DID YOU READ

Tim Grierson on the Smart, Sexy Romantic Drama “28 Hotel Rooms”

28-hotel-rooms

Posted by on

Every year, the Sundance Film Festival serves as a launching pad and seal of approval for worthy indie fare, and this January’s festival was no different, introducing the world to films like “Beasts of the Southern Wild,” “The Sessions,” “Sleepwalk With Me” and “Safety Not Guaranteed.” But sometimes, great movies fall through the cracks, and one of this year’s festival’s very best offerings is about ready to arrive in theaters. (It’s already available On Demand and through iTunes.) It’s a beautiful romantic drama called “28 Hotel Rooms.” When I saw it in January, I was pretty sure I loved it. Watching the film again recently, I’m convinced.

The plot of the movie, which is the feature debut of writer-director Matt Ross, is right there in the title. A rising-star novelist (Chris Messina) and a married accountant (Marin Ireland) hook up one night, having passionate sex in a hotel room. It would seem like a one-time thing — he lives in New York and she lives in Seattle — but they run into each other at another hotel later and decide to continue the affair. Thus begins a series of 28 hotel encounters that trace the arc of their unlikely relationship.

With a running time of just 82 minutes — and that includes five minutes of end credits — “28 Hotel Rooms” has several narrative quirks that add to its compelling design. For starters, we only see these characters in their encounters with each other in the different hotel rooms. We never see her husband, nor know his name, and we also have little idea about his girlfriend that he has in New York. We don’t even know the main characters’ names. The film’s habit of withholding information extends to where the characters are when they’re having their affairs, how long it’s been since their previous encounter, and also how long precisely their affair runs. “28 Hotel Rooms” exists entirely in what the characters might consider their parallel reality: a world of high-end hotels where they can escape their real lives and enjoy these brief, sexually-charged flings. Everything outside the hotel rooms is a mystery, a separate zone that’s off limits to each other and to us in the audience.

The film’s construction may remind some of “Same Time, Next Year,” a 1970s play turned into a movie that featured two married individuals who have a standing annual date to carry on their affair in a small California resort. But unlike that work, “28 Hotel Rooms” isn’t interested in making its characters be representatives of America’s shifting social values. Rather, Ross just wants to focus on these two individuals and their bond, examining how their clandestine relationship affects each of them over time.

Of the two actors, Messina is the better known: He was the supportive husband to Amy Adams in “Julie & Julia,” and he’s appeared on TV shows as different as “Damages” and “The Mindy Project.” Here, he plays a man who isn’t your typical one-night-stand sort of guy. From the beginning, you get the sense that he feels something for this married woman, even though she’s a bit withholding about what goes on in her life. (And because we never see them away from the hotels, we have to take the few clues we get into their worlds at face value.) Messina’s counterpart, Ireland, isn’t quite as high-profile, although she was a part of the “Mildred Pierce” miniseries and appeared on “Homeland.” (This summer, she played the daughter of Tommy Lee Jones and Meryl Streep in “Hope Springs,” a nice piece of casting because Ireland bears a slight resemblance to Streep, particularly her sad, smiling eyes.) Ireland’s “28 Hotel Rooms” character is less emotionally available than he is. That’s in part because she’s married, but over time we begin to understand that it goes beyond that: She’s simply a distant person, although she’s incredibly warm and loving at the same time. In lesser hands, “28 Hotel Rooms” would be a schematic study of opposites — he’s an artist, she’s a businesswoman; he’s impulsive, she’s practical — but Ross and his cast love these characters too much to look at them as types.

Last year, we got not one but two Hollywood romantic comedies about unconventional no-strings-attached relationships: sex without the tedium of being boyfriend and girlfriend. “No Strings Attached” and “Friends With Benefits” both tried to flaunt their modern twist on typical boy-meets-girl love stories — it was meant to seem “sexy” and “naughty” — but they ended up as traditional in their attitudes as a Kate Hudson rom-com. The characters in “28 Hotel Rooms” travel down a somewhat similar path — their early encounters are filled with nudity and sexual banter, while their later meet-ups often consist of emotional, substantial conversations with their clothes on — but there’s a nuance to the story’s arc that makes its trajectory far from predictable. And it’s also an incredibly sexy film, not just because of the nudity but because of the intelligent, grownup construction of these two characters. He and she are smart, articulate, sophisticated people, and they have a warm rapport that feels genuine to the way couples actually behave, even if this particular relationship is far from normal. “28 Hotel Rooms” never judges its characters because of their affair, and in this way it’s actually nervier than those other recent movies, in which there really weren’t any emotional stakes.

