Before you, a bridge rises out of the mist,
The near side your own side; the far, you resist.
On your side, so many are pleased to deride
The enemy wretches on their other side
And know in their hearts that their odious foe
Hates your side in equal amount, quid pro quo.

You fear them and jeer them and anyone near them
And anyone shy or unwilling to smear them,
And they do the same with no ending in sight
As hate begets hate and the threat of a fight.
You don’t really want one, and why would they too?
But they are untrustworthy, which they call you.

One day, though, you happen to meet one of “them,”
And though your first instinct’s perhaps to condemn
Like everyone else on the bridge’s two sides,
You doubt if it’s more than a bridge that divides.
Then, having suppressed your presumptive suspicion,
You look past the cover to read the edition.

Indeed, there’s a man behind labels and threats,
Not too unlike you, full of hopes and regrets.
You still disagree, thinking your side’s the best,
But men are more kindred than one might have guessed.
The bridge separates your two sides still suspect,
But now you await the day it may connect.
__________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

The first review I heard of Steven Spielberg’s Bridge of Spies was from a coworker who described it as “really boring but really good.” While the first part is arguable, I sincerely agree with the latter. Spielberg’s latest stab at significant historical drama may not be his most accessible, but it’s a solid addition to an already legendary filmography.

I’d wager that anyone other than a history buff probably has little more than name recognition when it comes to Gary Powers and the U-2 incident; I consider myself a semi-history buff, and I had no clue of the true story behind it, which began with the capture of Soviet spy Rudolf Abel (Oscar winner Mark Rylance). Since even criminals are given due process and no lawyer actually wants to defend an enemy spy, the powers that be task attorney James Donovan (ever-watchable Tom Hanks) with the duty of representing him in court. Donovan exhibits surprising commitment to the defense of his hated client, but it quickly becomes clear that Abel has already been convicted in the minds of both public and judge, making the prosecution nothing but a show trial.

I was reminded of how John Adams defended the British soldiers responsible for the Boston Massacre and somehow succeeded in acquitting most of them, proving the impartiality of American justice. However, such open-mindedness did not extend to the Cold War; not to say that Abel was innocent, but Donovan treats him with a laudable “innocent-until-proven-guilty” mentality and earns much hate for himself in doing so. Dirty looks on the train are one thing, but when cowardly haters take potshots through Donovan’s windows, we’re reminded that people’s respect for the law extends only as far as their own prejudices. (To be fair, I’ve read that such an incident never actually happened.) Of particular note is a scene that jumps back and forth between Donovan’s work and the secret deployment of Francis Gary Powers, the U-2 pilot shot down over enemy territory; the juxtaposition is subtle, but both men perform their duty for an unappreciative nation. The court battle could have made a good film by itself, but we see little of the legal proceedings as Donovan’s efforts are put into the larger context of international espionage, placing the attorney in the unfamiliar waters of prisoner exchanges and clandestine negotiations.

I can see how Bridge of Spies may not be a riveting experience for disinterested viewers, but I found the legal and political maneuvering consistently intriguing and not nearly as opaque as it could have been. Between the Coen brother’s intermittently witty script and Spielberg’s nuanced direction, the story flows naturally from one significant event to the next. I especially admired how certain scenes were foreshadowed or mirrored, whether for a sentimental payoff or for comparison, such as the contrast between the Soviets’ rough handling of Powers and the more civil treatment of Abel by the Americans. It may not be as exceptional a performance for Hanks compared with his more acclaimed roles, but I thought his principled character still deserved an Academy Award nomination. Rylance, who did win Best Supporting Actor, deserved praise for his drily sympathetic portrayal of Abel, but honestly I’m not sure that it would have warranted an Oscar in a more competitive year. In fact, I would have appreciated a little more interaction between Abel and Donovan, whose friendship is relegated mainly to the first half.

