(My) Best of 09: Supporting Actor.

5. Matthew Newton in "Three Blind Mice" (read my review)

One would think an actor/director who directs himself would always get the lead role but Matthew Newton proved us wrong in "Three Blind Mice".
He plays one of three sailors on leave in Sydney and as the crass, loud one of the group he seems at first to serve only a comedic purpose.
His baby face and relentless malice make him both charming and scary (think Richard Widmark) but it doesn't take long before we are forced to observe him under a completely different light without his character ever going through a life changing situation as the other two do.
Newton's performance is a fascinating study of concealment and facades as a way of life.


4. Peter Capaldi in "In the Loop" (read my review)

There are actors who react and others that act and put everything in motion. In this film Peter Capaldi is a combination of both.
Almost Tati-esque in his effortlessly precise comedic timing, he plays Government Director of Communications, Malcolm Tucker who puts everyone to shame with his efficiency and cursing.
He finds beauty in the profane and while looking terrifying as a boss provides us with delicious sadistic pleasure in his treatment of others.
He might also just be the most quotable character of the year.


3. Christoph Waltz in "Inglourious Basterds" (read my review)

In a movie filled with dozens of great parts and splendid actors, Waltz practically walks away with the show as SS Colonel Hans Landa.
From his first scene where he interrogates a French farmer (played by Denis Menochet) he makes us laugh and gives us goosebumps.
As the movie advances he often borders on caricature but pulls back just in time to creep under our skin and become a vessel of pure nightmare. The thing with him is that you can never really hate him completely because Waltz makes Landa so real that for a second or two we even understand that his evil is rooted in obligation and even loyalty.


2. Paul Schneider in "Bright Star" (read my review)

As Charles Armitage Brown, best friend of doomed poet John Keats (Ben Whishaw), Paul Schneider gives a performance so subtle that it might take you more than one viewing of the film to see the effect he has on everyone.
He's at his best in scenes with Fanny Brawne (Abbie Cornish) who he tortures childishly out of unsaid love. When he finally puts his feelings on paper and becomes the victim of a quiet love triangle we are too swept away by Fanny and John to even remember his pain but he lingers in the background to make the beauty of the romance ache more because of those who can't have it.
His accent might not be perfect but Schneider brings Armitage a sense of bruised pride, sorrow and brutish tenderness (see when he delivers the news of Keats' death) that make us appreciate the delicacy of the movie even more.


1. Michael Fassbender in "Fish Tank" (read my review)

From the second Connor (Fassbender) walks into Mia's (Katie Jarvis) kitchen we know he's just no good.
"You dance like a black" he tells her, holding up his loose pants while stretching his tiger like body as he makes coffee. He later clarifies he meant it as a compliment. For the fifteen year old girl who barely gets attention from anyone else, it's delightful to see that her mother (Kierston Wareing) finally brought home a man that might act as a father figure.
He takes them out, listens to fancy music (for her at least) and takes an interest in her dancing career. But there's something about the way he looks at her, the proximity with which he shows her things and the kindness he gives her that make us mistrust him.
Connor is not a villain in the "movie" sense of the word, the nature of his acts doesn't make him evil and he's capable of making us wonder how much did we help him succeed in his actions.
Fassbender gives him an almost predatory quality as he seduces us before seducing Mia. That he does so without recurring to cheap techniques is surprising but that he sees Connor and recognizes him first as a human being is nothing short of courageous. Few working actors push the limits of right and wrong like Fassbender.

Away We Go ***

Director: Sam Mendes
Cast: John Krasinski, Maya Rudolph
Catherine O'Hara, Jeff Daniels, Allison Janney, Jim Gaffigan
Carmen Ejogo, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Josh Hamilton
Chris Messina, Melanie Lynskey, Paul Schneider