When I saw “28 Hotel Rooms” back in January, I was quite taken by its structure, its performances and the subtle way in which it explores how all relationships begin with such passion but then must evolve if they’re going to last. Revisiting the film, I felt the same way, but I was surprised by another reaction: I had missed these people — not the actors, per see, but these two characters. Without realizing it, they had stayed in my mind for months, and I relished the opportunity to relive their hotel adventures. They make each other laugh, and they make each other cry, and they might not survive if they tried to end the charade and admit to their significant others that they’re in love. But I found myself rooting for them all over again, even though, as a married man myself, I probably shouldn’t be supporting such behavior. But I think that’s ultimately one of this film’s great strengths: It takes an adulterous relationship seriously enough that its contours become indistinguishable from any other romantic relationship. Musician Lou Reed once sang, “It always comes to this/It’s all downhill after the first kiss,” and it’s important to remember that he was in the midst of a long-term relationship when he wrote this lyric in an otherwise happy love song. All couples, no matter how contented they are, are always trying to keep a spark alive. In a sense, all relationships are their own self-contained mystery, unknowable to the outside world. With “28 Hotel Rooms,” we get a chance to peek inside one of them, and damn if it doesn’t speak to so many of our own.

Underworld

Under Your Spell

10 Otherworldly Romances That’ll Melt Your Heart

Spend Valentine's Day weekend with IFC's Underworld movie marathon.

Posted by on
Photo Credit: Screen Gems/courtesy Everett Collection

Romance takes many forms, and that is especially true when you have a thirst for blood or laser beams coming out of your eyes.  It doesn’t matter if you’re a werewolf, a superhero, a clone, a time-traveler, or a vampire, love is the one thing that infects us all.  Read on to find out why Romeo and Juliet have nothing on these supernatural star-crossed lovers, and be sure to catch IFC’s Underworld movie marathon this Valentine’s Day weekend.

1. Cyclops/Jean Grey/Wolverine, X-Men series

The X-Men franchise is rife with romance, but the steamiest “ménage à mutant” may just be the one between Jean Grey (Famke Janssen), Cyclops (James Marsden), and Wolverine (Hugh Jackman). Their triangle is a complicated one as Jean finds herself torn between the two very different men while also trying to control her darker side, the Phoenix. This leads to Jean killing Cyclops and eventually getting stabbed through her heart by Wolverine in X-Men: The Last Stand. Yikes!  Maybe they should change the name to Ex-Men instead?


2. Willow/Tara, Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Joss Whedon gave audiences some great romances on Buffy the Vampire Slayer — including the central triangle of Buffy, Angel, and Spike — but it was the love between witches Willow (Alyson Hannigan) and Tara (Amber Benson) that broke new ground for its sensitive and nuanced portrayal of a LGBT relationship.

Willow is smart and confident and isn’t even sure of her sexuality when she first meets Tara at college in a Wiccan campus group. As the two begin experimenting with spells, they realize they’re also falling for one another and become the show’s most enduring, happy couple. At least until Tara’s death in season six, a moment that still brings on the feels.


3. Selene/Michael, Underworld series

The Twilight gang pales in comparison (both literally and metaphorically) to the Lycans and Vampires of the stylish Underworld franchise. If you’re looking for an epic vampire/werewolf romance set amidst an epic vampire/werewolf war, Underworld handily delivers in the form of leather catsuited Selene (Kate Beckinsale) and shaggy blonde hunk Michael (a post-Felicity Scott Speedman). As they work together to stop the Vampire/Lycan war, they give into their passions while also kicking butt in skintight leather. Love at first bite indeed.


4. Spider-man/Mary Jane Watson, Spider-man

After rushing to the aid of beautiful girl-next-door Mary Jane Watson (Kirsten Dunst), the Amazing Spider-man is rewarded with an upside-down kiss that is still one of the most romantic moments in comic book movie history. For Peter Parker (Tobey Maguire), the shy, lovable dork beneath the mask, his rain-soaked makeout session is the culmination of years of unrequited love and one very powerful spider bite. As the films progress, Peter tries pushing MJ away in an attempt to protect her from his enemies, but their web of love is just too powerful. And you know, with great power, comes great responsibility.