Despite these quibbles and the deliberate pacing, Bridge of Spies is quite close to a masterpiece. The historical basis and the focus on diplomacy and “spy stuff” through a personal lens distinguish their latest collaboration as one more success of which Hanks and Spielberg can be proud.

Best line: (Abel) “What’s the next move when you don’t know what the game is?”

Rank: List-Worthy

© 2016 S. G. Liput
386 Followers and Counting

I stand here and smile on the gallery wall,
Watching the patrons who stare and pass on,
And sometimes the curator comes in to call
To boast of my grace and my era long gone.

I’m used to the gaze of dispassionate eyes,
But I once adorned a more intimate wall
When I was a gift, not a national prize,
A visage of somebody few now recall.

Not many remember my former abode,
But my memory, like my smile, never dies,
Corrupt men and hatred marked that episode
That stole me away as mere rare merchandise.

Suppose me content with my grace and my smile
After what I have seen on my difficult road?
I won’t be content until we reconcile.
I wait for my family; to them I am owed.
______________

MPAA rating: PG-13

Woman in Gold may be the most underrated drama of 2015. Reviews were mixed, and its two award-worthy performances have been pretty much ignored by any of the awards, aside from a single SAG nomination for Helen Mirren. While everyone has their own personal grumble about the Academy’s choices, this one is mine. Woman in Gold deserves so much better.

The film’s greatest assets are its two appealing leads, played by Helen Mirren and Ryan Reynolds. Mirren is Maria Altman, an elegant grandmother who fled Nazi Germany as a young newlywed and now wishes to reclaim a painting she left behind, Gustave Klimt’s Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I, otherwise known as The Woman in Gold. The problem is that, while Maria sees it as a fond portrait of her late aunt, the nation of Austria guards it as a national treasure, their own Mona Lisa. That’s where Reynolds’ Randy Schoenberg comes in, a less-than-successful lawyer whose familial connections trump the fact that he knows nothing of art restitution cases. Together, the old lady and the bookish attorney make an unlikely team against Austria and the injustice of the past.

Many films have touched upon the Nazis’ forced appropriation of great artwork, from 1964’s The Train to 2014’s The Monuments Men, but rarely do these films present the personal cost of those crimes. They weren’t just stealing valuables, but precious antiques and family heirlooms. Art isn’t exactly my favorite subject, and Woman in Gold could have come off as just some stuffy lady wanting back what’s hers; instead, flashbacks to Maria’s life in Vienna elucidate just how much these treasures meant to her, not merely because of their monetary value but because of their memory and affection that only she can fully understand. It’s personal, and the film translates that fact effectively.

Mirren is a brilliant Maria with her grandmotherly concerns and dry wit, but when the long road to restitution takes its toll, Reynolds’ Randy steps up to keep the crusade going. Randy lives in the shadow of his judge father and famous composer grandfather, and when pushed to look into Maria’s case, he decides to give it his all, right up to the overwhelming challenge of the Supreme Court. As the case moves forward, it’s clear that it’s personal for Randy too, and visits to Vienna reinforce the importance of his Jewish-German heritage.

Woman in Gold also features welcome smaller roles from Daniel Bruhl, Frances Farmer, and Jonathan Pryce and a witty, at times tense screenplay that bounces nicely between past and present. With all these positives, why then has the film been snubbed? Perhaps because the pacing lags at times or because it isn’t entirely historically accurate. Neither of these faults bothered me, and the historical deviations don’t seem to bother the real Randy Schoenberg, who was interviewed for the film’s bonus features. Woman in Gold turns a legal battle over art into a personal underdog story, and by the Titanic-style ending, my VC was in tears and I wasn’t far behind.

Best line: (ignorant court house employee) “I want to go to Austria sometime with my daughter. She loves kangaroos!”

Rank: List-Worthy

© 2016 S. G. Liput

361 Followers and Counting

Can you be sure of where you stand
And how you’ll keep your footing when
A bit of guile gets out of hand,
And lies are needed once again?

