THE AMERICAN (2010)

* * * *
R for violence, sexual content and nudity, 105m, USA

D: Anton Corbijn (George Clooney, Irina Björklund, Johan Leysen, Paolo Bonacelli, Thekla Reuten)

This is a fantastic thriller in the spirit of Hitchcock and suspense films of the 1970's. George Clooney is Jack (notably without a surname), a lonely hitman hiding in Italy, waiting to carry out one last assignment before retirement. And everyone knows what a great retirement package the Mafia offers. This isn't the Mafia, but might as well be. In the beginning, Jack makes a casual, yet shocking decision that demonstrates his coldly pragmatic nature. And he's prepared to do it again, if with some regret. But there are no tears or railing against fate - he accepts the risks and deals with them. At one time, he had been at the top of his game, but time and weariness are taking their toll. He knows it's time to quit. After a disastrous incident in Sweden, Jack seeks out his boss/mentor, who advises him to stay low in a small Italian village and not to make any "new friends".

But this particular loner can't help himself. Despite his brusque manner, people sometimes seek him out, like the almost aggressively friendly Father Benedetto, who offers a companionship that's both comforting and unnerving. He appoints himself as Jack's conscience, even without knowing the details of his past. He also has a secret of his own, so he is not completely unsympathetic to a fellow human in conflict.

"You have done much sinning," he observes at one point.

"All men are sinners," Jack tells him, "Everything I've done I've had good cause to do."

"A man can be reached if he has God in his heart."

"I don't think God's very interested in me, Father," Jack replies.

"You cannot deny the existence of hell. You live in it. It is a place without love."

The two men respectfully disagree with one another, but there is a fragile bond between them as they share a meal and take walks together. Jack needs this connection, as well as the one he finds with Clara (Irina Björklund), a local woman he meets in a brothel, the only place he feels safe in meeting women. No demands, no questions.

This is not an action film so much as a character study with a sense of dread. But the tension is almost unbearable, with any sudden sound a "BOO!" moment. The stealthy, menacing way the camera follows our protagonist, it's like the viewer is an assassin as well, giving them a most uncomfortable point of view. What if he turns his head? Notice that I don't call Jack a hero - he's definitely too amoral to be heroic, but isn't evil in the sense that you'd expect. He doesn't seek out trouble or kill for pleasure. It's simply a job to him. One might suspect that he wouldn't be good at anything else, except tinkering in a garage. Not that he would spend all that time building cars. Maybe he'd build cool gadgets, like Q in the James Bond films.

For me, it was a very interesting look at a questionable profession. It's largely due to Clooney's no-frills performance that we see Jack for what he is. We do not need to see the path of bodies in his wake, or constant gore to know that he's very dangerous. We get a private tour of a hitman's existence and what it's like to constantly be on edge, trusting no one, let alone love. A gun in a woman's handbag - is it for protection or something more sinister?

Imagine even the most banal conversation -- it could be in code - or not. I thoroughly enjoyed the shorthand rat-a-tat rhythm of the dialogue between Jack and a beautiful female assassin (Thekla Reuten) as they negotiate terms for a customized weapon that is needed for a special job. They don't waste words. James Bond would have been all over this woman like blanket. How predictable. Jack treats her as a colleague -- polite, professional, and someone to respect as a potential enemy.

We get the feeling of Jack as an outsider - a not-completely detached observer - watching the human parade pass him by and know with some regret that he can never join them, or even visit for a while. Is redemption possible for him? Yes, but not quite in the way he expects.