5. Molly/Sam, Ghost

When it comes to supernatural romance, you really can’t beat Molly and Sam from the 1990 hit film Ghost. Demi Moore goes crazy for Swayze like the rest of us, and the pair make pottery sexier than it’s ever been.

When Sam is murdered, he’s forced to communicate through con artist turned real psychic, Oda Mae Brown (Whoopi Goldberg in her Academy Award-winning role) to warn Molly she is still in danger from his co-worker, Carl (a pre-Scandal Tony Goldwyn). Molly doesn’t believe Oda is telling the truth, so Sam proves it by sliding a penny up the wall and then possessing Oda so he and Molly can share one last romantic dance together (but not the dirty kind). We’d pay a penny for a dance with Patrick Swayze ANY day.


6. Cosima/Delphine, Orphan Black

It stands to reason there would be at least one complicated romance on a show about clones, and none more complicated than the one between clone Cosima (Tatiana Maslany) and Dr. Delphine Cormier (Evelyne Brochu) on BBC America’s hit drama Orphan Black.

Cosima is a PhD student focusing on evolutionary developmental biology at the University of Minnesota when she meets Delphine, a research associate from the nefarious Dyad Institute, posing as a fellow immunology student. The two fall in love, but their happiness is brief once Dyad and the other members of Clone Club get involved. Here’s hoping Cosima finds love in season four of Orphan Black. Girlfriend could use a break.


7. Aragorn/Arwen, Lord of the Rings

On a picturesque bridge in Rivendell amidst some stellar mood-lighting and dreamy Elvish language with English subtitles for us non-Middle Earthlings, Arwen (Liv Tyler) and Aragorn (Viggo Mortensen) bind their souls to one another, pledging to love each other no matter what befalls them.

Their courtship is a matter of contention with Arwen’s father, Elrond (Hugo Weaving), who doesn’t wish to see his daughter suffer over Aragorn’s future death. The two marry after the conclusion of the War of the Ring, with Aragorn assuming his throne as King of Gondor, and Arwen forgoing her immortality to become his Queen. Is it too much to assume they asked Frodo to be their wedding ring-bearer?


8. Lafayette/Jesus, True Blood

True Blood quickly became the go-to show for supernatural sex scenes featuring future Magic Mike strippers (Joe Manganiello) and pale Nordic men with washboard abs (Hi Alexander Skarsgård!), but honestly, there was a little something for everyone, including fan favorite Bon Temps medium, Lafayette Reynolds (Nelsan Ellis).

In season three, Lafayette met his mother’s nurse, Jesus, and the two began a relationship. As they spend more time together and start doing V (short for Vampire Blood), they learn Jesus is descended from a long line of witches and that Lafayette himself has magical abilities. However, supernatural love is anything but simple, and after the pair join a coven, Lafayette becomes possessed by the dead spirit of its former leader. This relationship certainly puts a whole new spin on possessive love.


9. Nymphadora Tonks/Remus Lupin, Harry Potter series

There are lots of sad characters in the Harry Potter series, but Remus Lupin ranks among the saddest. He was bitten by a werewolf as a child, his best friend was murdered and his other best friend was wrongly imprisoned in Azkaban for it, then THAT best friend was killed by a Death Eater at the Ministry of Magic as Remus looked on. So when Lupin unexpectedly found himself in love with badass Auror and Metamorphmagus Nymphadora Tonks (she prefers to be called by her surname ONLY, thank you very much), pretty much everyone, including Lupin himself, was both elated and cautiously hopeful about their romance and eventual marriage.

Sadly, the pair met a tragic ending when both were killed by Death Eaters during the Battle of Hogwarts, leaving their son, Teddy, orphaned much like his godfather Harry Potter. Accio hankies!


10. The Doctor/Rose Tyler, Doctor Who

Speaking of wolves, Rose “Bad Wolf” Tyler (Billie Piper) captured the Doctor’s hearts from the moment he told her to “Run!” in the very first episode of the re-booted Doctor Who series. Their affection for one another grew steadily deeper during their travels in the TARDIS, whether they were stuck in 1950s London, facing down pure evil in the Satan Pit, or battling Cybermen.

But their relationship took a tragic turn during the season two finale episode, “Doomsday,” when the Tenth Doctor (David Tennant) and Rose found themselves separated in parallel universes with no way of being reunited (lest two universes collapse as a result of a paradox). A sobbing Rose told a holographic transmission of the Doctor she loved him, but before he could reply, the transmission cut out, leaving our beloved Time Lord (and most of the audience) with a tear-stained face and two broken hearts all alone in the TARDIS.

