MOVIE REVIEW: Run This Town

(Image courtesy of Oscilloscope and Quiver Distribution)

RUN THIS TOWN-- 3 STARS

Behind every political monster has a staff of underlings who have stories to tell and permanent stains on their resumes. More often than not, unless they are a featured mouthpiece or the eventual public whistle-blower, we don’t really see these people, even when we know they are there. Across the guarded podiums, pushy microphones, and invasive cameras are also the faceless by-lines of cub reporters trying to break stories and make a name for themselves. They too are dependent on the grinding political machine. Run This Town, an alum of the 2019 SXSW Film Festival, gives faces and voices to unfortunate minions and nobodies tied to the late and former mayor of Toronto mayor Rob Ford.

This shrewdly movie leaves the monster in the background and highlights the eager and opportunistic help. After a quick primer of archival footage, we meet a cadre of subordinates filling the council chamber seats of their political bosses after hours. They are crushing beers and challenging each other with practice lobs of schemes to spin. The king of this court is Kamal, the special assistant to the mayor, played by Aladdin discovery Mena Massoud. Rapid-fire Sorkin-esque dialogue framed by split-screen shooting and editing shows the smoothly acidic, yet pragmatic guile of Kamal and this crew, none of which are likely over the age of 30.

With a braggadocios “they don’t call us special assistants for nothing,” what was done in mock here becomes their day-to-day livelihood in public trailing the rotund, sweaty, and explosive Rob Ford. Looming in the wild and clueless periphery, the mayor is played an unrecognizable Damian Lewis of Homeland. Outstanding prosthetic makeup from department head and It makeup artist Emily O’Quinn and designers Steve Newburn and Neil Morrill (Shazam! And Suicide Squad) molds the actor into the rough-edged sinner who sees himself as a man-of-the-people do-gooder when he’s actually a raging addict and philanderer. 

But that’s the boss, and you don’t cross the boss. Smashing opposition, combating scandal, and dodging social media pursuits has become the livelihood of all in Ford’s inner circle of handlers. It’s a choice paycheck, but one that costs integrity, as noted when a jaded law degree holder named Ashley (Nina Dobrev) is brought in as a new hire to swim in these murky waters.

Parallel to Kamal’s cynicism of misinformation is another twenty-something trying to squeeze virtue and confidence from the truth instead. Bram (Ben Platt of Pitch Perfect) is a mossy green journalism grad who earns a job with The Record writing bottom-of-the-roster list pieces for his tired desk editor David (Scott Speedman) and to the disapproval of his pushy parents. Idealist to a fault, Bram is a squirmy, dithering bumbler, and Platt overplays those wussy nerves every chance he gets as a foil to the Massoud’s suave slants. When he chases a possibly incendiary story of Ford’s recorded crack cocaine use, entangled sources from the mayor’s office and a pair of detectives (Hamza Haq and long-lost Ally McBeal star Gil Bellows) come sniffing around.

LESSON #1: THE DESPERATION CONNECTED TO EARNING AND KEEPING A PROMINENT JOB-- Two halves between Kamal and Bram are both struggling. The reporter is at the bottom looking up and the political puppeteer is on top peering down. Working for a powerful mayor at this level is quite the springboard for a young person, as is getting the chance to hop up the ladder to pitch and scoop a legitimate journalism assignment for a name publication. However, the height of career failure is high for both sides in Run This Town. Keeping your job overshadows the CYA of “cover your ass” and that potential calamity is even higher for a woman like Ashley.

LESSON #2: WHEN YOU HAVE A STORY-- For Bram, the question is validating all of the rumors and misinformation for what is being presented. For Kamal and his office, the same possible incident is measured for any needed damage control. One is untangling, the other is twisting, and the yarn in question is the worthiness and clarity of the truth. This chase slots Run This Town as an highly off-beat and intriguing scandal and journalism flick.

LESSON #3: WHEN YOU DON’T HAVE A STORY-- The rub of it all becomes the words used, between both spoken statements and printed copy. Those stabbing and snappy words come from debuting writer-director Ricky Tollman. Free speech, lacking facts, and slanted coverage allow spin which can flush a bad thing away, leaving the pursuer with nothing to corroborate or publish. Poor moves and bumbling the channels of reporting will cost stories as well. What destroys spin is when the victimizing and crossed lines add up or go too far, even against the aforementioned desperation of forced career loyalty.