Leaving behind his sterile formalism and working in a very relaxed style, Sam Mendes directs his first movie that feels refreshingly un-directed.
For someone that has specialized in the deconstruction of characters surrounded by pristine art direction and/or obvious camera moves, this tale of two people looking for a home, comes as a delightful surprise.
Burt (Krasinski) and Verona (Rudolph) are a couple in their mid-thirties who are expecting their first child. They live in a cottage in the middle of nowhere where they indulge in practices they have carried on from their college days.
But this won't do for their baby. With that in mind they set on a journey across North America to find the perfect place to settle.
First they go to Burt's parents (played splendidly by O'Hara and Daniels) who reveal they are moving to Antwerp and are just starting to live the lives people in their twenties desire.
Then it's off to Phoenix where they are greeted by Verona's former boss Lily (Janney) and her husband (Gaffigan). Lily calls herself a nutcase and insists that her little daughter is a dyke while her husband listens tolerantly.
After their awkward meeting they take a detour to see Verona's little sister (Ejogo) in Tucson with whom the film takes a turn for the purely bittersweet as the sisters remember their deceased parents.
After this they go to Madison to see Burt's childhood friend Ellen (a loopier, and oddly sexier, than ever Gyllenhaal), a college professor, who with her husband Rod (Hamilton), has taken to New Age-y parental practices that include them having sex in front of the kids.
They run away from this all the way to Montreal where they encounter college friends Tom (Messina) and Munch (Lynksey) who seem to have the perfect married life, but actually have deep pain.
Last, but not least, they go to Miami to see Burt's brother Courtney (Schneider, great as usual) whose wife recently abandoned him, leaving him alone to raise his young daughter (Isabelle Moon Alexander).
After life shows them all the possible people they can become, conveniently arranged in cinematic moral hierarchy, they have to decide where to move and who they most want to resemble.
As if they'd forgotten to decide the destination of their journey before leaving, they might always end up finding themselves where they began.
Luckily for such an aimless road trip, Krasinski and Rudolph keep the movie grounded and fascinating at every moment.
Even if the supporting characters are comprised of archetypes, weirdos and plain indie quirky clichés, they make Burt and Verona real people.
More than that, they make them people who are genuinely in love with each other ("I will love you even if I can't find your vagina" says Burt in a way that sounds breathtaking), for whom the problems of finding "the one" are done and over with.
When most movies settle for making the discovery of love the ultimate goal of life, this movie reminds us there's more than that and that life is a process.
"We're not fuck ups" they say at the beginning of the movie and they spend the rest of it showing us people who might as well be.
This comparison isn't condescending because truth is anyone watching the movie will try to empathize with them and see that after all they are not that bad.
In a lovely scene Burt proposes to Verona for the umpteenth time (she doesn't think marriage is necessary). She rejects him once more, but to ease his fear she ends up making promises from a list Burt comes up with spontaneously.
Mendes' delicate direction here isn't intrusive, but we know we are witnessing a making of vows more significant than anything we'd see at a wedding.
This is the film's best thing, not the big scenes with lots of characters, but the small intimate moments when we see Burt and Verona cuddle and lie quietly next to each other.
When they have to travel by train, they lie awake in their bunk beds, Ellen Kuras' spare cinematography suggests a void, and before long Burt has moved down to be with his girl.
Musicalized with Alexi Murdoch's lovely songs and with art direction that feels lived in more than anything, "Away We Go" is the kind of movie that indie filmmakers would die to produce, but has none of the pretentious resolutions we find in them more and more.
Perhaps a strike of good luck, or mere exhaustion (as the film was shot during a break Mendes took from "Revolutionary Road") we might leave not knowing if Burt and Verona found what they seeked.
But Mendes has finally achieved maturity.

Bright Star ***1/2

Director: Jane Campion
Cast: Abbie Cornish, Ben Whishaw
Paul Schneider, Kerry Fox, Edie Martin, Thomas Sangster