AU REVOIR, LES ENFANTES (1987)

* * * *

French ("Goodbye, Children") PG-13 for mature themes

C-104m. France, West Germany

D: Louis Malle. Gaspard Manesse, Raphael Fejtö, Philippe Morier-Genoud

Twelve-year-old Julien Quentin, a pampered mama's boy who has bed-wetting issues, meets and wonders about the new student - Jean Bonnet, a thoughtful, quiet young man with a deadly secret. A friendship develops between two boys that is remembered vividly from long ago by just one of them. It is 1944, and Jean (Raphael Fejtö) is just one of the three new students who are given sanctuary by Père Jean (Philippe Morier-Genoud), the headmaster of friar-run Catholic boarding school for boys. Julien (Gaspard Manesse) eventually discovers Jean's true identity and he means to keep it to protect his friend. Not even their academic rivalry, nor a shared crush on the school piano teacher (Irène Jacob) could make Julien betray his friend. What happens is much worse because there is no guilty party. Just a conscience that is walled in and crushed by an innocent impulse.

Julien and his sullen older brother François (Stanislas Carré de Malberg) are sent back to boarding school after Christmas break. Neither is eager to return, and no wonder. The rooms are dreary and crowded, especially the one-room dormitory that houses about thirty beds in plot-like rows. Everyday is freezing, and their uniforms consist of thin shirts and short pants. There is barely enough room for these rowdy young boys to run around - just a small cement enclosure - no grass to roll around in. It resembles a prison yard. All of the boys naturally find ways to cope by calling the monks "monkeys", playing pranks on each other, and knocking each other to the cement while balanced on stilts. Yet despite the discomforts of living in overcrowded conditions, there are moments of pure joy, such as an impromptu jam session between Julien and Jean on the piano.

Because good food is rare, these young boys endure hunger, and their jam, one of the few treats they do receive from home, is promptly confiscated because they are expected to share it. The lesson that the friars were teaching is understandable given the conditions, but is charity truly an act of generosity if someone in authority gives away your food without permission? It encourages sneakiness -- hide your booty from adult eyes -- instead of adapting the pride of sharing with your hungry peers. The frequently enforced fasting, one of the drawbacks of Catholicism, doesn't help - it simply makes them more determined to protect their food, let alone share it. No wonder the enterprising few are tempted to sell their goods to the black market, thanks to a school employee. However, it is this greed that proves to be their downfall.

We discover with Julien that Jean's last name is really Kippelstein and he does his best to blend in with the other boys. Problems arise when a trip to the public bath house has a sign that reads, No Jews Allowed. This is Nazi-occupied France, after all. For Jean, ordinary acts such as eating, bathing, and praying become small acts of rebellion to remember and honour his true identity. As the shadow of the Third Reich looms overhead, there is disquiet in the air, but life goes on as usual. Germans aren't necessarily the villains here. They are just working men assigned to do terrible deeds. Although there are no ominous trains headed to Auschwitz or frightened crowds of people being pushed onboard, the menace is ever-present, even on an uneventful school day. With groups of patrollers marching everywhere, coming and going and arresting as they please, it is a hair-raising prospect if Jean were ever to get into their line of vision.

Louis Malle wrote, produced and directed this film, loosely based on an actual incident in his childhood in a boarding school when he was eleven. It is no wonder that the story of Julien and Jean propels so naturally and inevitably to its inescapable conclusion. The film is as haunting as the memory of one morning in January 1944 must have been for Malle for all these years. You never know who is listening, let alone who can be trusted. It was a life of quiet desperation. One mistake could doom many.

Au Revoir, Les Enfantes is one of those stories that stayed with me. The best and worst of human nature, bravery in the face of certain doom, and hope is exercised, even in those so young. This attitude was expressed by Anne Frank, who died at Bergen-Belsen at sixteen: "Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart." Like Steven Spielberg's Schindler's List (1993), Au Revoir, Les Enfants is shown to high school students so the masses can comprehend how good people cope with such inhuman and unanswerable crimes. If Julien and Jean had been in such a lofty position today, they no doubt would have wept and walked each other home afterwards.

Also recommended: Spielzeugland (Toyland) (2007), which won the Academy Award for Best Live Short Film in 2009.

ALWAYS (1989)

* * 1/2

PG, C-122m, USA

D: Steven Spielberg; Richard Dreyfuss, Holly Hunter, John Goodman, Brad Johnson, Audrey Hepburn, Marg Helgenberger

Tagline: They couldn't hear him. They couldn't see him. But he was there when they needed him... Even after he was gone.