The style is present in Run This Town to be a modern homage to the slow-boil political thrillers of the 1970s. The punchy music from debuting Ali Shaheed Muhammad and Adrian Younge (Black Dynamite) creates a sharp tone to the kitschy visual motifs that include clever screen-filled hidden letters of the opening and closing credits. The multi-point cinematography by Nick Haight (Clara) is top-notch. Lit often and appropriately by fluorescent isolation or bar-lit seediness, Haight’s rotating establishing shots and pinching zooms pump the peril fueled by kinetic editing by emerging talent Sandy Pereira. Their combined split-screen effect creates an energetic film experience, but that approach is slowed and eventually abandoned by the end.  That pacing and presentation would have done wonders if kept the entire film.

The narrative impact of Run This Town veers closer to Lesson #3 than Lesson #2. Taking this background route is a far more unique approach to an expose than documenting the main man himself and all of the deplorable behavior connected to him. The professional high-wire creates and includes more character opportunities than a single focus. That said, there’s a loosey-goosey grip on this because, no matter what, the story is still Rob Ford. As compelling as Massoud and Dobrov are, the business of true suspense and menace picks up when Lewis makes his appearances. A film wanting to be heavy needed more of its heavy.

LOGO DESIGNED BY MEENTS ILLUSTRATED (#864)

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MOVIE REVIEW: Onward

(Image courtesy of Disney/Pixar)

ONWARD-- 4 STARS

In what has become a signature term and evolving metric for this writer, the “Pixar Punch” remains more undefeated than any boxer. For new readers of mine, it is, to quote my review of the non-Pixar short film Borrowed Time, the animation studio’s “uncanny ability to absolutely destroy our hearts with raw and simple emotionality in perfectly calculated amounts and moments.” On the surface, Onward is a silly quest movie for the tabletop gamer demo that has been cast into a March abyss instead of gleaming in Pixar’s annual mid-June tentpole throne. In actuality, this funnybone-slaying riot gives way to the kind of heart-rending climax that proves the Pixar Punch keeps manifesting itself in more and more unexpected places. 

The bardic prologue narration and imagery details an old land of myth and magic which rapidly metamorphosed with the advent of pragmatic science, invention, and technology. What was astonishing, virtuous, and helpful has faded in relevance and memory for most. Akin to Zootopia, an Earth-like suburbia is now the less-bestial stomping grounds for civilized elves, unicorns, mermaids, cyclops, fauns, pixies, centaurs, and more. 

One residential family of this realm are the Lightfoots. For years, Laurel Lightfoot (Julia Louis-Dreyfus) has raised two boys alone after the death of her husband Wilden (Kyle Bornheimer of Timmy Failure: Mistakes Were Made). Her worry-wort youngest son Ian (Tom Holland) is turning 16 and trying to figure out a place of value in his social circles. His embarrassing and inseparable-like-gum-on-the-bottom-of-your-shoe older brother Barley (Chris Pratt) is a van-ramblin’ and unemployed manchild who fashions himself as a history buff due to his adoring participation with and love for the role-playing “Quests of Lore” game.   

LESSON #1: THE DIFFICULTIES FOR CHILDREN WHO HAVE LOST PARENTS-- We have two young men who have grown up without a father from a young age and it shows. One walks with overwhelming fear and the other doesn’t feel fear. Fortunately, and unlike the Disney trope of overplaying orphan stories, their mother has done a superb job of maintaining a house of love. If at any point you feel this story setup is too specific, convenient, or manipulative, seek out director Dan Scanlon’s true story behind this movie and either unsquint or unroll your eyes.

Lamentation turns into opportunity when Laurel uncovers a genuine magician’s staff, a special gift from Wilden saved for when both boys turned at least 16 years old. Wrapped with that robust rod are special instructions for an incantation that will bring their father back to life one-time-only for 24 hours. In all his geekdom, Barley cannot conjure even a twinkle of magic. It is Ian who displays the latent potential power to brandish ancient sorcery. 