Tim Grierson on Being a Reformed Horror-Movie Wimp

freddy

Posted by on

It’s Halloween time, which means you’ve probably seen plenty of those “Scariest Movies of All Time” lists pop up on the web. Looking at the movie titles on those countdowns, you probably remember the first time you saw them, maybe as a kid during a sleepover with a friend when you were probably too young to handle it. Or maybe it was in a packed theater with your buddies, all soaking in the scares together. Not me. I’ve seen most of the top horror movies, but only as an adult. You see, I was a scaredy-cat as a kid.

For a lot of red-blooded American boys (and girls), seeing horror movies is a rite of passage: They’re another way to prove that you’re tough and cool and not some baby. I never went through that phase as an adolescent — I guess I was just a sensitive kid, and the idea of watching slasher movies and being exposed to tense situations in a dark theater just wasn’t all that appealing. (I also didn’t ride roller coasters. Yeah, I was that kid.) Other young people had a natural curiosity about experiencing terrifying things — I just never did. In fact, I didn’t see my first horror movie until I was 16, and even then it wasn’t my choice. It was a double date, and I tried hard to convince everybody else that we should check out “Dead Again,” the well-reviewed Kenneth Branagh thriller. I got outvoted, and off to “Freddy’s Dead: The Final Nightmare” I went. I hated it — not because it was scary but because it was terrible. I was pretty convinced that my lifelong aversion to horror movies had been well-founded.

But I knew that wasn’t going to be the end of it. I was going off to film school, and if I really wanted to have a career in the movies, eventually I’d have to start watching horror flicks. Much to my relief, once I started watching them in classes … well, I can’t say I became an instant fan, but I did start to develop an appreciation for them. Growing up as a budding film enthusiast, I tended to prefer dramas and other “serious” movies, deciding that they were somehow “superior” to comedies or action blockbusters or horror films. (Looking back, I realize that the 15-year-old version of myself had the same prejudiced mindset as your typical Oscar voter.) But in film school, I began to understand how horror movies often reflected (or capitalized on) the real horrors of their times. How “Night of the Living Dead” spoke to the paranoia and confusion of the Cold War/Vietnam era. How David Cronenberg’s remake of “The Fly” could be seen as a parable about the fear of AIDS. But perhaps most importantly of all, I came to recognize that, done well, horror movies were as “meaningful” as any other type of film, whether it be the psychological horror of “Rosemary’s Baby” or the haunted-house suspense of “The Innocents.” These revelations ought to have been obvious, but for me they weren’t.

Not that I suddenly became a horror fanatic: Those movies had their place, sure, but I didn’t rush out to see the latest installment of this or that horror franchise. But even if I wasn’t all that passionate about those kinds of movies, I wasn’t done with them. When I started reviewing movies, I’d work for outlets that would assign me the films that other people didn’t want, which was understandable since I was the low guy on the totem pole. And so I ended up at a ton of horror screenings. Most of them were bad — I’ve blocked out the titles — but the weird thing was, I usually had a pretty good time watching them. Partly, this was because I was just starting out as a critic — since this was the job I’d wanted since I was a boy, each assignment was incredibly exciting — but, also, I started to gain an appreciation for how hard it is to make a good horror movie. Not unlike comedies, which are constantly trying to elicit laughs, horror films are working to get a visceral reaction out of you. If you’re just sitting there passively watching the screen, the movie’s not working. I realized how much pressure that was on a filmmaker, and so I found myself weirdly intrigued seeing how the director went about trying to freak me out.

But another major component, I must admit, is that I still carried around with me that feeling of what it was like to be a scared little kid — a sensitive boy who was afraid that horror movies would be too rough for me. If you talk to psychologists, they’ll tell you that one of the reasons why people love horror movies is because they get to experience the sensation of being terrified in a safe environment. You shriek or sweat or feel your heart pound, but you don’t have to worry about dying — when it’s over, you go home without a scratch on you. (Same thing with roller coasters: We put ourselves in harrowing circumstances without the anxiety of real consequences.) When I was young, there must have been a part of me that wasn’t convinced I’d escape unscathed. I think I was afraid of what being scared would feel like and what it would say about me — that I wasn’t tough or cool or manly enough. And yet, here I was as an adult, reviewing horror movies — and I never died once.