While literature has always been an essential inspiration for cinema, its influence has mostly been limited to prose; for, how do you make a film about poetry?
Jane Campion solves the problem in "Bright Star", her ethereal depiction of the short lived romance between English poet John Keats (Whishaw) and Fanny Brawne (Cornish).
When the film begins, it's 1818 and Keats is living in Hampstead under the wing of his best friend Charles Armitage Brown (Schneider).
He has just published his first book of poetry which hasn't brought any money and has to look after his dying brother. In Hampstead he first meets Fanny, a strong willed young woman devoted to fashion. She lives with her mother (Fox) and siblings (Sangster and Martin).
At first Fanny is indifferent to Keats, but after discovering his sensitive nature she falls in love with him and they begin a secret affair that would last until his premature death at the age of 25 and remain unconsummated.
Campion treats the romance in a unique way, abstaining from stereotypical displays of affection or obviousness. Instead of recurring to corny dialogues she puts her ideas at the service of images and as seen through the lens of cinematographer Craig Fraser they become otherworldly.
Therefore "Bright Star" features scenes that bristle with aching beauty; a scene where Fanny fills her room with butterflies is gloriously fascinating instead of bizarre, while a simple moment where she lies in bed while her room's drapes are stirred by the wind achieves a kind of simple beauty that's both erotic and breathtaking.
During the film one of the characters says that poetry is about the senses-as opposed to intellect-and in such way Campion's ensemble brings raw emotions to their respective characters.
Whishaw's Keats is terribly moving and bittersweet. His tousled hair, sweet voice and meek eyes evoke the yearning of someone who knows he's not meant to last long in the mortal world. You believe someone like Whishaw could come up with some of the most beloved poems in English literature and as a romantic lead he may not be Laurence Olivier, but nobody watching the film will avoid feeling envious of the kisses he gives Fanny.
When he tells her "we've created a world of our own, attached to this world, but of our own invention" it's impossible not to sigh.
Cornish's Fanny is glorious, she isn't the typical Jane Campion female character and while the director tries to give Fanny some of the feminist qualities she has imprinted in her most famous creations, first and foremost Abbie Cornish makes Fanny someone who simply is.
A dedicated seamstress who seeks to shock society with her sartorial innovations, Cornish imprints in her qualities that surpass mere shock value, the way she wears her gowns and hats is her own rebellion.
Her interaction with Armitage (Schneider is brilliant!), with whom she has a love/hate relationship, is delicious. They bicker and insult each other and surprisingly nobody asks Fanny to tone down. Could this be a slip on the director's part or yet another example of how Fanny went against social paradigms?
With that said it's also essential to note how Cornish doesn't make Brawne a modern figure by way of anachronism. Fanny is still a nineteenth century girl trying to cope with change and her place in a society that didn't understand her or her love.
Cornish looks radiant in scenes with Whishaw and even if she often goes for the subtle, silently sarcastic side, when she has an eventual outpour of emotion she will break your heart.
With Fanny, Campion introduces the intellectual theme at the center of "Bright Star" which is nothing else than creating poetry through images and a story.
Fanny herself admits that poetry is a "strain to workout" and asks John to help her understand. But what of those who don't give a damn about poetry or understanding it?
"Bright Star" works exactly like a poem. Those who aren't interested will find it cryptic, uninteresting and impossible to understand. They might be dazzled by the imagery but will be left unmoved.
Those into poetry will relish in the way Campion juxtaposes imagery, music and dialogue. They will not need prosaic methods to evoke feeling.
Whichever side you find yourself on, the way you experience "Bright Star" will be completely unique and unforgettable.

Lars and the Real Girl ***

Director: Craig Gillespie
Cast: Ryan Gosling, Emily Mortimer,
Paul Schneider, Patricia Clarkson, Kelli Garner, Nancy Beatty

"You are who you love. Not what loves you."
Charlie Kaufman

Lars Lindstrom (Gosling) is a 27 year old who lives in the garage of the house he shared with his recently deceased father. The main house is inhabited by his brother Gus (Schneider) and his wife Karin (Mortimer) who worry about Lars' constant loneliness.
One day Lars knocks at their door to introduce them to his girlfriend Bianca, a human size sex doll he purchased after a guy from work showed him the website.
Not knowing how to react to this, Gus and Karin seek help from Dagmar (Clarkson), the town's psychologist who tells them to let Lars exorcise whatever demons he has and play along with his delusion.
Before long they have also seeked help from all the townspeople, who are so fond of Lars that they follow along and treat Bianca like a living human being.
And then before our very eyes, a movie about a sex toy turns into a beautiful romance about how being different has nothing to do with right or wrong.
To avoid making a story that would fall into Farrelly brothers territory, the filmmakers and cast tap into a state of utter sincerity that make everything plausible.
Gosling's performance is a thing of pure beauty, he gives Lars a soft voice, a heartbreaking smile and a blink now and then, which seem to give him confidence that he isn't dreaming.
Lars is a man who has suffered much and is so delicate that human touch causes pain, which is why Bianca, who he can manipulate at his will, becomes the perfect companion. With any other actor you would've doubted Lars' real intentions and expect some sort of betrayal after you trusted in him, but with Gosling you find yourself within the character.
Mortimer is particularly moving as she evolves from a nosey young woman into someone who has found intense love for others within her impending motherhood.
Schneider makes his best to try and play the skeptical, proud older brother, but he can never hide the pain and guilt that make him feel responsible for his little brother.
And while everyone in the ensemble is terrific, Beatty as the wise and brutally honest Mrs. Gruner steals every scene she's in.
It is she who reminds the church elders of their flaws in order to let them accept Lars for who he is.
Gillespie's ethereal direction avoids falling into extreme indie territory and all of his elements recall the places where Frank Capra set his tales of problematic, but ultimately hopeful redemption.
But the film would be nothing without Nancy Oliver's detailed, wonderful screenplay. She makes you believe in fantasy beyond the sexual connotation originally intended for Bianca.
Her script, a product just as much as the doll, reminds us that life constantly shows us new perspectives on even the worst things.
Her fantasy extends into a time and place where people not only help each other, but in the realm of acceptance, company and understanding also have become to deeply love each other.
If a plastic doll can move you to tears and inspire compassion, just imagine what the grumpy downstairs neighbor might do!