Humorously, the untamed spell only constructs Wilden’s body from the waist down. With a ticking clock marching towards the next sunset, Ian and Barley lug their dad’s blind legs around and set out to find another crystal to power the staff and complete the temporary rebirth. Gusto, guitar riffs, gasoline, and a spirited score from Oscar winner Mychael Danna and his brother Jeff send these brothers (and later their mom) on a merry chase.

LESSON #2: HOW QUESTS WORK-- Quests can be with or without adventure. Unquestionably, “with” always beats “without.” This wouldn’t be a proper escapade without paths of peril, a gauntlet of challenges, puzzles to solve, necessary items to seek, curses to avoid, experiences to be had, passions to ignite, and confidences to strengthen. Some of this forced fluff of urgency constitutes yet another manic tail-chasing narrative from Pixar. However, the originality and creativity of the world-building and, even better, the character-building make Onward’s romp worthwhile.

Fit to hang with the likes of Mike, Sully, Lightning McQueen, and Mater, Barley and Ian of Onward stand to become new entertainment emblems for the fathers and sons in the audiences. Winsome and exuberant humor is unleashed by the banter between Pratt and Holland and the heavily stylized community conundrums they find themselves in. The equally intrepid involvement of Laurel and Corey, a winged wingwoman of importance played uproariously by Oscar winner Octavia Spencer, expands this movie’s success beyond merely the lads. There are inner warriors of all shapes, sizes, and genders to celebrate in this jovial family film.

LESSON #3: THE IMPORTANCE OF GETTING SOMETHING RIGHT BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE-- Time is the only real enemy in Onward. This setting’s present era of innovation was built on top of a destroyed past of wonderment which the world now lacks. At the same time, there is a past versus future outlook reminder for teens and twenty-somethings. The message is to value any moment as it were the last chance you’ll have with whatever or whomever shares that same moment. Time could run out and leave those personal adventures and quests frustratingly and sadly unfinished.   

LESSON #4: SHARING LIFE WITH FAMILY-- Right in time for the Pixar Punch, Onward elevates from fantasy tomfoolery into a touching story of siblings and parents. If you’re lucky enough to have a close sibling, you have shared a life with someone extremely special. You have witnessed their regrettable worst and their unforgettable best, and vice versa. Sharing also implies that you may have had to give up individual opportunities for each other. If you have ever lost a part of that kind of family unit, either temporarily or permanently, you feel that missing attachment with every fiber of your being.

LOGO DESIGNED BY MEENTS ILLUSTRATED (#863)

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MOVIE REVIEW: Burden

Photo by Mark Hill for 101 Studios

BURDEN-- 3 STARS

It is very relevant and very opportune how the true-to-life main character’s last name fittingly became a perfect title for this kind of movie. Call it telling. Call it fate even. One could also call it a warning.  Burden is as dramatic and uncomfortable as the many layers of the namesake word itself. The winner of the U.S. Dramatic Audience Award at the 2018 Sundance Film Festival finally makes its theatrical bow nearly two years after its praised debut.  

LESSON #1: THE DEFINITION OF “BURDEN”-- The Merriam-Webster Dictionary logs five disemminations for “burden.” They include “something oppressive or worrisome,” “a duty or responsibility,” “something that is carried,” “the bearing of a load,” and finally “the capacity for carrying cargo.”  All five are arduous in their own way, and all five occupy the heft of Andrew Heckler’s directorial debut from 101 Studios. Let’s swerve within and weave the upheaval of it all together.

The setting defines the oppression and worry present. This is Laurens, South Carolina in 1996 where a faction of the white townsfolk have rehabbed the Echo Theater. What is introduced to possibly be honest construction work reveals its true intimidating purpose when the drape drops across the marque and the Confederate colors unfurl to reveal the theater transformed into the Redneck KKK Museum. The local wizard with the ring everyone kisses in town is Tom Griffin (Academy Award nominee Tom Wilkinson). His Plantation Concrete and Repossession front orchestrates property, poverty, and people in this community with indignant spits and scowls in public and torch-bearing hoods to terrorize at night. 

Where the KKK burn crosses, a different fire is lit across town. That flame is one of faith belonging to Baptist church leader David Kennedy, played by Oscar winner Forest Whitaker. Reverend Kennedy typifies the weight of duty and responsibility. Despite the suffocating hate seething from the racial opponents, David is committed to his desired path of nonviolence for his parishioners and his own wife Janice (Crystal Fox of Big Little Lies) and angry teen son Kelvin (Dexter Darden of The Maze Runner series). He, his followers, and even a visiting Jesse Jackson protest the new racist landmark.