Nowadays, I still review some horror movies, and my colleagues are always a bit surprised when I’m not dreading going. Most adults I know in general — and critics in particular — hate horror movies. They find them immature, tedious, badly made and predictable — and, for the most part, they’re right. But there are times when there’s a good horror movie, like the recent “Sinister” or the “Paranormal Activity” series, and it gives you an experience that’s like nothing else at the movies: You genuinely and unreservedly get scared. Everybody else, who grew up watching horror movies, has probably become a little blase about that sensation now that they’re older. Me, I feel like I’m making up for lost time.

Tim Grierson on the Indie Gem “Take This Waltz”

Take This Waltz

Posted by on

A few years ago, the Los Angeles Film Critics Association (of which I’m a member) bestowed its annual New Generation award to Sarah Polley. It might have seemed like an odd pick: Polley had been an actress of some acclaim since the 1990s, compelling in everything from “The Sweet Hereafter” to “Go” to the “Dawn of the Dead” remake. But the prize was given to her for her new career, that as the director of “Away From Her,” the elegant 2007 romantic drama starring Julie Christie and Gordon Pinsent that was based on Alice Munro’s short story about an aging couple coping with one partner’s encroaching Alzheimer’s. Polley had proved herself an extremely gifted presence in front of the camera — what a pleasant surprise that she was just as capable behind it.

The worry about giving out a New Generation award is whether the recipient will be able to live up to his or her early promise. Thankfully, in the case of Polley, her second film as a director, “Take This Waltz,” is just as rewarding. You may have missed it during the heat of summer movie season, but it will be arriving on DVD on Tuesday. It’s definitely worth seeking out.

“Take This Waltz” is a romantic drama like “Away From Her,” but this time around she’s focusing on characters closer to her own age. And she’s not adapting another writer’s work this time — “Take This Waltz” is an original screenplay, one that concerns a romantic triangle in which there are no clear good guys or bad guys. Polley offers no simple solutions for either her characters or the audience.

The movie stars Michelle Williams as Margot, a young woman living in Toronto who approaches her 30th birthday with some trepidation. Yes, she’s married to a loving, sweet guy named Lou (Seth Rogen), but their adorable life together doesn’t leave her fully fulfilled — a fact we pick up on when the movie opens and she’s flirting with an artist named Daniel (Luke Kirby) while out of town on a quick trip. It seems like a passing sensation, nothing more, but she quickly discovers that she and Daniel live on the same block. She shouldn’t hang out with him once she gets home, but, well, she likes the guy’s company.

Their relationship, which is actually just a friendship, serves as the heart of “Take This Waltz,” and Polley never fully suggests what Margot should do: dump her husband or tell Daniel that nothing can happen between them. The movie quite confidently resides in an ambiguous middle ground, which shifts the emphasis toward Margot rather than the two men in her life. As Polley makes clear, Margot isn’t really choosing between Lou and Daniel: She’s picking between different futures, different mindsets, different paths to follow. In other words, Margot is really trying to figure out who she’s supposed to be, and “Take This Waltz” can be achingly poignant in its portrayal of this bright but lost young woman.

This isn’t to say that “Take This Waltz” is flawless. In their attempts to show Margot’s confusion, Polley and Williams sometimes risk turning the character into a self-absorbed, overly cutesy pushover. And the film sometimes meanders. But those defects have a way of becoming strengths, giving the story a relatable messiness that’s in keeping with the characters’ unfinished, hesitant lives. And Williams’s co-stars are great. Kirby steals the movie and has received the lion’s share of the praise, giving Daniel a sensual, sensitive magnetism that’s hard to resist, but Rogen’s role is in some ways trickier. He’s stuck playing the nice-guy husband, but he and Polley make him a fully developed character, alternately loving and irritating in a way that those closest to us can be.

Perhaps it’s impossible to transcend the clichés of the romantic-triangle storyline, but you have to give Polley credit for the sincerity and insights she brings to a seemingly familiar scenario. It’s a sign of this film’s smarts that even at the end I wasn’t entirely sure if Margot had made the right decision — I feel pretty positive Polley isn’t, either. Like few movies, “Take This Waltz” understands that not many people find that one perfect soul mate — instead, it’s a question of making certain compromises to find happiness. If you’re not careful, this movie can break your heart. And after seeing it, you may have a hard time hearing the Buggles’ “Video Killed the Radio Star” without getting a little melancholy.

Powered by ZergNet