly June (Alicia Keys) is a cellist and music teacher, and the emotional May runs the household. Theirs is a world run by women, though men make occasional appearances in the form of June's persistent suitor Neil, and Zach, whose burgeoning romance with Lily causes trouble in the segregated town. As time goes on, we realize it's not exactly an accident that the fugitives have landed at the Boatwright home; Lily is following her own compass, trying to unravel the mystery of her own life before T. Ray tracks her down.
The Secret Life of Bees is at its best when it doesn't try so hard to be more meaningful than it is—which isn't often enough. As a sun-flecked pastoral with an interesting story the film does well, but it's undermined by heavy-handed writing that relies on bald metaphors and syrupy, sentimental bromides that seem plucked from Mother's Day cards—one wishes such a strong female cast was given more to work with. There are moments—mostly involving the civil rights subplots and a great performance from Paul Bettany—that struggle to rise above it all, but in the end, they all get stuck in the honey.
*
Appaloosa (3 1/2 stars)
Directed by Ed Harris. Written by Robert Knott and Ed Harris, based on the novel by Robert B. Parker. With Ed Harris, Viggo Mortensen, Jeremy Irons, Ren?e Zellweger, and Timothy Spall. (R)
One of the pleasures of cinema is the sheer size of a movie screen, and the intimacy it affords us—every detail can be laid bare on a 50-foot screen in a way unimaginable for, say, a stage play. It leads to a different kind of storytelling, one small part of which is the close-up. Ed Harris' face—creased, lined, filled with the dust of a thousand creek beds—was made for the close-up.
In Appaloosa, Harris stars as Virgil Cole, a gun for hire on the side of the good who travels the open country of late 19th-century America with his partner Everett Hitch (Viggo Mortensen). Hitch, a laconic thinking man who is hoping to "expand his soul," advises Cole on his vocabulary while they go about the "peace-keepin' business" in the largely lawless towns that dot the New Mexico Territory.
They're called to Appaloosa by the town aldermen to deal with Randall Bragg (a wonderfully repugnant Jeremy Irons), a politically connected rancher whose disregard for law has turned the town into a playground for his men. Perhaps more dangerous is Allie French (Ren?e Zellweger), whose arrival in town upends the long relationship of Cole and Hitch, awakening in Cole a domestic side that threatens to drive a wedge between the two men.
Appaloosa is a quiet Western, the type where much of the action consists of stoic men leaning in doorways or tilting their chairs back on a porch as the camera slowly pans over them, taking in their unwavering, unblinking gaze. There's more riding and talking than gunplay, and when the gunplay comes it's quick and dirty, rarely lasting more than a shot. After what in most Westerns would be the climactic battle—here it takes all of 10 seconds—Hitch remarks, "That was quick." Cole, lying on the ground with a bullet in him, dryly notes, "Everybody could shoot."
It's a style well suited to both Harris and Mortensen, actors whose carriage hints at a depth and intelligence that doesn't require much explication. Instead of the over-the-top (if enjoyably so) posturing of an old Clint Eastwood spaghetti Western, the complexities of these heroes are communicated in small ways—Cole's constant concern for finding just the right word, or the way Hitch carries his eight-gauge, its barrel broken over his arm as elegantly as a handkerchief. Irons, too, is well cast; his naturally aristocratic bearing is here transferred to a sort of Boston brahmin figure—the elite of old America—who sees the ranch as manor, and his hands as his serfs.
Less successful is Zellweger, whose stardom I've never truly understood. Her face is a strangely impassive mix of pinch and bloat—like she's been stung by a thousand bees—and it's often difficult to discern what emotion she's trying to convey. Context tells you that she's supposed to be angry or contrite or happy, but too often she seems to offer the same response to any number of situations, making her character seem like an automaton. It's especially disappointing here, because the film makes a point of showing how difficult frontier life could be for an unattached woman; indeed, the opportunistic Allie is in many ways the film's richest role, but one that never comes to life.
Still, Appaloosa succeeds on many levels, most notably in its exploration of male friendship in a time when that relationship may have been the most important one in a man's life.
*
Northampton Independent Film Festival
Various directors.
This weekend sees the 14th annual Northampton Independent Film Festival swing into town, bringing with it a slate of films that, due to the sometimes arcane economics of the film world, would otherwise be hard-pressed to find a home on the area's big screens—such as Kara Nasdor-Jones' one-minute adaptation of Eric Carle's The Very Busy Spider, or S. Lacey Johnston's hour-long look at the 30-year history of the Northampton-based Mary Vazquez Women's Softball League.
Part of what makes it all work is smart programming—pairing shorts with longer feature films (see below)—and this year NIFF has rejiggered their schedule to let filmgoers make the most of the festival. Where in the past screenings were spread over two weekends at a wide variety of locations, the 2008 fest will use only the Academy of Music and Pleasant Street Theater, and the schedule has been compressed to a single three-day weekend to make planning easier for film lovers. Below are some of the highlights.
The New World is a French film that gives NIFF '08 its theme. Lucie and Marion are the heart of this story about a lesbian couple hoping for a child—a troublesome notion in France, where they cannot legally adopt, nor use artificial insemination. Seemingly stuck, they find themselves considering more "traditional" forms of conception when Hugo offers his services, leaving them with a decision that will surely change their relationship.
Norman Porter had just been named Chicago's "Poet of the Month" when he was arrested—again. It turns out that Porter, who had lived in Chicago for 20 years under the pseudonym J.J. Jameson, was a convicted double murderer who had escaped from a Massachusetts prison after serving 25 years. To tell the story of his double life, Killer Poet mixes footage from his circle of friends in Chicago with the raw emotional testimony of his victims' families and a history of the investigation that led to his arrest.
For music fans, NIFF offers two winning films. Delta Rising is a look at the lives of blues musicians in Clarksdale, Mississippi. The filmmakers hope to give viewers a wider sense of just how important the blues are, not only to those who play and sing them, but as an art form at the heart of our American story, one that influenced almost everything that came after it. Appearing in the film to back up that thesis are Willie Nelson, James Montgomery, Chris Cotton and more.
No Johnny Cash collection is complete without his raw, beautiful recordings done live at Folsom Prison. The very idea of it seems unimaginable in today's world, but at the time many of the inmates weren't so far removed from Cash's own life, had he taken a different path, and The Man in Black was in fact a strong advocate of prison reform. Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison examines the career-defining concert of the late legend.
Also this week: With all the campaign rhetoric about "energy independence," Blood and Oil comes along at just the right time—before we step into the voting booth next month. Based on the work of Nation magazine defense correspondent (and Hampshire College professor) Michael Klare, the film takes a cold, hard look at our history of military engagement in the Middle East and concludes that for over half a century our foreign policy and military stances have been almost entirely based on our energy needs. Unless we make a radical change, suggests Klare, we are doomed to repeat that history."
Jack Brown can be reached at cinemadope@gmail.com.