LESSON #2: LOVE VERSUS FEAR-- This is the paramount ideal of Rev. Kennedy’s messages, whether it’s on a pulpit or shouted into a megaphone. He cites Jesus’s perfect love as the most honest and surefire way of rebuking evil. That progress is slow and difficult and he may be outnumbered and outgunned in Laurens.

The ingrained hate enforced by Griffin runs deep for one of his dragons and our title focus Mike Burden. Played with snarled speech and even more gnarled twitch by Garrett Hedlund in an extraordinary and immersive performance, Mike Burden may be lockstep with the KKK, but he slowly shows his capacity for humanity underneath. This comes out in his courtship of the tough cookie Judy (Mandy’s Andrea Riseborough) and her unprejudiced son. However, the weight of manly expectations on Mike and years of conditioned behavior as a former orphan brought up within those monstrous attitudes is hard to shake. He epitomizes the “something that is carried” notion from earlier.

Mike’s softening through Judy has him finally leave the KKK, much to the irritation of Griffin and his former brothers-in-robes. Unemployed, evicted, and expelled from jobs for his attitude and reputation, he and Judy live out of a car and panhandle for money. Living his mission even when seen as impossible, Rev. Kennedy takes Mike and Judy in for roof and a meal.

LESSON #3: BE CAREFUL-- Rev. Kennedy is inviting a violent man into his home who once had him in a sniper’s crosshairs.  That same man though is disowned and dealing with repercussions and ramifications of his present situation and his past actions. In a way, Rev. Kennedy now takes on that “capacity” level of “burden” as well as the danger that comes with it. It’s very ominous how the most lines of “be careful” come from Tom Griffin and his very real, yet veiled threats.

LESSON #4: LOVE THY ENEMY-- The proverbial “capacity for carrying cargo” is really the capacity for charity. How many of even the most holy people can accept and take on the challenge David has championed?  To many, it’s an unfathomable position. Rev. Kennedy, through a stalwart showing from Forest Whitaker (one would expect nothing less from the veteran that so often exudes empathy from his pores), is a man willing to put his faith in men equal to his faith in God. 

LESSON #5: REMOVING BURDEN-- The path before Mike and Rev. Kennedy is removing the title hindance and all its trappings. This story evolves from documenting tension to one of spiritual awakening. For the historical characters, that requires admitting wrongs, repenting, and learning to mind themselves with love instead of its negative opposites. The film’s epilogue shows the archival television interviews with Burden and Kennedy, and they really seal the potential impact of this viewing experience.

That said, this is not an easy walkabout or spiritual amputation. It is not subtle, but neither is hard personal change like that found in this story. Burden is ugly and maddening even with dramatization. You may not like it, but the effort is there to respect.

The issues come from imbalance. For every all-in Method nuance from Hedlund or constant commendable grace from Whitaker, there are other actors (like Wilkinson, Riseborough, Austin Hebert, and Usher Raymond) filling in the checkboxes of regional/racial stereotypes with little depth. There’s a smidge of “if you’ve seen one raging redneck stereotype, you’ve seen them all.”

Those imbalances spill into the production as well. Sounds of tone-signaling church bells and chorus of piped-in southern country sounds are broken by the electric guitar chords of composer Dickon Hinchliffe for an up-and-down aural experience. Cinematographer and short film specialist Jeremy Rouse is all over the place with an in-your-face shaky-cam style that tries to eventually steady at the same pace as the lead character calms, but the jiggle is overly-used and jarring.

The final disproportion comes from the strength of this story. The bite is there, so to speak, but not soothed enough. If the proper swell and inspiration of the Mike Burden story is his recovery and rebirth, Heckler’s movie takes far too long to get to that peak. If the useful emphasis is the healing and not the hurt and the tenet lessons listed above, that’s what the experience emphasis should favor.