Steven Spielberg's modern remake of 1942's A Guy Named Joe doesn't really work as a romance in my opinion, but has very appealing performances. Pete (Richard Dreyfuss), a firefighting pilot who dies in a freak accident, saves the life of his best friend Al (John Goodman). His ghost has trouble letting his fiancee (Holly Hunter) move on with her life.

It's not a great movie, but definitely fits the criteria for "good corn". It's sweet, and you can't help liking these characters. Nobody is a true villain, not even Pete. He is understandably upset at being prematurely ripped away from his beloved Dorinda, let alone watching another man (especially one as handsome as bland Ted Baker (Brad Johnson) shyly approach her, even bypassing the opportunity to date the lovely Rachel (a woefully underused Marg Helgenberger).

But why can't Pete just go to the afterlife and forget about her? It seems cruel of the angel Hap (Audrey Hepburn in her final role) to force him to guide his replacement, not only in flying, but romancing his own fiancee. But he has to learn to let Dorinda go and to show his love by letting her move on.

In this humble critic's opinion, Little Miss Firecracker herself is just too much woman for a blank slate like Ted. Her reaction to this handsome stranger's attention is funny but true: "I just can't be with someone who looks like I won him in a raffle." When Ted stops being so stiff and does John Wayne impressions, she softens toward him. He's the perfect boyfriend - handsome, polite, attentive, and sincere. But it's when he starts reminding her of Pete in little ways (John Wayne impressions, donkey laugh, and a talent for aviation) and performs an act of heroism that she becomes intrigued.

All the leads are engaging, and I'm a sucker for movies about ghosts in love (The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, Ghost, Blythe Spirit). I usually can't stand Richard Dreyfuss's characters - as Dorinda observes, he laughs like a donkey. But he's very good here, though I liked him best in American Graffiti, Jaws, and Mr. Holland's Opus.

The dialogue is very 40s-speak; they really should have set this in the 1940s, like the original. I mean really: A 'contemporary' 80s gal named "Dorinda Durston"? Very corny but there are moments of sweetness, like tomboyish Dorinda's reaction to Pete's birthday present: a beautiful white evening gown, exclaiming, "Girl clothes!" and "It's not the dress... it's the way you see me.")

Also endearing is the way "alive" Pete adoringly shoos Dorinda out onto the dance floor to dance with their pilot buddies, cheerfully handing out towels for their grimy mitts (Dorinda: "Nobody dances with this dress until they wash their hands."). "Oh, boooysss... That's a-right! You a-wanna dance with my girl... you a-gotta wipe your hands... whoa! That's not a towel!"

The harrowing forest fires and flying stunts are something to see. If you don't care for the drippy romance, see it for the action scenes. I really respect firefighters, and this just solidifies it. They are true heroes.

Though it could have been edited to a shorter length as well as a host of other things I could think of, it's still worth catching on a rainy afternoon.

Holly Hunter and John Goodman work well in supporting roles, and even have chemistry with each other. To be honest, I would have been much more interested in Pete having to watch his best friend Al fall for Dorinda, and the complications that would have ensued. Goodman is a wonderful actor, and never gets to be the leading man in a serious romance. He's a big guy, but always plays even his comic roles with dignity - unlike most character actors of his girth, he isn't just the leading man's comic foil, but beneath the jovial exterior peeks something a little more thoughtful, even dark. Here he's very charismatic and fun, and has way more personality than the Ted Baker character. He doesn't get to do much, but steals every scene he's in. I could totally see the friendship between him and Dorinda grow into something else, and the guilt feelings that would plague both. Pete would be even more miserable, knowing that they never hooked up while he was alive, but still resenting them for going on as if he no longer mattered. But that's another movie.