They say the truth can set you free,
But when has someone crossed the line
Of giving up on honesty
Because to err is not divine?

When baby steps grow up too fast
And liars find them ill-advised,
They see the slope that cannot last
Began when first they compromised.
________________

Rating: PG-13 (solely for language)

For a year like 1994 that had acclaimed films like Forrest Gump, The Shawshank Redemption, and Pulp Fiction, it’s not surprising that a good but lesser film would be swept under the rug, so to speak. With so many good films that year, Quiz Show remained an afterthought, both during the awards season and for my own to-watch list, even if it was directed by Robert Redford. This really is a shame because this is a potent exploration of intellectual and personal honesty and might have performed much better in a less competitive year (1996 perhaps).

Quiz Show is based on the memoir of Richard Goodwin, an investigator for the Legislative Oversight Committee of the House of Representatives back in the 1950s. Rob Morrow plays Goodwin in the film, a lawyer who notices some peculiarities on a popular quiz show called Twenty One and follows a hunch to investigate. Apparent genius and champion Herb Stempel (John Turturro) is told to take a dive by the show’s producers (David Paymer and Hank Azaria) and loses on an easy question to allow the advent of Charles Van Doren (Ralph Fiennes). As likable Van Doren’s star rises, Stempel is ignored as he alleges corruption on the supposedly upstanding quiz show. As the investigation progresses, ethics are stretched, and new information comes to light that blurs the lines of right and wrong.

Thanks to excellent casting, Turturro and Fiennes really steal the show here. The missing teeth and, shall we say, homely appearance of the former ideally casts him as the ugly step-contestant, while the verbal grace and perfect hair of the latter offer a striking contrast to his predecessor. It leaves no doubt as to the reasoning of the showrunners. To them, Stempel should be the pitiful reject who can’t cope with losing, and Van Doren should be the shining example of virtue and erudition. In the hands of a lesser filmmaker, Stempel might have become the browbeaten underdog and Van Doren the haughty record holder. Yet while these characterizations are somewhat true, there are many more nuances and complex motivations behind them.

Van Doren, in particular, is depicted as a right decent chap, one who values honesty and intelligence but edges down a slippery slope. Fame can be quite the drug. Why else do so many people do such stupid stunts and post them on the internet? Why else would a successful college professor risk his career for a game show? One might take comfort in the “no one will ever know” mentality, but Van Doren seemed from the start as someone to respond with the “I would know” answer and refuse. Yet the web is woven. He revels in his newfound popularity but buckles under the weight of his own complicity, all while remaining entirely likable, both to us and to Mr. Goodwin. Though liberties are said to have been taken with the details, the ethical conflict rings true for this true story. After all, game shows are still watched as a matter of trust that they aren’t rigged. (I remember when Ken Jennings lost shockingly to a one-night wonder on Jeopardy! several years back. He claims that he simply didn’t know the final question, but I still have my doubts, though I tend to think he might have gotten tired of it all and “taken a dive” on his own without any behind-the-scenes intervention.)

Redford paints the moral dilemmas with a steady hand and, like some statements during the Congressional hearings near the end, offers sympathy when proper and reproof when needed. Quiz Show’s strength is that it is far from black and white. Like other films such as The Prestige or Rashomon, there is no clear-cut good guy to root for, just many victims and varying levels of blame. In the end, justice may be said to be done, but not perfectly. Corporate string-pulling proves too persuasive, but Quiz Show isn’t just about an official scandal or the innate duplicity of show business. It’s about honesty, whether tested, lost, or regained.

Best line: (Herb Stempel, offering rugalach to Goodwin) “Come on, they’re a Jewish delicacy. Before Toby eats it.” (Toby Stempel, his wife) “I’m retaining water, for your information.”   (Herb) “You and the Grand Coulee Dam.”

Rank: List-Worthy

© 2015 S. G. Liput

341 Followers and Counting