LOGO DESIGNED BY MEENTS ILLUSTRATED (#862)

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MEDIA APPEARANCE: Guest on the "Feelin' Film" podcast for "If Beale Street Could Talk"

As a special for Black History Month, I was honored to join Aaron White and Patrick Hicks of the Feelin' Film Podcast for an opportunity to love all over my #1 film of 2018, If Beale Street Could Talk from Moonlight Oscar winner Barry Jenkins. Joining me as another guest and bringing the dais to four was Kolby Mac, the new host of FF’s “Black Label” podcast. This was such a wonderful episode! Listeners are in for a treat! Take a listen to the episode here or below: 

My Full Review of "If Beale Street Could Talk"

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GUEST COLUMN: 6 Finnish Movies You Need to Watch

Image Source: Pixabay

6 Finnish Movies You Need To Watch

by Anna Nilsen

Finland has a rich cinematic history, although it is not as widely talked about on the international scene as many other nations. To fix that and get more people into Finnish film culture, here are just a few of the top movies that the country has produced.

Mother of Mine

Often ranked among the best Finnish films of the 21st century so far, Mother of Mine offers a unique perspective on the Second World War as it looks at the experience of a young child who is sent away from his family home to live in Sweden to avoid the worst of the fighting. Strong performances, an evocative score and attractive cinematography help to elevate this above average war movie status, while the surprisingly vibrant color palette helps to further differentiate it and it has won audience acclaim as well as critical praise.

Drifting Clouds

Blending elements of comedy with moments of drama, Drifting Clouds is an emotional rollercoaster of a film that follows an unemployed couple as they try to get their lives back on track. Made in the mid-1990s, it represents the highs and lows of modern living and even includes a trip to a land-based casino, which may seem surprising to modern audiences who are used to a casino being available online. This shows how changing times and technologies can alter perceptions of film plots.

Lapland Odyssey

This oddball comedy caper shows that Finnish filmmakers are more than happy to showcase a sense of humor in their work, even if the results are a little quirkier than mainstream audiences might expect. The movie follows a group of 20-somethings in a quest to try and procure a set top box in spite of being surrounded by the wilderness of Finland’s frozen north. Car chases, naked snow sprinting, police encounters and much more madness ensues. 

Frozen Land

If Lapland Odyssey is upbeat and easy to watch, Frozen Land is the polar opposite; a film which explores the domino effect of malicious acts that is kick-started after a teacher loses his job and lets his bad mood get the better of him. While it may sound like a bleak drama, the movie is actually quite comic and speaks to the darkly humorous sensibilities that are developed in a place where the sun does not rise for weeks on end during the winter months. Well liked by critics when it was released in 2006, Frozen Land still packs a punch.

Steam of Life

One of Finland’s biggest contributions to the world is the sauna, and this documentary delves into what it is that makes it such a cultural phenomenon in its homeland. Like all good factual films, Steam of Life constructs its narrative carefully, explores its subject matter with deep affection and lets viewers in on some emotionally involving moments in the lives of the people it features.

Black Ice

An intricately written thriller with plenty of comic and farcical elements, Black Ice explored what happens when a wife gets to know the woman who her husband is having an affair with while hiding her own identity in the process. With a few lavish set pieces, some great costume design and a soundtrack that works well to elevate the many moments of tension, this is a contemporary example of what Finnish cinema has to offer the world today.

The Year of the Hare

Released in the late 1970s, The Year of the Hare is eerily prescient in its presentation of the kind of escapism that many people are still looking for in the hustle and bustle of the digital age. In it, a high flying businessman gives up his day job and ventures out into Lapland where he forms a friendship with a wild hare while nursing it back to health. It raises some interesting, enduring questions about the work-life balance and reaffirms the importance that the Finnish landscape plays in the nation’s identity and culture.

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MOVIE REVIEW: The Night Clerk

(Image: thenypost.com)

THE NIGHT CLERK-- 3 STARS

Like it or not, there’s something carnal and entirely compelling about voyeurism. From trainwrecks to Peeping Toms, gazes can be easily fixated by the energy of those moments.  There is an addictive draw that can be interest, mystery, surprise, titillation, or all of the above. The invasive level of wrongness in watching something you are likely not meant to see is measured by what one is doing or getting out of these observations. That’s a bit of the hook of The Night Clerk which allows a little gray hue on that potential wrongness.