This is an interesting take on the afterlife. It's not The Lovely Bones, but I enjoyed following the characters on their journeys - Dorinda's to accepting a different kind of happiness from the one she expected and Pete's to unearthing a nobility he never knew he had.

THE ARISTOCATS (1970)

* * 1/2

General. 78m, USA

D: Wolfgang Reitherman. Phil Harris, Eva Gabor, Sterling Holloway, Scatman Crothers, Liz English, Dean Clark, Gary Dubin, Paul Winchell, Monica Evans, Carole Shelley, Nancy Culp, Hermione Baddeley, Pat Buttram, George Lindsey.

Tagline: DIG THESE CATS...and all that JAZZ!

The Aristocats is a sentimental favourite of mine. I remember loving it and begging to see it over and over when I was four. Those were the days when Disney only released its animated classics once every seven years. There were no videos or DVDs to look forward to a couple of months later. You had to see the movie at the theatre at the time of release, and if you missed it, you didn't see it again until you hit puberty. And you thought waiting for Christmas morning was bad enough.

The story opens in 1910 Paris, with Maurice Chevalier warbling the title song; then we see an elegantly coiffed old woman ride in a horse-drawn carriage with her family of pampered cats. Chevalier's singing voice is horribly, nasally French – and with a name like mine, I can say that with impunity - he was good in Gaslight, but ever since seeing his leering lothario purring, "Thank Heaven for Little Girls" in 1958's Gigi, he gives me the willies.

Madame Bonfamille, a retired actress/opera singer (which, in those days wasn't far removed from being considered a prostitute), lives a comfortable life of luxury in a big townhouse with Duchess and her three rambunctious kittens. Mother Duchess (Eva Gabor), a beautiful white lady cat, is as refined and elegant as her mistress. The Aristokits are cute, squabbling siblings, all wearing different coloured bows and ribbons to show how wuvved they are. Ginger kit Toulouse is the artistic, pugnacious one, grey kitten Berlioz bangs a mean keyboard, and prissy little Marie, who's a fluffy white miniature version of her mother, is a precocious romantic whom we later discover has the beginnings of an Electra complex. True to the way girl characters were portrayed in the days before Kim Possible, she often gets in the way and needs to be saved from danger.

Madame invites Georges Harcourt, an elderly lawyer (it's hinted that he may also be an old beau) to her home to write her will. How she got this old and rich without even thinking about wills until now will remain a mystery. When the lawyer arrives, Edgar the butler admits him inside the mansion and has to assist the old boy up a 99-stepped staircase when he pooh-poohs using the elevator instead. I wondered, why not install a motorized chair alongside the wall, like Mrs. Deagle? Finally, he makes it to her parlour, and Edgar eavesdrops as Madame instructs Georges to put her cats in the will, then stipulates that dear, faithful Edgar shall inherit her fortune only after the kitties die.

Edgar, who was a good sport before, is naturally pissed off. With his awesome math powers, he realizes that with all those nine lives times four, that he'll never get his mitts on the money before kicking the bucket himself. So he decides to dope the cats' milk (and Roquefort, their mouse buddy by accident) and take them for a little ride in the countryside to 'disappear'.

Not that I blame him for not wanting to wait until the cats shop ‘til they drop, spending millions of francs, but wouldn't it have been smarter to kill Madame and the cats all at the same time and then dump the bodies into the Seine River? Or how about disguising the cats by dipping them in soot, like in 101 Dalmations? But that's just me and my evil brain.

In his attempts to help poor ol' Edgar, my equally evil brother suggested, "Why not wait until Madame dies and the kittens are in his care! Wait a few weeks and then start adding drainer fluid in the cat's milk. Poison them gradually so it looks like they're sick. The best part is he'd be home alone doing this." Upon further discussion, he also suggested dropping each cat in different parts of the country so they don’t get recognized as a ‘group’ of missing felines.

Edgar couldn't get into our gang of criminal masterminds.