Bart Bromley, played by Ready Player One’s lead Tye Sheridan, is a 23-year-old guest reception worker at a mid-range suburban hotel. When we meet him, Bart is sitting in front of a collection of large computer monitors observing recorded security footage from his place of work. However, the views are not all hallways and lobbies. Certain camera angles have him peering into guest rooms unbeknownst to whomever is on camera. They appear rigged through mirrors and device outlets. Here is where what the person is doing or getting out of this voyeurism comes into play. 

LESSON #1: OBSERVING HUMAN BEHAVIOR-- As Bart is watching these people, he is repeating their words and captured conversations. He is practicing cadence and imitating voices, inflections, and ticks of body language.  It doesn’t matter the gender. Bart is trying all the behaviors out. When he steps into public, we see him trying these lines and moves out. What he isn’t doing is getting himself off. Why? To echo Bart’s own go-to deflection, “that’s a very complicated question and it could take a long time to answer”

LESSON #2: THE FUNCTIONING TRAITS OF ASPERGER SYNDROME-- You see, Bart has Asperger syndrome. Many individuals with this developmental disorder can maintain jobs, drive cars, and plenty more. Bart and his monitor setup reside in his protective mother Ethel’s (Oscar winner Helen Hunt) home. Social interactions are a huge hurdle and repetitive behaviors are comfort zones. What Bart is absorbing through his voyeurism is how to tame and improve his communication skills.

Just about at the point where you squint and pause if that seemingly helpful purpose is alright or not for invading privacy, one of Bart’s camera configurations captures a struggle between a well-to-do blond female hotel guest (Jacque Gray) and an unknown male visitor. Bart scrambles to arrive and stop the struggle when a shot rings out and the woman is dead on the floor. Bart is first on the scene and blankly direct when the authorities arrive, led by Detective Espada (John Leguizamo, playing this half-coy/half-burnout) and the victim’s husband Nick Perretti (Jonathan Schaech). No matter his medical label, you’re damn right he’s a suspect and rightfully so.

LESSON #3: THE TRUST YOU GIVE CUSTOMER SERVICE REPRESENTATIVES-- Come to think about this setting, it’s quite amazing how much of your life is in the hands of people like clerks, hosts, greeters, secretaries, and other front-line customer service employees. You see their name tag and welcoming smile and readily hand over your personal or financial information. They sit behind a desk with every key between them, strangers, outside forces, and your indefensible state in their location. The Night Clerk puts just enough creep and suspicion into this predicament to stir plenty of conjecture worth hanging around to figure out. 

The final combustible element and possibly the next person caught in this escalating web of mystery is the vampish moll Andrea Rivera, played by red hot Knives Out and Blade Runner 2049 ingenue Ana de Armas. Descending upon Bart’s transferred new lodging post, her smoky allure (which she makes look easy) and kindly understanding of his peculiarity have the young man smitten. The plot thickens when the man seemingly controlling her is the same man Bart saw during the earlier murder.

The Night Clerk is an intriguing little burner from long-lost filmmaker and Mr. Robot actor Michael Cristofer. This is his first directorial effort in 19 years since 2001’s tawdry erotic Angelina Jolie vehicle Original Sin after the cult hit Body Shots and Jolie’s brilliant HBO breakout Gia before that. Time and tastes have softened this kind of material which would have been fittingly sexualized for late-night pay cable channels or the Paul Verhoeven crowd.  On one hand, The Night Clerk is missing some of that possible pulp and edginess to really widen our eyes and drop our jaws. Instead, it takes on the calculated challenge of weaving a layer of empathy for the main character to override the egregious errors of consent.  In doing so, the movie feigns sophistication when it really doesn’t exude it.

The real score is Tye Sheridan, following up one odd indie performance in The Mountain with another one here. In a place where so many screenwriters and performers alike dial up far too many quirks for the sake of quirks to portray people on the autism spectrum, Cristofer and Sheridan compose one of the best and most consistent performances of this character type in recent memory. Sheridan’s ticks ranging from demure courtesy to blunt honesty are the right level of subtlety and delivered with measured restraint. His character may find himself in a mess, but he is never the mess. This is very impressive work from Sheridan, especially for this class of film.