Later that night, the cats wake up near a river in a storm, and are terrified and baffled as to how they got there, even though Toulouse keeps saying, "I bet it was old Edgar." Meanwhile, back at the mansion (or as I like to call it, The Cat Cave), Roquefort miraculously wakes from his drugged slumber and dons his cute li’l little Sherlock Holmes outfit and investigates the case of the missing cats, but gets nowhere. It even makes the headlines of the local papers, which is strange. Um, slow news day? Also, if his tiny body mass absorbed the same dosage as the cats, how come it didn’t kill him outright? Now, there’s a case for this Mouse Detective. It could be like D.O.A., that old 1949 noir thriller where Edmond O’Brien is poisoned and has only a few hours to find out who murdered him before he croaks. Alas, ol' Diz never took risks.

Jungle Book alumnae Phil Harris lends his easygoing voice to the O'Malley, a roguish but charismatic alley cat who gets the hots for Duchess and gallantly agrees to help her get home, and reluctantly lets the kids tag along. Eventually, he develops a paternal affection for the little cock-blockers. Hmmm… reddish Toulouse looks an awful lot like him. In fact, none of her kids resemble each other in either fur or eye colour. Maybe Duchess was an "actress" too.

Along the way, they meet a psychotic milkman, and in a scene similar to Stand by Me, barely escape getting mowed down by a train. Marie keeps falling into harm's way and constantly needs to be rescued by O'Malley, who in turn needs to be rescued from Adelaide and Abigail Gabble, a pair of giggly geese on a walking tour of France (Monica Evans and Carole Shelley, doing a slight variation of their shtick from their roles in 1967's Robin Hood). Finally, O'Malley finds a Best Western motel or his 'pad' - don't you just dig that beatnik jive in 1910 France? Then, in the film's most enjoyable sequence, introduces the family to Scat Cat (Scatman Crothers, who voiced King Louie in The Jungle Book in 1967) and his band of jammin’ alley cats. The scene looks like it was shot with coloured cellophane and acid, but it's way more exciting than the catnapping subplot. And I love the way the Scat Cats "crashed" the party.

The music is a mixed bag of French café musack and weird “Disney rock” - that strangely generic "mod" sound that hopelessly square producers invented - sort of Lawrence Welk with sped-up wow-wow-wow guitars, drums, and a pulse. Eg: You may have heard Hayley Mills "rocking out" in “Let’s Get Together” in The Parent Trap. Yes, Disney was still trying to be ‘hip’ with the 1960's "swingers" set, even though the story was set in 1910. He did it again in Robin Hood and Jungle Book. Like, groovy, Daddy-O!

There are a couple of sequences where Edgar encounters two country dogs named incongruously dubbed Napoleon (Pat Buttram) and Lafayette (George Lindsey). There's a point to these scenes, but they simply drag on too long for attention spans shorter than the lifespan of fruit fly - namely mine. Though episodic, and with mild racial sterotypes which you might have to explain to the kiddiwinks, The Aristocats is still lively enough to keep the kids' attention without insulting their intelligence (or yours), and a lot of fun, especially when the cats jam in O'Malley's 'pad' with "Everybody Wants to be a Cat". Young children will enjoy it, and it's a worthy addition to their DVD library. And those who grew up treasuring Disney classics will enjoy it too.

The whimsical artwork is charming, and has more of a watercolour medium than the richer tones of other films. The characters are appealing and memorable. The voice actors were mostly veterans from past Disney features, and they all do a terrific job, especially Phil Harris as O'Malley, who seems to channel his "Baloo" persona and infuse it with a pick-up artist on the make who just happens to be a romantic and is genuinely surprised to discover that he's actually good with kids. Eva Gabor (who would voice Miss Bianca in the The Rescuers movies years later), is fine as Duchess, though the character herself is more pretty than interesting. The kittens all have different personalities, although Marie undoubtedly stands out the most. Just check out all the "Marie" merchandise at any Disney store. I'm surprised it's not called "Marie's Place" instead.

Hmmm... sounds like a whorehouse in the Old West, doesn't it?