LOGO DESIGNED BY MEENTS ILLUSTRATED (#861)

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SHORT FILM REVIEW: A Missed Connection

(Image: facebook.com)

Official selection of the 2020 Beloit Film Festival

A MISSED CONNECTION-- 5 STARS

For a moment, think on the last bad day you experienced when the things you juggle in your life continued to collapse. What sort of “wit’s end” did you find yourself arriving at? Jog the memory of how you reacted to that ugly day. Did you lash out harmfully or did a figurative life preserver pull you out of the doldrums or stresses?  Chicago filmmaker Matthew Weinstein’s newest short film A Missed Connection thrusts a character to such a breaking point and exquisitely presents a chance scenario likely dreamt of by many, yet afforded by few. This film plays on February 21st and 22nd as a selection of the Beloit International Film Festival.

Strained writer Jacob, played by Tyler Pistorius, is, tersely put, not doing well. He has a broken briefcase that spills papers and has been soaked by a traffic puddle baptism when he arrives at a coffee shop trying to compose himself on a Snowy Chicago night. In huffed exhales, the best he can do for finding zen in this situation is opening a flask and doctoring his cup of stimulant with an edge-duller pour of brown liquor. His solitary disquiet is palpable.

In due time, a woman of lesser wear and frazzle walks into this coffee shop to order a hot herbal tea but finds her phone missing at the counter. With an “Excuse me, did you drop this?” voice of help, Jacob presents the missing phone and recognition hits. Lo and behold, these two know each other and the affecting body language says it all. They tellingly share greetings with a paused smile, but not a shared hug.  

This is Lauren, played by Kimberly Michelle Vaughn, a former college classmate he hasn’t seen in six years. To her, he’s Jake, the once passionate writer who was always impressed by his work. With busted plans, the two sip their personal libations and catch up. Their conversation reveals more of Jacob’s despondency. His curt and dry cynicism seems impenetrable as he has become an artist who cannot stand his own work and resulting office-bound career. Lauren chooses to remember better days where he brimmed with passion. On this, a particularly low day, her optimism and emotional warmth may melt more than the outside snow.

Talented writer and director Matthew Weinstein (The Gun Equation) has composed a frank and touching narrative of heft and hope. A Missed Connection’s most striking quality is its patience, which can be hard to achieve in this 22-minute space where timely urgency normally rules. Weinstein and his lead couple show no rush. They allow this extended moment to breathe as it would in reality. The filmmaker is astute not to over-sprinkle the romantic serendipity or accelerate into Linklater territory.     

LESSON #1: BEING AT PEACE-- No soul, between the cynical or the sincere, gets transformed in twenty minutes or in one reminiscing conversation. However, the momentum for a heartfelt change can certainly be started in that kind of time. Pistorius and Vaughn make the most of this potential. Every time Tyler’s Jacob drops an inflexible axiom made of phobic granite like “pragmatism overshadows idealism” or a similar admission of personal spite, Vaughn’s Lauren diffuses the tension with empathetic curiosity and concern. That is the core of making peace.  

LESSON #2: THE REGRET OF UNSAID THINGS-- As the encounter escalates, Jacob meets more of this failure. He is unwilling or fearful of equaling Lauren’s level of willingness. In the film, the pair of director of photography Tom Kinstle and editor Andrew K. Smith captures those mounting character realizations in the form of the turns and pauses people execute after they say the wrong thing or don’t say the right thing. It’s brilliant near-voyeurism and embodies the patience that extends the reverberation of A Missed Connection.  

The production tone of the short film carries the same lovely flourishes to savor moments. There is a fascinating three-way audio duel between the slick coffee shop jazz overhead, Mark Bartels’ poignant score underneath, and chosen stretches of silent quality where the crisp foley work of Paskal Pawlicki adds the domestic taps, sips, and adjustments.  Bartels blends all three as the sound mixer to perfectly accentuate the emotional flow of the central talk. When necessary, the pendulum of distance or emptiness is given the music and the foley. When that void is being filled by shared feelings or revealed truths, the energy switches and the score glides in like a soothing salve. The result is simply beautiful.

LESSON #3: THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS “IT DOESN’T MATTER”-- That quoted phrase comprises a poetic verse at the center of A Missed Connection. Calling back to the introduction, even a solitary or sorry state can be what Jacob considers an “unfinished missed opportunity.” A goal can be to never have those. Pine to make those moments and titular connections count. Speaking about the past in a dismissive way only decays the present and future. Bring the pleasure of the past forward and completely. Never get to a place where you are left wondering.

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